“No; my idea was to have these things almost impromptu. Let us plan it all out pretty well beforehand, and then let the performers each time come early, and get posted as to their parts, and the star performer will do the rest.”
“Star performer?”
“Yes; I mean, each time have an entertainer, like the juggler – ”
“A professional?”
“Not necessarily. I know a chap who does wonderful legerdemain, who’d be glad to come to entertain Our Boys.”
“Oh, yes, I see. And I’ll sing.”
“Yes, you can sing, as special character in some tableau, don’t you see? You could be a mermaid or a Lorelei, sitting on a rock.”
“With a lute?”
“Yes, and your hair down, and a gold comb and a mirror, while you comb your shining goldilocks.”
“Nixy! Not my hair down. All the rest, but now I’m engaged, I’ve put away childish things.”
“Pshaw, don’t be a silly! But never mind those details. And, too, if you don’t fancy the mermaid rôle, have a bit of a scene about ‘tenting tonight on the old camp ground,’ and you can come on as a Red Cross nurse, and sing – ”
“Oh, yes, and the boys in khaki can help make up the picture!”
“’Course they can. And another time, we’ll get up a ship scene, I don’t know just how yet, but I’ll plan it – ”
“We could have the mermaid come to the side of the ship.”
“Ah, coming around to the mermaid rôle, are you? Well, those schemes are all right. Now, what shall we choose for the first one?”
“Not soldiers or sailors. Let them see some stunning show first.”
“Oriental?”
“Yes, I guess so. Your idea of the juggler is splendid. He can come on the stage like those Hindoo fakirs, you know, – ”
“Yes, that’s what I meant.”
“You know, there’s not so very much room – ”
“Want to go over to Elise’s, and have it all in her casino?”
“N-no, – not at first, anyway. You see, Phil, I suppose it is nothing but pride and vain glory, – but I thought up this plan, – and I want to have it in my own home.”
“So you shall! I don’t blame you. If Elise wants to, let her get up something herself.”
“Probably she will. But I want mine here.”
“That’s all right, Patty-girl. Why, there’s plenty of room. We needn’t ask so very many guests, – say a dozen or so the first time, and see how it works out.”
“Oh, we could accommodate twenty or twenty-four, I think. You see we’d use these connecting rooms, and this room would hold about thirty chairs.”
“All right. Now, say we plan the scene. I’ve all that big chest full of Oriental costumes, you know, and we don’t want very much in the way of actual scenery. A couple of divans heaped with pillows, and some of those hookah pipes standing round – then, the people in costume, – there’s your setting, – see? Then, in comes your juggler, also in appropriate costume, and he does his tricks, and the people on the stage admire and applaud, and the people in the audience do likewise.”
“Fine! And afterward, we have a little feast, and a little dance, and maybe sing a song or two for a good-night chorus.”
“That’s the ticket! Now, for the list of those who take part, and a few details of that sort, and our preliminary work is done!”
CHAPTER V
A FIRE-EATER
The Monday night party was in full swing. A stage had been erected and the spectacle that was seen as the curtain rose was of “more than Oriental splendour.”
Heavy draperies, potted palms, strange braziers and lanterns, pillowed divans, – all formed a brilliant and interesting picture of an Eastern interior.
Richly garbed ladies sat at ease while slaves waved peacock feather fans above their bejeweled heads. Stalwart men stood about, picturesque in their embroidered tunics and voluminous mantles.
The movement of the scene increased. Slaves entered with baskets of fruits, musicians came and made weird music, and dancing girls appeared and gave graceful exhibitions of their art.
Patty was one of these. In a charming costume of thin, fluttering silks and gauzy veils, she went through the slow swaying steps of a characteristic dance, and enthralled the appreciative audience.
She had indeed achieved her desire to give her guests something different from the average evening entertainment. The young men in khaki and in blue, who sat watching, were breathlessly attentive and applauded loudly and often.
The whole assemblage was gay and merry. The elder Fairfields were excellent hosts, and chatted with the uniformed guests until even the shy ones felt at ease. Roger and Mona Farrington, too, assisted in this work of getting acquainted, and the result was a pleasant, chatty atmosphere and not merely a silent audience.
“Good work!” said Roger, approvingly, to a khakied youth, as Patty executed a difficult pirouette.
“You bet!” was the earnest reply. “I’ve seen some dancing, but never anything to beat that! Is she on the regular stage?”
“Oh, no. She’s the daughter of the house. But she’s a born dancer and has always loved the art.”
“Don’t wonder! She puts it all over anybody I ever saw! And the whole colouring, – the scene, you know, – well, it’ll be something to remember when I’m back in camp. A thing like that stays in your mind, you know, and I’ll shut my eyes and see those furling pink veils as plain, ’most, as I do now. What a beautiful girl she is.”
His tone was almost reverential, and Roger instinctively liked the simple straightforwardness of his comment.
“Yes, and as lovely as she is beautiful. She’s engaged to a Captain, and it’s hard luck that he has to be away from her.”
“It’s all of that! Hullo, look who’s here!”
Among the people on the stage there appeared a strange figure. It was a man of swarthy countenance, garbed in pure white draperies, so full and flowing, that he resembled the pictures of the prophets. He walked slowly to the centre of the stage, and made deep salaams to the characters there assembled, then turned and bowed low to the audience. His snow-white, coiled turban almost swept the floor as he gracefully bent in greeting. Then he rose, and began to chant a strange weird incantation.
An assistant brought a small tripod filled with various paraphernalia, and the juggler began his tricks.
They consisted of the most mystifying legerdemain and magical illusions, for the performer, as Philip had assured Patty, was an expert, though not a professional.
The soldier boys and sailor boys were delighted, and watched closely in their desire to see how the tricks were done.
And this paved the way to their still greater satisfaction, for the accommodating magician acceded to several urgent requests and explained his tricks.
To be sure, it detracted from the mystery, but it added to the interest.
One of his startling deeds was this.
An attendant brought to the magician a small iron dish filled with kerosene oil. With an eager smile, as of delighted anticipation, the juggler, who spoke no word, made motions for his aid to light the oil.
This was done, and the flames proved it to be real oil and really burning.
Then, taking an iron spoon, the magician dipped out a spoonful of the blazing oil and putting it in his mouth swallowed it with great apparent relish and enjoyment.
He nodded his head and smacked his lips in praise of this strange food, and made a gesture of wanting more. Obligingly, the attendant offered him the iron bowl again, and again a spoonful of blazing kerosene was gobbled up by the hungry feeder.
“My stars!” cried one of the audience, “I’ve heard of fire-eaters, but I never expected to see one! Have another dip, old chap!”
Smiling acquiescence, the juggler repeated his startling partaking of the oil, and seemed to like it quite as much as ever.
“Well, I’ll give up!” cried the interested observer, who had spoken before. “Do tell us how you do that! I’d rather know that than eat a square meal myself!”
Dropping for the moment his rôle of pantomimist, the juggler said, “I will tell you, for it is an interesting trick. For years, – ages, even, the Hindus mystified and deceived people by pretending to be fire-eaters. The ignorant on-lookers, of course, believed that the fakirs really ate fire, – hot coals, blazing oil, or burning tow.
“But as a matter of fact, it was all trickery, and deception of the simplest kind. You must know the ignorant people of the Far East are much more gullible and easily deceived than our own alert, up-to-date modern and civilised citizens. And, yet, even among ourselves, it is not easy to understand the fire-eating illusion. This is real kerosene, it is really lighted, you have seen my apparent relish of it. Now can any one explain how it is that I take spoonful after spoonful, yet my mouth is not burnt?”
Nobody could guess, and one after another said so. The young men were losing their shyness and self-consciousness in their interest.
“Spill it, boss,” urged one, “give us the right dope!”
“Yes, I’d be glad to be informed as to the modus operandi,” said another, who was of a different mental type. Indeed, it was all sorts and conditions of brains that were striving to see through this absorbing problem.
Patty, still in her place on the stage, looked keenly into the upturned faces.
“Dear, brave boys!” she thought to herself; “sooner or later, going ‘over there’ to fight for us and our cause! I am glad to give them a little cheer and fun as occasion offers.”
The elder Fairfields felt the same way, and all who were helping Patty in her plan were conscious of a thrill of gratification at the success of it, so far.
“I’ve seen it on the vaudeville stage in Paris,” one different looking youth spoke up. “It was slightly different in effect, but I suppose the same principle obtained.”
“Doubtless,” agreed the juggler, whose name was Mr. Peckham. “Now, I’ll show you. The whole secret is that when I apparently take up a spoonful of oil, in reality, I only dip the spoon in and out again. It comes out blazing, to be sure, but really empty. It is merely the slight film of oil adhering to the spoon that blazes. However, this is quite enough to give the effect of a full spoon of kerosene on fire. Then, as I throw back my head, as if to swallow this flaming fluid, I really blow out the flame and I am careful not even to allow the hot spoon to touch my lips. But the audience, if the trick is quickly done, see what they expect to see. They are imbued with the idea that I am swallowing a spoonful of burning kerosene, and they therefore think I do so. It is over in a second, – I am swallowing, and smacking my lips, and it is taken for granted that I have done the impossible.”
“Huh!” said the youth who had “wanted to know.”
“Yes,” returned Mr. Peckham, laughing, “it’s ‘Huh!’ after the secret is told! No trick is as wonderful after it is explained as it is before.”
“It is to me,” said a more thoughtful man; “it’s interesting to see how a mere optical illusion is believed to be real by thinking and attentive minds.”
“Not only that,” added Mr. Peckham, “but it’s strange to realise how our eyes see, or we think they see, what we expect to see. You anticipated my fire-eating, you looked forward to seeing it, therefore, you thought you did see it.”
“That’s it, sir! After all, it’s a sort of camouflage.”
“Exactly! I give you something that looks like fire-eating, and you think it is fire-eating! Exactly.”
Then he performed many other tricks; tricks with cards or with other paraphernalia; tricks with balls, swords, hats, all the usual branches of “magic” and the enthralled audience were so entertained and spellbound, that the time slipped by unheeded.
“Good gracious!” cried Patty suddenly, from her place on the stage, “isn’t it getting late?”
“It’s half-past eleven,” Roger informed her, from the audience.
“Then we must stop this magicking! I’m sorry, for I could watch it all night, but there’s more programme yet!”
“Cut it out!” cried a youthful chap in sailor blue; “give us more hocus-pocus!”
“Not tonight,” laughed Patty, and leaving her place, the whole tableau began to break up and the gorgeously attired Orientals came down among the audience and mingled as one group.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Patty said, pausing to speak to Mr. Peckham; “it’s so kind of you, and I’ve been so interested!”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” asserted the kind and genial man, “glad to do it for Van Reypen’s sake, for Our Boys’ sake, and, most of all, Miss Fairfield, for your sake!”
Patty rewarded him with her best smile and ran away to look after the rest of her entertainment.
There was to have been music and some other matters, but it was now so late that it was time for the supper.
This was a simple but very satisfying repast and the men in uniform showed their appreciation of Patty’s thoughtful kindness in this, as well as in the mental entertainment.
“I say, Miss Fairfield,” a stalwart young man observed, “if you knew what all this means to us poor chaps, when we’re miles removed from chicken salad and ice cream, you’d feel gratified, I’m sure.”
“I do, Mr. Herron; I am truly glad I can please you but more grateful to you for your appreciation than you can possibly be for my invitation.”
“Well, that’s going some!” and the man laughed. “You see, Miss Fairfield, it’s like a glimpse of another world to a lot of us. It is to me. Why, I come from out West, and I’ve never been in a home like this of yours. Oh, I don’t mean to say we don’t have ’em out West, – lots of our plutes roll in gold and all that. But I didn’t. I’m of the every-day people, and my folks are good and honest, but plain. Not that I’m ashamed of ’em, – Lord, no! But I own up I’m pleased as Punch at this chance to be a guest in a fine house for once!”
“I hope not only for once, Mr. Herron,” said Patty, who liked the frank young fellow. “I’d like to have you come again.”
“You oughtn’t to invite me, – you ought to take a different lot every time, – but, by jingo, if you do ask me, I’m coming! You just bet I am!”
Patty laughed and passed on talking gaily to this one and that, asking questions about things they were interested in and conversant with, and in all, being a charming and sympathetic little hostess.
Entertaining was Patty’s forte, and she loved it. Moreover, she could adapt herself with equal ease to the most aristocratic and high-bred society or to the plainer and more commonplace people.
As for these boys, she loved them, partly because of her patriot spirit, partly from her love of humanity, and largely because now that her own Billee was in the war, all war people were dear to her.
After supper there was still time for a dance or two, and the guests entered into this diversion with zest. Naturally, Patty had many would-be partners, and she divided her dances in an effort to please many.
Helen, too, was a general favourite. The young men liked the jolly girl and pretty Bumble laughed and joked with them, promising to write letters to them and knit comforts for them and to do numberless possible and impossible things when they were back in their camps, or wherever their duty led them.
Chester Wilde was present. He was an urgent suitor of Helen’s, but tonight he tried with all his energies to help Patty in the plan she had undertaken.
At last, when most of the uniformed guests had departed, Wilde noticing the tired expression in Patty’s eyes, led her to a cosy sofa and advised her to rest a little.
“I’ll bring you some hot bouillon,” he said, “and it will do you good. Let the rest of the girls speed the few parting guests, and you sit here and talk to me.”
Patty agreed and soon they were affably chatting. As often, their talk was of Helen.
“Doesn’t she look pretty tonight?” young Wilde asked, his eyes straying to the laughing face across the room.
“Yes, indeed, she always does,” agreed Patty. “She’s a darling thing, too, Mr. Wilde, and you mustn’t be down-hearted because she flouts you sometimes. I know my little old Bumble pretty well and she’s a great little scamp for teasing the people she likes best.”
“It would have been all right, I’m sure,” said the young man, moodily, “if she had stayed in Philadelphia. But here, there are so many men about, – oh, I don’t mean the uniformed men, – but a lot of others who are here at your house now and then, that I can’t help feeling Helen will forget me.”
“Nonsense! I won’t let her. You trust your Aunt Patty! Why my middle name is Tact!”
“I know it, Miss Fairfield, I know all that, and you’re awfully good to me, but, – oh, well, I s’pose I’m jealous.”
“I s’pose you are,” Patty laughed at him. “You wouldn’t be any good if you weren’t! But you know, faint heart and all that. Don’t be faint-hearted, that’s not the thing for a soldier, at all!”
“All right, I’ll cheer up. You’re a good friend, Miss Fairfield – ”
“Oh, call me Patty, I’d rather you would.”
“All right and thank you. First names for us, after this. Now don’t think me silly, but, – won’t you do all you can to – to – ”
“To turn our Helen’s heart in your direction? Indeed I will, Chester, and gladly. But, take my word for it, she likes you better than anybody else, right now.”
“Oh, Patty, do you think so?”
“I know so. Bumble, – Helen, I mean, is a dear, but she isn’t quite sure of her own mind. Oh, don’t you worry, Chester, my friend, all will yet be well.”
“But look at her now. She’s terribly taken with that chap named Herron. See her look at him!”
“The green-eyed monster has you in his grip, for sure! Come on, let’s go and see what they’re talking about.”
Patty rose and Chester followed her to where Helen and Philip Van Reypen were eagerly talking to Mr. Herron.
“Yes,” Herron was saying, “to train a thousand aviators usually means the smashing of more than a thousand machines. Why, every learner breaks up one or two airplanes before he’s a flyer.”
“Really!” said Helen, her eyes big with interest. “And how much do these airplanes cost?”
“Oh, about seven thousand dollars apiece.”
“They do! What a fearful expense for the government!”
“The government does have fearful expenses, Miss Barlow, – or so I’ve heard.”
“But that’s something awful, old man,” put in Van Reypen. “I’m going to be a flyer, and I’ll begin training soon. That’s why I’m so keen on questioning you. Do I go up in the air at once?”
“No, sir. You begin on a machine that stays on terra firma.”
“Then it isn’t a flying machine at all,” observed Patty, as she and Chester joined the others.
“Well, it is, except that it doesn’t fly! But one learns all the motions on it, and the controls and the handling of winds, – and, oh, quite a few things about it. Then later on, one goes up – ”
“What a sensation it must be!” cried Patty; “I’m just crazy to try it. May I go up with you, Phil, as soon as you’ve learned?”
“Not until I have learned. You’ll take no chances with a novice, I can tell you.”
“But I don’t see,” said Helen, “how a machine on the ground is anything like one in the air.”
“It’s difficult to explain,” returned Herron. “But, you see, jets of air are blown through tubes, that simulate the currents of real air that affect the man higher up.”
“Too many for me!” declared Helen, “my little two-cent brain refuses to grasp it!”
“We’ll go down to see Philip perform as soon as he knows enough to show off,” declared Patty. “Won’t that be fun, Helen?”
“Yes; may we, Philip?”
“After I’m ready to show off, yes.”
“Oh, you vainy!” cried Helen. “Never mind, we don’t want to see you when you’re just flying on the floor!”
“I really must fly from here,” laughed Mr. Herron. “Such a gorgeous time, Miss Fairfield. May I come again?”
“Oh, I wish you would! Don’t wait for a special invitation, – come at any time.”
“He will,” Van Reypen said, “I’ll bring him. He and I will be associated, I find, in the Aviation Training Camp, and we’ll often run up together, – mayn’t we, Patty?”
“Yes, indeed; as often as you can manage to!”
CHAPTER VI
A SLEIGHRIDE
“Ready, Bumble?” asked Patty, looking in at her cousin’s room.
“Yes, in a minute.”
“Oh, I know your minutes! They’re half an hour long each! Here, – let me help you.”
Patty straightened Helen’s collar, fastened two hooks, found her gloves, tied her veil, and performed a few more odd services for her, and then held her fur coat for her to slip into.
“It looks like more snow, but Phil telephoned that we’d go anyway,” Patty said: “Mona and Roger will meet us up there, and Mr. Herron will be there too.”
“Perfectly fine! I love a sleighride, though goodness knows we get few enough of them nowadays.”
“You won’t love it, if we get snowed under, or snowbound at the Club.”
“I shan’t mind. We’ll have Mona and Roger for chaperons and we can stay till the storm is over. Philip says the house is lovely.”
“Yes, the Timothy Grass Golf Club is a splendid place, and the winter casino, – The Playbox, they call it, – is most attractive. Oh, we’ll have a good time whatever happens.”
By way of entertaining Helen, Van Reypen had proposed a day at the Country Club, and his invitation was eagerly accepted. There was snow enough on the ground to make good sleighing, and the air was crisp, cold and clear. Warmly garbed for their trip, the two girls ran downstairs to find Philip awaiting them.
“Hooray for two plucky ones!” he cried; “I thought maybe you’d back out on account of the storm.”
“Where’s the storm?” asked Helen. “I don’t see any.”
“You wear rose-coloured glasses. There’s snow in the air, some flying, and more waiting above, ready to come down. But not enough to hurt two such well-befurred Esquimoses! Come along, then.”
The novelty of a real old-fashioned sleighride was a great pleasure and as the fast horses flew along, the girls exclaimed at the new delight of such transportation.
“Are Roger and Mona going in a sleigh, too?” asked Patty.
“Yes, I think so. They’ll come later, as Mona just had a telegram that her father is coming to see her today.”
“But she’ll come to us, won’t she?” Patty asked, quickly. “She’s our chaperon, you know. It wouldn’t do at all for Helen and me to go to the Club without her.”
“Oh, yes, she said she’d come, as soon as her father arrives and she gets him comfortably welcomed. She’s very fond of him, you know.”
“Yes, and he’s an awfully nice man. What time will we get back, Phil?”
“’Long about five o’clock or so. We won’t reach the Club before noon. Then we’ll have time for a game of indoor tennis or whatever you like, of that sort. Then luncheon, and in the afternoon there’s time for a game of Bridge if you choose.”
“Probably we won’t do anything but sit around and chatter,” opined Helen, who was not fond of games. “Mr. Herron is coming, isn’t he?”
“Yes, my lady. But you mustn’t flirt with him, or you’ll turn his head completely.”
“She has done that already,” laughed Patty; “Mr. Herron just sits and gazes at my fair cousin, whenever occasion offers.”
“Nor can any one blame him for that. Look at the ice jam in the river! What a winter we’re having, to be sure.”
“A lovely winter, I think,” Helen said, “I adore cold weather, and I don’t mind snow. I like to feel it on my face.”
“All the same,” Patty put in, “I could do with less of it just now.”
The white feathers were flying briskly through the air, and Patty cuddled her face deep into her high fur collar. She was not quite so fond of the elements as Helen, and felt the cold more.
“The snow is falling all around,
It’s falling here and there;
It’s falling through the atmosphere
And also through the air.”
Helen chanted the lines to an accompaniment of dashing the flakes from her veiled face.
“The snow is falling all around,
And wonder fills my cup,
Whether, when it is all snowed down
We won’t be all snowed up!”
Patty sang her parody, in a high, clear voice, and then returned to her depths of collar.
Then Philip took up the game:
“The snow is falling all around,
But you girls needn’t fret;
We’ll soon arrive where we are bound,
And you’ll get warm, – you bet!”
“Lovely, Phil!” murmured Patty, “you do sing like a cherub!”
“Oh, well, I suppose my coloratura is a little off, but every time I open my mouth the snow snows in!”
“Ought to make liquid notes,” said Patty.
“Oh, come now! If you’re going to talk like that!”
“I can only sing of Greenland’s Icy Mountains,” Helen declared, and just then they came in sight of the Club house.
A huge structure it was, in a large park, and surrounded by trees and gardens. In summer it was a beautiful spot, but in winter some thought it even more so. The Golf Links showed great stretches of white and the bare black limbs of the tall trees made a picturesque foreground. The house itself, with glassed-in veranda and storm doors, looked like a haven of refuge.
The girls ran inside, and were greeted by the sound of crackling flames in a great fireplace.
“I do think a Club is the nicest place!” exclaimed Helen, as she sat down on a fireside settle. “And this one has such a cheery, hospitable atmosphere.”
“Yes,” agreed Patty, “but I don’t see many people around. Aren’t there very few, Phil?”
“Rather so. But it’s an uncertain quantity, you know. Some days the place is crowded, and again nearly empty. It’s always so in a Club.”
“Where’s Mona?”
“She’ll come soon. I told you she’d be late. Don’t fuss, Patty.”
“No; I won’t,” and Patty smiled at him.
But she was anxious, for Patty was conservative by nature, and a close observer of the conventions. She was unacquainted at this Club, and if Mona shouldn’t come, she felt a grave uncertainty as to what she could do. She and Helen couldn’t stay the day there without Mona, and the storm was gaining in force.
“I wish you’d telephone,” she said to Van Reypen, “and see if they’ve started.”
“All right, my liege lady, I will. Just wait a minute, till I get this numbness from my digits.”
“Do let him get warm, Patty,” Helen remonstrated; “the poor man is almost frozen, and you send him to telephone about nothing!”
“’Deed it isn’t nothing! If for any reason Mona doesn’t come, we must go right home, Helen.”
“But don’t cross the bridge before you come to it. At least, let me have a look around. I want to see that sun-parlour and that other palmy nook, over there! Oh, I think this the most fascinating place I ever saw!”
“It is charming. And I’m glad to be here, but I want things right.”
“Patty, you’re not unlike Friend Hamlet. You’re always setting the world right.”
“I know, Phil, but you don’t stop to think. You know we two girls can’t stay here without Mona or some married woman as a chaperon. It doesn’t matter what you think; that’s society’s law and must be obeyed.”
Patty’s pink cheeks took on an added flush and her blue eyes grew violet, as they did when she was very much in earnest.
“I know, Patty; I know, dear. Why, I’m as well acquainted with the conventions as you are. Do you suppose I want you to do anything not absolutely correct? But the Farringtons will come directly. They started later than we did, and the increasing depth of snow may make them longer on the road. But they’re sure to come.”
Phil’s air of conviction reassured Patty, and she turned to the great blazing fire again, with a sigh of contentment. There were two or three Club members about, but save for those and the liveried footmen here and there, the place was deserted.
Helen, thoroughly warm, jumped from her seat and went about looking at the various attractive rooms.
“A wonderful library!” she said, returning from her tour of investigation; “I could be happy there all day, just looking at the picture papers and books.”
“So could I,” said Patty, “if we had somebody with us. Why didn’t we bring Nan? That would have made everything all right!”
“Mona’s sure to come soon,” comforted Helen. “Let up, Patty, you make me tired with your fussing.”
Good-naturedly, Patty “let up” and said no more for the moment.
“Hello, people!” called a cheery voice, and a big figure in uniform came swinging in.
“Mr. Herron!” cried Helen, running forward to greet him. “I’m so glad you came! Did you come in your airship?”
“I wish I could have done so, for the going on the ground is something awful. This is sure one fierce storm!”
Patty went over and lifted a curtain to look out of the window.
“Oh-ee!” she cried out, “it’s coming down thicker’n ever! How can Mona get here? They’ll be snowbound, half way here! Phil, please go and telephone; I must know if they’ve started.”
“Better go quick,” laughed Herron, “before the telephone wires are down. It’s that wet, heavy snow that weighs the wires down fearfully.”
“All right,” and Phil started for the telephone booth.
“They’ll get here,” opined Bumble; “you worry over nothing, Patty Pink.”
“They can’t get here unless they started some time ago,” Herron said; “the roads are getting worse every minute.”
“Roger will manage somehow,” Helen went on. “I know him of old, – and he isn’t to be baulked by a few flakes of snow.”
But Phil returned looking serious.
“They’re not coming,” he announced, briefly, meeting Patty’s startled eyes squarely, but apologetically. “Not on account of the storm, but because Mona’s father arrived, and he isn’t well and Mona won’t leave him. She says to tell you she’s awfully sorry, but it seems her father is really pretty ill, and she can’t get away.”
“Then we must go right home,” said Patty, very decidedly. “You know yourself, Phil, we two girls can’t stay here without Mona – or somebody.”
“Of course, I know it, Patty. Give me a minute to think. I hate to go home and give up our nice day here. Maybe we can fix it. I’ll go and see the housekeeper.”
“Oh, that would be all right, Phil,” and Patty’s lovely face broke into a smile. “If she’s a nice motherly or auntly old lady, she’d do admirably! Go and see about it, do!”
“Let me go,” said Herron, “maybe I can fix it up.”
He was gone a long time, but he came back smiling.
“The housekeeper isn’t here,” he announced, “she’s gone off for a few days’ holiday. Her present substitute is her daughter, a girl younger than you girls are. Also there’s nobody who can play chaperon to a pair of lone, lorn damsels but one elderly specimen, who is by way of being a pastry-cook or something like that. However, – ”
“Oh, all right!” cried Helen; “I don’t care if she’s a pastry-cook or a laundress if she only satisfies Patty’s insane desire for a chaperon! Will she come? Will she stay by us till we go home?”
“She’ll come to luncheon with us,” said Herron, “and after that I think we’d better start for home. The snow is getting deeper, and though it looks as if the sun might break through the clouds any minute, – yet it may not, and the drifts are high, and – ”