CHAPTER IX

THE PLAY

The play went through beautifully. Every girl did her part wonderfully

well, but Patty surpassed them all. Buoyed up by excitement, she played

her part with a dash and sprightliness that surprised even the girls who

had seen her at rehearsal. She was roguish, merry and tragic by turns,

and she sang her solos with a dramatic effect that brought down the

house. She looked unusually pretty, which was partly the effect of her

intense excitement, and though Nan and Mr. Fairfield could not help

admiring and applauding with the rest, they were very anxious and really

alarmed, lest she might not be able to keep up to these emotional heights

until the end of the play.

Without speaking his thoughts to anyone else, Mr. Hepworth, too, was very

much concerned for Patty's welfare. He realised the danger she was in,

and noted every evidence of her artificial strength and merriment. Seeing

Dr. Martin in a seat near the back of the room, he quietly rose and went

and sat beside the old gentleman.

"Doctor," he said, "I can't help fearing that a collapse of some sort

will follow Miss Fairfield's performance."

"I am sure of it," said the Doctor, looking gravely at Mr. Hepworth.

"Then don't you think perhaps it would be wise for you to go around

behind the scenes, presently, and be there in case of emergency."

"I will gladly do so," said Dr. Martin, "if Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield

authorise it."

Mr. Hepworth looked at his programme, and then he looked at Patty. He

knew the play pretty thoroughly, and he knew that she was making one of

the final speeches. He saw too, that she had nearly reached the limit of

her endurance, and he said, "Dr. Martin, I wish you would go on my

authority. The Fairfields are sitting in the front part of the house, and

it would be difficult to speak to them about it without creating a

commotion. And besides, I think there is no time to be lost; this is

almost the end of the play, and in my judgment, Miss Fairfield is pretty

nearly at the end of her self-composure."

Dr. Martin gave the younger man a searching glance, and then said, "You

are right, Mr. Hepworth. It may be advisable that I should be there when

Miss Fairfield comes off the stage. I will go at once. Will you come with

me?"

"Yes," said Mr. Hepworth, and the two men quietly left the room, and

hastened around the building to the side entrance.

As Mr. Hepworth had assisted with the scenery for the play, and had been

present at one or two rehearsals, he knew his way about, and guided Dr.

Martin through the corridors to the room where the girls were gathered,

waiting their cue to go on the stage for the final tableau and chorus.

Lorraine and Hilda looked at each other comprehendingly, as the two men

appeared, but the other girls wondered at this apparent intrusion.

Then as the time came, they all went on the stage, and Dr. Martin and Mr.

Hepworth, watching from the side, saw them form the pretty final tableau.

Patty in a spangled dress and tinsel crown, waving a gilt wand, stood on

a high pedestal. Around her, on lower pedestals, and on the floor, were

the rest of the fairy maidens in their glittering costumes.

The last notes of the chorus rang out, and amidst a burst of applause the

curtain fell. The applause continued so strongly that the curtain was

immediately raised again, and the delighted audience viewed once more the

pretty scene.

Mr. Hepworth was nearer the stage than Dr. Martin, in fact, in his

anxiety, he was almost edging on to it, and while the curtain was up, and

the audience was applauding, and the orchestra was playing, and the

calcium lights were flashing their vari-coloured rays, his intense

watchfulness noticed a slight shudder pass over Patty's form, then she

swayed slightly, and her eyes closed.

In a flash Mr. Hepworth had himself rung the bell that meant the drop of

the curtain, and as the curtain came down, he sprang forward among the

bewildered girls, and reached the tall pedestal just in time to catch

Patty as she tottered and fell.

"She has only fainted," he said, as he carried her off the stage, "please

don't crowd around, she will be all right in a moment."

He carried her to the dressing-room and gently laid her on a couch. Dr.

Martin followed closely, and Mr. Hepworth left Patty in his charge.

"You, Miss Hamilton, go in there," he said to Lorraine, at the door, "and

see if you can help Dr. Martin. I will speak to the Fairfields and see

that the carriage is ready. I don't think the audience knows anything

about it, and there need be no fuss or commotion."

Quick-witted Hilda grasped the situation, and kept the crowd of anxious

girls out of the dressing-room, while Dr. Martin administered

restoratives to Patty.

But it was not so easy to overcome the faintness that had seized upon

her. When at last she did open her eyes, it was only to close them again

in another period of exhaustion.

However, this seemed to encourage Dr. Martin.

"It's better than I feared," he said. "She isn't delirious. There is no

threat of brain fever. She will soon revive now, and we can safely take

her home."

And so when the Doctor declared that she might now be moved, Mr.

Fairfield supported her on one side, and Kenneth on the other as they

took her to the carriage.

"Get in, Mrs. Fairfield," said Kenneth, after Patty was safely seated by

her father, "and you too, Dr. Martin. I'll jump up on the box with the

driver. Perhaps I can help you at the house."

So away they went, without a word or a thought for poor Mr. Hepworth, to

whose watchfulness was really due the fact of Dr. Martin's opportune

assistance. And too, if Mr. Hepworth had not seen the first signs of

Patty's loss of consciousness, her fall from the high pedestal might have

proved a serious accident.

Although Dr. Martin told the family afterward of Mr. Hepworth's kind

thoughtfulness, it went unnoted at the time. But of this, Mr. Hepworth

himself was rather glad than otherwise. His affection for Patty was such

that he did not wish the girl to feel that she owed him gratitude, and he

preferred to have no claim of the sort upon her.

When the party reached the Fairfield house, Patty had revived enough to

talk rationally, but she was very weak, and seemed to have lost all

enthusiasm and even interest in the occasion.

"It's all over, isn't it?" she asked of her father in a helpless,

pathetic little voice.

"Yes, Puss," said Mr. Fairfield, cheerily, "it's all over, and it was a

perfect success. Now don't bother your head about it any more, but just

get rested, and get a good sleep, and then we'll talk it over."

Patty was quite willing not to discuss the subject, and with Nan's

assistance she was soon in bed and sound asleep.

Dr. Martin stood watching her. "I don't know," he said to Nan, "whether

this sleep will last or not. If it does all will be well, but she may

wake up soon, and become nervous and hysterical. In that case give her

these drops, which will have a speedy effect. I will be around again

early to-morrow morning."

But the doctor's fears were not realised. Patty slept deeply all through

the night, and had not waked when the doctor came in the morning.

"Don't waken her," he said, as he looked at the sleeping girl. "She's all

right. There's no fear of nervous prostration now. The stress is over,

and her good constitution and healthy nature are reasserting themselves

and will conquer. She isn't of a nervous temperament, and she is simply

exhausted from overwork. Don't waken her, let her sleep it out."

And so Patty slept until afternoon, and then awoke, feeling more like her

old self than she had for many days.

"Nan," she called, and Nan came flying in from the next room.

"I'm awful hungry," said Patty, "and I am pretty tired, but the play is

over, isn't it, Nan? I can't seem to remember about last night."

"Yes, it's over, Patsy, and everything is all right, and you haven't a

thing to do but get rested. Will you have your breakfast now, or your

luncheon?--because you've really skipped both."

"Then I'll have them both," said Patty with decision. "I'm hungry enough

to eat a house."

Later, Patty insisted on dressing and going downstairs for dinner,

declaring she felt perfectly well, but the exertion tired her more than

she cared to admit, and when Dr. Martin came in the evening, she

questioned him directly.

"I'm not really ill, am I, Dr. Martin? I'll be all right in a day or two,

won't I? It's so silly to get tired just walking downstairs."

"Don't be alarmed," said the old doctor, "you will be all right in a day

or two. By day after to-morrow you can walk downstairs, or run down, if

you like, without feeling tired at all."

"Then that's all right," said Patty. "I suppose I did do too much with my

school work, and the play, and everything, but I couldn't seem to help

it, and if I get over it in a week I'll be satisfied. In fact, I shan't

mind a bit, lounging around and resting for a few days."

"That's just the thing for you to do," agreed Dr. Martin, "and I'll give

you another prescription. After a week or two of rest, you need

recreation. You must get out of the city, and go somewhere in the

country. Not seashore or the mountains just yet, but away into the

country, where you'll have plenty of fresh air and nothing to do. You

mustn't look at a book of any sort or description for a month or two at

least. Will you promise me that?"

"With great pleasure," said Patty, gaily, "I don't think I shall care to

see a book all summer long; not a schoolbook anyway. I suppose I may read

storybooks."

"Not at present," said the doctor. "Let alone books of all sorts for a

couple of months, and after that I'll see about it. What you want is

plenty of fresh air and outdoor exercise. Then you'll get back the roses

in your cheeks, and add a few pounds of flesh to your attenuated frame."

"Your prescription sounds attractive," said Patty, "but where shall I

go?"

"We'll arrange all that," said Mr. Fairfield. "I think myself that all

you need is recreation and rest, with a fair proportion of each."

"So do I," said Patty; "I don't want to go to an old farmhouse, where

there isn't a thing to do but walk in the orchard; I want to go where

I'll have some fun."

"Go ahead," said the doctor, "fun won't hurt you any as long as it's

outdoor sports or merry society. But don't get up any plays, or any such

foolishness, where fun is only a mistaken name for hard work."

Patty promised this, and Dr. Martin went away without any doubts as to

the speedy and entire recovery of his patient.

Mr. Fairfield and Nan quite agreed with the doctor's opinion that Patty

ought to go away for a rest and a pleasant vacation. The next thing was

to decide where she should go. It was out of the question, of course, to

consider any strange place for her to go alone, and as Mr. Fairfield

could not begin his vacation until July, and Nan was not willing to leave

him, there seemed to be no one to accompany Patty.

The only places, therefore, that Mr. Fairfield could think of, were for

her to go to Vernondale and visit the Elliotts, or down to the

Hurly-Burly where the Barlows had already gone for their summer season.

But neither of these plans suited Patty at all, for she said that

Vernondale would be no rest and not much fun. She was fond of her Elliott

cousins, but she felt sure that they would treat her as a semi-invalid

and coddle her until she went frantic.

The Hurly-Burly, she said, would be just the opposite. They would have no

consideration down there for the fact that she wanted a rest, but would

make her jog about hither and thither, taking long tramps and going on

tiresome picnics whether she wanted to or not.

So neither of these plans seemed just the thing, and Nan's proposal that

Patty go to Philadelphia and spend June with Mrs. Allen wasn't quite what

Patty wanted. Indeed, Patty did not know herself exactly what she wanted,

which was pretty good proof that she was not so far from the borders of

Nervous Land as they had believed.

And so when Elise came over one afternoon, and brought with her an

invitation for Patty, that young woman showed no hesitation in announcing

at once that it was exactly what she wanted. The invitation was nothing

more nor less than to go on a long motor-car trip with the Farringtons.

"It will be perfectly splendid," said Elise, "if you'll only go, Patty."

"Go!" said Patty, "I should think I would go! It's perfectly splendid of

you to invite me. Who are going?"

"Just father and mother, and Roger and myself," said Elise, "and you will

make five. Roger can run the car, or father can, either, for that matter,

so we won't take a man, and father has had a new top put on his big

touring-car and we can pile any amount of luggage up on it, so you can

take all the frocks you want to. We'll stop at places here and there, you

know, to visit, and of course, we'll always stop for meals and to stay

over night."

"But perhaps they wouldn't want me," said Patty, "where you go to visit."

"Nonsense, of course they will. Why, I wrote to Bertha Warner that I

wanted to bring you, and she said she'd love to have you come."

"How could she say so? she doesn't know me."

"Well, I told her all about you, and she's fully prepared to love you as

I do. Oh, do you suppose your people will let you go?"

"Of course they will. They'll be perfectly delighted to have me go."

Patty was right. When she told her father and Nan about the delightful

invitation, they were almost as pleased as she was herself, and Mr.

Fairfield gave ready permission.

The projected trip entirely fulfilled Dr. Martin's requisites of fresh

air, out-of-door exercise, and a good time, and when he was told of the

plan he also expressed his entire approval.

Patty's Summer Days · 第 9 / 23 章