MYSTERIOUS CALLERS
Big Bill Farnsworth came into the nursery, where Patty was playing with
the baby. It was the nurse's luncheon hour, and Patty always looked
after Fleurette then.
"Take her, Daddy," Patty cried, holding up the soft, fragrant little
bundle of happy humanity, and Farnsworth grasped the child in his strong
careful way, and tossed her up high above his head.
The baby laughter that followed proved Fleurette's delight in this
performance, and she mutely insisted on its repetition.
"Azalea does that," said Patty, in a troubled tone, "she is strong and
very athletic, I know, but I can't bear to see anybody toss baby around
but you."
"No; Azalea oughtn't to do it,--she is strong, but she isn't careful
enough. Don't allow it, Patty."
"I do forbid it, but she comes in here when I don't know it,--or she
picks baby out of her carriage, Winnie says, and tosses her clear up and
catches her again."
"I'll speak to her about it; why, she'll drop the child some day! She
must not do it!"
"I wish you would speak to her," Patty sighed. "Azalea is really a
trial. I don't know what to do with her. Sometimes she is so sweet and
docile that I think I'm teaching her to be a civilised person, and then
she flies off at a tangent and she's as unruly and intractable as she
was at first."
"How long has she been here now?"
"Nearly a month. I've tried and Betty has tried,--and, yes, Azalea has
tried herself,--but we can't seem to--"
"Camouflage her!"
"That's just it! I want her to look like the background she's against
here,--and she doesn't!"
"I should say not! Last night at dinner she threw herself back in her
chair and yawned openly--"
"Openly! It was all of that! I saw her,--across the table through the
flowers. And, Billee,--she's queer--that's what she is,--queer!"
"Have you noticed that, too? Yes, she _is_ queer,--here take this
Little Flower. She's nearly asleep."
"So she is,--give her to me,--there, there, mudder's pressus,--petty
poppity,--yes, she's queer!"
"Who? Fleurette?"
"You know very well I don't mean Fleurette! I mean that Pride of the
West,--that stranger within our gates,--that thorn in the flesh,--that
awful Azalea!"
"Meaning me?" and Azalea herself popped her head in at the nursery door.
"Yes," replied Farnsworth, imperturbably, "meaning you. Come in, Azalea,
I want to speak to you. When have you heard from your father?"
"Let me see--about a week ago, I think."
"Will you show me the letter?"
"Why, how inquisitive you are! What do you want to see it for?"
"I'd like to read it. I suppose it isn't distinctly a private letter."
"N-no, of course not. But, the truth is,--I haven't got it."
"What did you do with it?"
"I--I tore it up."
"Was it unpleasant?"
"No, but as I had answered it,--I didn't need to keep it."
"What was in it? Tell me,--in a general way."
"Oh,--it said--he hoped I was well,--and he--he hoped you were
well,--and--"
"And he hoped Patty was well! and he hoped the baby was well,--yes,--and
after those polite hopes, what else did he say?"
"Why,--why, I don't know,--I guess that was about all."
"Oh, it was! Why didn't he tell you something about himself? What he was
doing,--or going to do?"
"I don't know. Papa isn't very much of a letter writer."
"Well, he used to be! It was his special forte. I've had letters from
him a dozen pages long. I don't believe he's outgrown his bent of letter
writing. Now, listen, to this, Azalea, the next letter you get from him,
I want you to show it to me, see? If there's anything in it you don't
want me to know about, cut that out,--but show me at least the beginning
and the ending,--and a part of a page. You hear me?"
"Of course I hear you,--not being deaf! And I'll show you the
letter,--if I think of it."
"You'll think of it,--I'll see to that, myself. You ought to get one
soon, oughtn't you?"
"No,--I haven't answered his last one yet."
"Why, you just said you had!"
"Oh, I meant the one before the last--"
"You meant nothing of the sort. And, mind you, Azalea, this is a direct
command,--you _must_ show me his next letter."
"I won't take commands! How dare you? You have no right to order me
about so. I hate you!"
"Don't talk so, Zaly," Patty said, gently. "Cousin Bill isn't asking
anything out of the way. There's no reason you shouldn't show him your
father's letter,--in part, at least,--is there now?"
"N--no,--but I don't want to."
"Of course you don't," put in Bill, "and for a very good reason!"
"What reason?" cried Azalea, her black eyes flashing.
"You know as well as I do."
"I don't!"
"Very well, say no more about it now,--only remember I want to see the
next one."
Azalea flounced out of the room, very angry, and muttering beneath her
breath.
"What in the world, Little Billee, are you getting at?" asked Patty, as
she cuddled Fleurette into her shoulder.
"There's something queer, Patty, something very queer about that girl!"
"You've oft repeated that assertion, Sweet William,--just what do you
mean by it?"
"What I say, Faire Ladye! There's something rotten in the state of
Denmark,--there is that!"
"But why are you so anxious to see her father's letters?"
"They're part of the queer element. Have you ever seen her get one,--or
read one from him?"
"Not that I definitely remember; but she may easily have read them right
before me, and I not have known it."
"But wouldn't she be likely to read a word or two,--or deliver some
polite message he might send?"
"I should think so,--but she never has."
"That's the queerness."
"Oh, do tell me, dear, what you're getting at! Do you think Mr. Thorpe
is dead,--and she never told us? There'd be no sense in that!"
"Not a bit! It's something queerer than that."
"Do you think he's married again?"
"Queerer than that."
"Will-yum Farnsworth, if you don't tell your own wife what you mean,
I'll never speak to you again! There!"
"At risk of that awful condition of things, I won't tell you just yet.
But you do this. Here's something you can do toward solving the
mystery,--and I can't. Find out for sure,--don't ask her, but see for
yourself,--if Azalea gets a letter from Horner's Corners addressed in a
big, bold Spencerian hand. I remember Uncle Thorpe's handwriting
perfectly, and it's unmistakable. I've not seen it since Azalea came."
"Goodness, do you call it a mystery?"
"I do, indeed. You'll find out it's a pretty startling mystery, or I
miss my guess."
"Well, Azalea is a handful, I admit, but I think she's good at heart,
and she is devoted to my booful little Fleury-floppet! My own
Dolly-winkums,--who looks prezackly like her Daddy-winkums!"
"Patty, you'll go to the lunatic asylum some day, if you let yourself
talk such gibberish!"
"Listen to him, Baby mine, my flubsy-dubsy,--my pinky-poppy-petal,
listen to your dreadful Dads! Isn't he the--"
"The what?" and Farnsworth strode across the room and took his wife and
child both into his big bear-like embrace.
"The dearest, sweetest man in the world!" Patty said, laughing but
nearly smothered in his arms.
"All right, you're excused," and he let them go.
Nurse Winnie came then and took Fleurette, and the two elder Farnsworths
went downstairs together.
They heard voices on the wistaria porch, and soon saw that Azalea was
entertaining two guests.
They were strangers, and not very attractive looking people.
"Shall we step out there?" Farnsworth asked.
"No," decreed Patty; "let her alone. It's probably those people she
picked up on the train coming here. She has spoken of them to me. Don't
let's go out, or we may have to invite them to stay to dinner,--and
judging from this long distance view of them, I don't care specially to
do so."
"No. I don't either; the man looks like a drummer and the woman like
a--"
"A chorus girl!" said Patty, after one more peep at the stranger.
Leaving Azalea to entertain her friends without interruption they went
out on a porch on the other side of the house. And soon Raymond Gale
sauntered over from his home next door and joined them there.
"Some strong-arm, your Azalea guest," he said, in the course of
conversation.
"Yes," agreed Patty, a little shortly.
"She was over in our gym, this afternoon, and she put up as fine an
exhibition of stunts as I've seen in a long time."
"What sort of stunts?" asked Bill.
"All sorts, from lariat or lasso work to handsprings and ground and
lofty tumbling. That girl's been trained, I tell you!"
"Trained in a school?"
"No: her work is more as if self-taught,--or coached by a cowboy. She
hails from Arizona, doesn't she?"
"Yes. Here she is now; I hear you're an athlete, Zaly."
"Only so-so," the girl replied, half-absently.
"Have your friends gone?" asked Patty.
"Yes."
"I recognised them," began young Gale: "they were--"
Azalea turned to him quickly. "Don't you say who they were!" she cried,
emphatically. "I don't want you to! Don't you dare mention their names!
It's a secret!"
"Oh, all right, I won't. Don't take my head off!" Ray Gale laughed
carelessly, and pretended to be afraid of the excited girl.
"Why, why, Zaly," said Patty, "who can your friends be that you won't
tell their names? I'm surprised!"
"Their names are--are Mr. and Mrs. Brown," said Azalea, with a defiant
look at Raymond, who merely opened his eyes wide and said nothing.
It was quite evident that Brown was _not_ the name of the people who had
called on Azalea, and Patty could not imagine what reason there could be
for the girl to tell such a falsehood.
"Is that the right name, Gale?" asked Bill, briefly.
But Raymond Gale only shook his head.
"Miss Thorpe says so," he replied, "surely she ought to know."
The subject was dropped and not resumed until after Gale had gone home.
Then Farnsworth asked Azalea who her friends were who had called.
"I told you they were Mr. and Mrs. Brown," she said, glibly. "I met them
on the train coming from the West, and we got quite well acquainted."
"But their name is _not_ Brown," Bill said, quietly, "tell me what it
is,--or, tell me _why_ you don't want to divulge it."
"It _is_ Brown," persisted Azalea, but the way she spoke and the way her
eyes fell before Farnsworth's steady gaze, belied her words.
"I'm sorry, but I can't believe you," he said.
"I can't help that," she returned, pertly, and ran away to her own room.
"What's she up to now?" said Patty.
"Part of the queerness," Bill vouchsafed, and said no more about it.
* * * * *
The next day, Azalea went to her room directly after breakfast, and,
locking the door, remained there all the morning.
At luncheon she was quiet, and absent-minded, and as soon as the meal
was over she went back to her room.
It was nearly five o'clock, when Patty, puzzled at such actions, tapped
at Azalea's door.
"What's the matter, dear?" she called, through the closed door, as there
was no response to her knock.
"Nothing; let me alone!" came Azalea's impatient voice.
"Are you ill? Don't you feel well?"
"Let me alone. I'm all right." The tone was ungracious, and there was no
mistaking the import of her speech, so Patty went away.
At dinner time Azalea appeared. She wore the same frock she had worn all
day, and Patty looked at her in amazement. Apparently she had been
working hard at something. Her hair was rumpled, her collar awry, and
her whole appearance untidy and unpresentable.
"Have you been busy?" Patty said; "couldn't you get time to dress?"
"Forgot it!" muttered Azalea. "Sorry. Shall I go back and dress?"
Patty hesitated. It would, of course, delay dinner, which was already
announced,--and, too, in Azalea's present state of pre-occupation, she
might fall to work again, and not come to dinner at all.
So Patty said, "No, come as you are," and she gave Azalea's hair a
touch, and pulled her collar straight.
Farnsworth watched the "queer" girl all through dinner. Azalea had
improved somewhat in manners, though her notions of table etiquette
still left much to be desired.
To-night she was unlike herself. She answered in monosyllables when
spoken to, and paid no attention to the conversation of the others.
"I expect my friend Elise Farrington to-morrow," said Patty; "I'm sure
you'll like her, Azalea."
"Will she like me?" said the girl, indifferently.
"If she doesn't, it will be your own fault," and Patty took advantage of
the opportunity for a word of warning. "Elise is a person of strong
likes and dislikes. If you try to be real nice and courteous she will
certainly like you, and if you're rude and blunt, I don't believe she
will. Do you care, Azalea, whether she does or not?"
"No," said Azalea, calmly, and Patty gave a sigh of despair. What was
the use of trying to help a girl who acted like that?
Farnsworth, too, shook his head, and glanced at Patty with a
sympathetic smile, and then they talked together to the entire exclusion
of Azalea, who was so wrapped in her own thoughts that she didn't even
notice them.
Not waiting for coffee, when the others went to the library, Azalea,
with the briefest "good-night," went up to her room, and again locked
her door.
"What does ail her?" exclaimed Patty, as she and her husband sipped
their coffee.
"I don't know,--but I'm going to find out. Any letter from her father
to-day?"
"No; I looked over her mail. Oh, it does seem awful, to look
inquisitively at another's letters!"
"It's necessary, dear, in this case. There's a big mystery about Azalea
Thorpe, and we must solve it, or there'll be trouble!"
"I wish you'd tell me all about it."
"I will, soon. Trust me, darling, I'd rather not say what I suspect,
until I've a little more reason for my suspicion. It's _too_ incredible!
And yet,--it _must_ be so!"
"All right, my True Love. I can wait. Now, listen, and I'll tell you of
the marvellous achievement of your daughter to-day!"
And Farnsworth listened with all his heart to the amazing tale of
Fleurette's intelligent observation of a red balloon.
The next day Elise came.
"Here I am!" she cried, as she stepped from the motor, and flew into
Patty's embrace. "Where's your eccentric cousin I've heard about? But
first, where's my godchild? I've brought her the loveliest presents! Let
me at her!"
"All right," said Patty, laughing at her impatience, "come right along
to the nursery before you take your hat off."
The two went to the nursery, and Patty softly opened the door. But the
room was empty.
"That's funny," Patty said, "Winnie always has baby here at this hour.
She takes her morning nap about now. Where can they be?"
The bassinette was disordered, as if the child had been taken from it,
and Patty looked at it in amazement. She ran around to several adjoining
rooms, and returned, with a frightened face.
"Elise, there's no sign of Baby or Winnie anywhere! What does it mean?"
"Goodness! _I_ don't know! Did the nurse go down to see her beau,--and
take the baby with her?"
Just then Nurse Winnie appeared: "Here's the food, Mrs. Farnsworth,"
she said, showing a bowl of steaming white liquid. "It's all ready."
"What food?" said Patty, mystified.
"Miss Thorpe came here fifteen minutes ago, and said you ordered me to a
make a bowl of prepared food,--that Fleurette was not getting enough
nourishment."
"Why, I did nothing of the sort! Where is Miss Thorpe? And where is the
baby?"
"I don't know," and Winnie looked as if she thought Patty was crazy.
"Don't you know, ma'am?"