Patty's Social Season. Wells Carolyn

Mona on the subject of her new friend. The others, too, did not seem to welcome Mr. Lansing, and though one or two moved slightly, they did not make room for the newcomers.

      Patty was uncertain what she ought to do. She remembered what Mr. Galbraith had said, and she felt that to send Mona and Mr. Lansing away would be to throw them more exclusively in each other’s society; and she thought that Mr. Galbraith meant for her to keep Mona under her own eye as much as possible. But to call the pair upon the stairs and make room for them would annoy, she felt sure, the rest of the group.

      She looked at Roger and at Philip Van Reypen, and both of them gave her an eloquent glance of appeal not to add to their party. Then she chanced to glance at Mr. Hepworth and found him smiling at her. She thought she knew what he meant, and immediately she said, “Come up here by me, Mona; and you come too, Mr. Lansing. We can make room easily if we move about a little.”

      There was considerable moving about, and finally Patty found herself at the top of the group with Mona and Mr. Lansing. Christine and Mr. Hepworth were directly below them, and then Elise and Kenneth.

      Mr. Van Reypen and Roger Farrington declared their intention of making a raid on the dining-room and kidnapping waiters with trays of supplies. On their return the supper plates were passed up to those on the stairs, and Van Reypen and Roger calmly walked away.

      Patty knew perfectly well what they meant. They intended her to understand that if she and Mona persisted in cultivating the acquaintance of the man they considered objectionable, they did not care to be of the party.

      “Which is perfectly ridiculous!” said Patty to herself, as she realised the state of things. “Those boys needn’t think they can dictate to me at my own party!”

      Whereupon, perverse Patty began to make herself extremely and especially agreeable to Mr. Lansing, and Mona was greatly delighted at the turn things had taken.

      Christine and Mr. Hepworth joined in the conversation, and perhaps because of what Patty had said earlier in the evening, Mr. Lansing avoided to a great extent the use of slang expressions, and made himself really interesting and entertaining.

      “What a fascinating man he is,” said Christine later, to Patty, when Mona and her new friend had walked away to the “extra” supper dance.

      “Do you think so?” said Patty, looking at Christine in astonishment. “He was rather nicer than I thought him at first, but, Christine, I never dreamed you would approve of him! But you never can tell when a quiet little mouse like you is going to break loose. Why did you like him, Christine?”

      “I don’t know exactly; only he seemed so breezy and unusual.”

      “Yes, he’s that,” and Patty wagged her head, knowingly; “but I don’t like him very much, Christine, and you mustn’t, either. Now run away and play.”

      Patty’s last direction was because she saw a young man coming to ask Christine for this dance; while two others were rapidly coming toward herself.

      The rest of the evening was danced gaily away, but neither Roger nor Philip Van Reypen came near Patty. To be sure, she had plenty of partners, but she felt a little offended at her two friends’ attitude, for she knew she hadn’t really deserved it.

      But when the dance was over, Patty’s good-nights to Roger and Philip were quite as gentle and cordial as those she said to any one else. She smiled her best smiles at them, and though not as responsive as usual, they made polite adieux and departed with no further reference to the troublesome matter.

      CHAPTER III

      HAPPY SATURDAYS

      As was not to be wondered at, Patty slept late the next morning. And when she awakened, she lay, cozily tucked in her coverlets, thinking over the occurrences of the night before.

      Presently Jane came in with a dainty tray of chocolate and rolls, and then, with some big, fluffy pillows behind her, Patty sat up in bed, and thoughtfully nibbled away at a crust.

      Then Nan came in, in her pretty morning gown, and, drawing up a little rocker, sat down by Patty’s bedside.

      “Are you in mood for a gossip, Patty?” she asked, and Patty replied, “Yes, indeedy! I want to talk over the whole thing. In the first place, Nan, it was a howling, screaming success, wasn’t it?”

      “Why, yes, of course; how could it be otherwise? with the nicest people and the nicest flowers and the nicest girl in New York City!”

      “In the whole United States, you mean,” said Patty, complacently, as she took a spoonful of chocolate. “Yes, the party in all its parts was all right. There wasn’t a flaw. But, oh, Nan, I got into a scrap with the boys.”

      “What boys? and what is a scrap? Patty, now that you’re out, you mustn’t use those slang words you’re so fond of.”

      “Nan,” and Patty shook her spoon solemnly at her stepmother, “I’ve come to realise that there is slang and slang. Now, the few little innocent bits I use, don’t count at all, because I just say them for fun and to help make my meaning clear. But that man last night,—that Lansing man,—why, Nan, his slang is altogether a different matter.”

      “Well, Patty, he, himself, seems to be an altogether different matter from the people we know.”

      “Yes, doesn’t he? And yet, Nan, he isn’t so bad. Well, anyway, let me tell you what Mr. Galbraith says.”

      “That’s just it!” declared Nan, after Patty had finished her story. “That man is a fortune-hunter, and he means to try to marry Mona for the sake of her father’s money!”

      “Oh, my!” exclaimed Patty, laughing; “isn’t it grand to be grown up! I see I’m mixed up in a matrimonial tangle already!”

      “Nothing of the sort, you foolish child! There won’t be any matrimonial tangle. Mr. Galbraith is quite right; this man must be discouraged, and Mona must be made to see him in his true light.”

      “But, Nan, he isn’t so awful. You know, sometimes he was quite fascinating.”

      “Yes, you think that, because he has big dark eyes and rolled them at you.”

      “Goodness! it sounds like a game of bowls. No, I don’t mean that; but—well, I’ll tell you what I do mean. He said we weren’t fair to him, to judge him adversely, not knowing anything about him. And I think so, too, Nan; it doesn’t seem fair or right to say a man is a bounder,—that’s what Roger called him,—when we don’t know anything about him, really.”

      “Patty, you’re a goose! Don’t you suppose we’ll find out about him? Of course, we can’t, but your father and Mr. Galbraith,—yes, and Roger Farrington, will soon find out his standing.”

      “Well,” said Patty, with a relieved sigh, “then I needn’t bother about him any more. But, Nan, I have troubles of my own. Philip and Roger are both mad at me!”

      “Goodness! Patty, how awful! Do you suppose they’ll stay mad all day?”

      “Oh, it isn’t just a momentary tiff; they are up and down angry! Why, neither of them danced with me or even spoke to me after supper last night!”

      “Well, it was probably your own fault.”

      “My own fault, indeed! It was all because of that horrid Lansing man. Well, if they want to stay mad, they may! I shan’t make any advances.”

      “Don’t worry, my child. Into each life some little squabbles must fall,—and though you’re fairly good-natured, as a rule, you can’t expect it always to be smooth sailing.”

      Seeing she could get no sympathy from her stepmother, Patty dropped the subject of her quarrels, and remarked, with a yawn, “Well, I suppose I may as well get up, and begin on those flower notes. What shall I say, Nan, something like this? ‘Miss Patricia Fairfield thanks you for your kind donation of expensive blossoms, but as it’s such a bother to write the notes of acknowledgment, she really wishes you hadn’t sent them.’”

      “What base ingratitude!