PAGEANT PLANS
As Patty was preparing for bed that night, Mona came tapping at her
door.
"Come in," said Patty. "Oh, it's you, Mona,--well, I AM glad to see
you! In the turmoil of this 'house party' of yours, we almost never see
each other alone, do we?"
"No; and I'm sorry. But you're enjoying it, aren't you, Patty?"
"Yes, indeed! I love it! People running in and out all the time, and a
lot of people all over the house,--oh, yes, it's gay."
"Patty, I'm bothered about this Pageant business. How does it happen
that Daisy has taken your part?"
"It wasn't my part. It had never been assigned, until Guy persuaded
Daisy to take it."
"Persuaded fiddlesticks! She MADE him give it to her."
"No, she didn't. She was determined NOT to have that part, but he
coaxed her into it. She told me so herself."
"Pooh! You don't know Daisy as I do. You're so sweet and generous
yourself you think everybody else is. I wish I hadn't asked her here. I
thought she had outgrown her school-girl tricks. She was always like
that."
"Like what?"
"Nothing; never mind. What does Bill say about it?"
"Nothing. I don't believe he knows who's to be Spirit of the Sea. And
probably he doesn't care."
"Probably he DOES! Don't be a goose, Patty Fairfield! You know that
great big angel Bill adores the ground you walk on."
"Is he as fond of Real Estate as all that? Well, I can't give it to
him, for it's your ground that I'm on most of the time, and I suppose
the beach is owned by the Realty Company or something."
"FUNNY girl! Patty, you make me laugh boisterously with that wit of
yours! Well, Miss Sweetness, will you help me with my costume? Guy has
'persuaded' ME to be Cleopatra on the Nile Float."
"Oh, Mona, how lovely! You'll be a PERFECT Cleopatra. Indeed I will
help you! What are you going to wear?"
"Whatever's the right thing. Of course it must be magnificent in
effect. I'm going to send for a dressmaker and two helpers to-morrow
morning, and put them to work on it. They can fit linings while I send
to New York for the material. Lizette can go and select it. What do you
think of gold-brocaded white satin?"
"Appropriate enough for Cleopatra, but ridiculous for a pantomime
costume! Get white paper muslin or sateen, and trace a design on it
with gold paint."
"No, sir-ee! I don't get a chance to shine as a dramatic star often,
and I'm going to have the finest costume I can think up!"
"Oh, Mona, you have no sense of proportion," laughed Patty; "go ahead
then, and get your white satin, if it will make you happy."
Apparently it would, and the two girls discussed the Cleopatra costume
in all its details, until the little clock on the dressing-table held
its two hands straight up in shocked surprise.
After Mona left her, Patty gave herself a scolding. It was a habit of
hers, when bothered, to sit down in front of a mirror and "have it out
with herself" as she expressed it.
"Patty Fairfield," she said to the disturbed looking reflection that
confronted her, "you're a silly, childish old thing to feel
disappointed because you weren't chosen to be Spirit of the Sea! And
you're a mean-spirited, ill-tempered GOOSE to feel as you do, because
Daisy Dow has that part. She'll be awfully pretty in it, and Guy Martin
had a perfect right to choose her, and she had a perfect right to
change her mind and say she'd take it, even if she HAD told you she
didn't want it! Now, Miss, what have you to say for yourself? Nothing?
I thought so. You're vain and conceited and silly, if you think that
you'd be a better Spirit of the Sea than Daisy, and you show a very
small and disagreeable nature when you take it so to heart. Now, WILL
you brace up and forget it?"
And so practical and just was Patty's true nature that she smiled at
herself, and agreed to her own remarks. Then dismissing the whole
subject from her mind, she went to bed and to sleep.
Next day she went in search of Laurence Cromer, and found that young
man sketching in a corner of one of the picturesque terraces of "Red
Chimneys."
"Why these shyness?" asked Patty, as he quickly closed his sketch-book
at her approach. "Why these modest coquetry? Art afraid of me? Gentle
little me? Who wouldn't hurt a 'squito? Or am it that I be unworthy to
look upon a masterpiece created by one of our risingest young artists?"
"I don't want you to see this sketch till it's finished," said Cromer,
honestly. "It's going to be an awfully pretty bit, but unfinished, it
looks like the dickens. Let me sketch you, Miss Fairfield, may I?"
"Yes, indeed; but can you talk at the same time? I want your advice."
"Oh, yes; the more I talk the better I work. Turn a little more to the
right, please. Oh, that's perfect! Rest your fingertips on the
balustrade, so--now, don't move!"
"Huh," remarked Patty, as Cromer began to sketch in swiftly, "how long
do I have to stand this way? It isn't such an awful lot of fun."
"Oh, DON'T move! This is only a beginning, but I'll make a wonderful
picture from it. That shining white linen frock is fine against the
gleaming, sunlit marble of the terrace."
"All right, I'll stand," said Patty, goodnaturedly. "Now you can return
the favour by helping me out of a quandary. Won't you advise me what
part to take in the Pageant? As a matter of fact, I think all the best
parts are assigned, and I don't want to be 'one of the populace,' or
just 'a voice heard outside'! I want a picturesque part."
"I should say you did! Or, rather the picturesque parts all want you.
Now, _I_'M designing the Niagara Float. It's unfinished, as yet,--the
scheme, I mean,--but I know I want a figure for it, a sort of a,--well,
a Maid of the Mist, don't you know. A spirituelle girl, draped all in
grey misty tulle, and dull silver wings,--long, curving ones, and a
star in her hair."
"Lovely!" cried Patty. "And do you think I could be it?"
"Well, I had a brown-haired girl in mind. Your colouring is more like
'Dawn' or 'Spring' or 'Sunshine.'"
"Oh, I HATE my tow-head!" exclaimed Patty. "I wish I was a nut-brown
maid."
"Don't be foolish," said Cromer, in a matter-of-fact way. "You are the
perfection of your own type. I never saw such true Romney colouring.
Pardon me, Miss Fairfield, I'm really speaking of you quite
impersonally. Don't be offended, will you?"
"No, indeed," said Patty. "I quite understand, Mr. Cromer. But what
part AM I adapted for in the Pageant?"
"If you will, I'd like you to be Maid of the Mist. As I say, I had
thought of a darker type, but with a floating veil of misty grey, and
grey, diaphanous draperies, you would be very effective. Turn the least
bit this way, please."
Patty obeyed directions, while she thought over his idea. "Maid of the
Mist" sounded pretty, and the artist's float was sure to be a beautiful
one.
"Yes, I'll take that part, if you want me to," she said, and Mr. Cromer
said he would design her costume that afternoon.
"Hello, Apple Blossom!" called a big, round voice, and Bill Farnsworth
came strolling along the terrace. Perched on his shoulder was Baby May,
her tiny hands grasping his thick, wavy hair, and her tiny feet
kicking, as she squealed in glee.
"Misser Bill my horsie," she announced. "Me go ridy-by."
"IS there something on my shoulder?" asked Bill, seemingly unconscious
of his burden. "I thought a piece of thistledown lighted there, but it
may have blown off."
"There is a bit of thistledown there," said Patty, "but don't brush it
off. It's rather becoming to you."
"Indeed it is," agreed Cromer. "I'd like to sketch you and that mite of
humanity together."
"You're ready to sketch anybody that comes along, seems to me,"
observed Bill. "Isn't this Miss Fairfield's turn?"
"I expect she's about tired of holding her pose," said the artist.
"I'll give her a rest, and make a lightning sketch of you two. Baby's
mother may like to have it."
"Oh, give it to me!" begged Patty. "I'd love to have a picture of Baby
May."
"But there'll be so much more of me in it than Baby May," said Bill,
gravely.
"Never mind," laughed Patty. "I shan't object to your presence there.
Now, I'll run away while you pose, for I MIGHT make you laugh at the
wrong time."
"Don't go," pleaded Bill, but Patty had already gone.
"What a beautiful thing she is," said Cromer, as he worked away at his
sketch-block. He spoke quite as if referring to some inanimate object,
for he looked at Patty only with an artist's eye.
"She is," agreed Bill. "She's all of that, and then some. She'll make a
perfect Spirit of the Sea. I say, Cromer, help me rig up my Neptune
togs, will you?"
"Of course I will, old chap. But Miss Fairfield isn't going to be on
your float. She's agreed to be my Maid of the Mist."
"She HAS! I say, Cromer, that's too bad of you! How did you persuade
her to change her plan?"
"She didn't change. She had no idea of being on your float. She asked
me what I thought she'd better be, and she said all the most desirable
parts were already assigned."
"H'm, quite so! Oh, of course,--certainly! Yes, yes, INDEED!"
"What's the matter with you, Bill? Are you raving? Your speech is a bit
incoherent."
"Incoherent, is it? Lucky for you! If I were coherent, or said what I'm
thinking, you'd be some surprised! You go on making your pencil marks
while I think this thing out. All right, Baby; did Uncle Bill joggle
you too much? There,--now you're comfy again, aren't you? I say,
Laurence, I'll have my picture taken some other day. Excuse me now,
won't you? I have a few small fish to fry. Come, Babykins, let's go
find mummy."
"H'm," said Laurence Cromer to himself, as Bill swung off with mighty
strides toward the house. "Somehow, I fancy he'll regain his lost
Spirit of the Sea, or there'll be something doing!"
Baby May was gently, if somewhat unceremoniously, deposited in her
mother's lap, and Bill said gaily, "Much obliged for this dance.
Reserve me one for to-morrow morning at the same hour. And, I say, Mrs.
Kenerley, could you put me on the trail of Miss Fairfield?"
"She went off in her runabout with Roger Farrington. I think she's
heading for the telegraph office to order much materials and gewgaws
for the Pageant."
"Then, do you know where Daisy Dow is? I MUST flirt with somebody!"
"Try me," said pretty little Mrs. Kenerley, demurely.
"I would, but I'm afraid Baby May would tell her father."
"That's so; she might. Well, Daisy is at the telephone in the library;
I hear her talking."
"Thank you," said Big Bill, abruptly, and started for the library.
"Yes," he heard Daisy saying as he entered the room, "a long, light
green veil, floating backward, held by a wreath of silver stars ...
Certainly ... Oh, yes, I understand ... Good-bye."
She hung up the receiver, and turned to see Bill looking at her with a
peculiar expression on his handsome, honest face.
"What are you going to represent in your light green veil, Daisy?" he
asked.
"The Spirit of the Sea," she replied. "I've arranged for the loveliest
costume,--all green and shimmery, and dripping with seaweed."
"How did you happen to be chosen for that part, Daisy?"
"Guy Martin insisted upon it. He said there was no one else just right
for it."
"How about Patty Fairfield?"
"Oh, she WOULDN'T take it. She told Guy so."
"She did! I wonder WHY she wouldn't take it?"
"I don't know, Bill, I'm sure. It COULDN'T have been because you're
Neptune, could it?"
"It might be," Bill flung out, between closed teeth, and turning, he
strode quickly away.
"Bill," called Daisy, and he returned.
"What is it?" he said, and his face showed a hurt, pained look, rather
than anger.
"Only this: Patty asked Guy as a special favour not to mention this
matter to her. So I daresay you'll feel in honour bound not to speak of
it."
"H'm; I don't know as my honour binds me very strongly in that
direction."
"But it MUST, Bill!" and Daisy looked distinctly troubled. "I oughtn't
to have told you, for Patty trusted me not to tell anybody."
"Patty ought to know better than to trust you at all!" and with this
parting shaft, Bill walked away. On the veranda he met Guy Martin, who
had called for a moment to discuss some Pageant plans with Mona. Guy
was just leaving, and Bill walked by his side, down the path to the
gate.
"Just a moment, Martin, please. As man to man, tell me if Patty
Fairfield refused to take the part of the Spirit of the Sea?"
"Why, yes; she did," said Guy, looking perplexed. "It's a queer
business and very unlike Patty. But she wrote me a note, saying she
didn't want the part, and asking me not to mention the matter to her at
all."
"She did? Thank you. Good-bye." And Bill returned to the house,
apparently thinking deeply.
"Hello, Billy Boy, what's the matter?" called Mona, gaily, as he came
up the veranda steps.
"I'm pining for you," returned Bill. "Do shed the light of your
countenance on me for a few blissful moments. You're the most
unattainable hostess I ever house-partied with!"
"All right, I'll walk down to the lower terrace and back with you. Now,
tell me what's on your mind."
"How sympathetic you are, Mona. Well, I will tell you. I'm all broken
up over this Pageant business. I wanted Patty Fairfield on the float
with me, and she won't take the part, and now Daisy has cabbaged it."
"I know it. But Patty says Guy Martin chose Daisy in preference to her.
And she says it's all right."
"Great jumping Anacondas! She says THAT, does she? And she says it's
all right, does she? Well, it's just about as far from all right as the
North Pole is from the South Pole! Oh--ho! E--hee! Wow, wow! I perceive
a small beam of light breaking in upon this black cat's pocket of a
situation! Mona, will you excuse me while I go to raise large and
elegant ructions among your lady friends?"
"Now, Bill, don't stir up a fuss. I know your wild Western way of
giving people 'a piece of your mind,' but Spring Beach society doesn't
approve of such methods. What's it all about, Bill? Tell me, and let's
settle it quietly."
"Settle it quietly! When an injustice has been done that ought to be
blazoned from East to West!"
"Yes, and make matters most uncomfortable for the victim of that
injustice."
Big Bill calmed down. The anger faded from his face, his hands
unclenched themselves, and he sat down on the terrace balustrade.
"You're right, Mona," he said, in a low, tense voice. "I'm nothing but
an untamed cowboy! I have no refinement, no culture, no judgment. But
I'll do as you say; I'll settle this thing QUIETLY."
As a matter of fact, Bill's quiet, stern face and firm-set jaw
betokened an even more strenuous "settlement" than his blustering mood
had done; but he dropped the whole subject, and began to talk to Mona,
interestedly, about her own part in the Pageant.