Kitabı oku: «Patty's Fortune», sayfa 2
CHAPTER III
A MIDNIGHT MESSAGE
Dinner in the big dining-room was great fun. A large, round table had been prepared for the party, and the smaller, unoccupied tables all about, were also decorated with flowers to give a festive atmosphere.
As there were scores of idle waiters, each of the party could have one, or more, if desired.
Farnsworth seated his guests.
“I’ll sit here,” he announced, “and I’ll ask Mrs. Kenerley to sit at my right. The rest of you may sit where you choose, alternating, of course, the girls and the men. Now, here’s my plan. At every meal, the men sit as we do tonight, and the ladies move one seat to the right. This gives us new companions each time, and prevents monotony.”
“Here’s me,” said Patty, dropping into the chair at Bill’s left hand, while Channing sat the other side of Patty. Laughingly, they all found places, and dinner was served.
It was an unusual experience. The hotel dining-room was ornate in design and appointments, and its green and gold colouring and soft glow of silk-shaded lights made a charming setting for the merry party round the big table. The other tables, and there were many of them, looked as if they might be occupied by the ghosts of the departed guests.
“It’s like being castaways on a beautiful and very comfortable desert island,” said Patty, as she looked appreciatively at a huge tray of hors d’œuvre offered her by a smiling waiter. “I do love these pickly-wickly things, and never before have I felt that I might take my time in choosing. But, here at – what’s the name of the hotel, Bill?”
“Never mind the name on its letter-heads,” he returned, “we’ll call it Freedom Castle. Everybody is to follow his or her own sweet will, – or somebody else’s if that seems pleasanter.”
“Who has the pleasantest will?” asked Patty, looking around; “I want to follow it.”
“I have,” said Chick, promptly. “My will is something fierce in the way of pleasantness. I daresay every one here will fall all over themselves in their haste to follow it. Ha, do I hear a familiar strain? I do!”
He did, for just then the hotel orchestra, a fine one, struck up a popular air.
“Music, too!” exclaimed Mona. “All the comforts of home, and none of the cares. This is just too perfect! Billy Boy, you’re a wonder!”
“To think of it being Bill’s hotel!” said Daisy, in an awed voice.
“To think of our being here without any bills,” put in Roger Farrington. “That’s the best part of it. It’s like being given the freedom of the city!”
“The freedom of the country,” Adele corrected; “that’s much better.”
The orchestra, on a platform, gorgeous in scarlet, gold-braided coats, began a fascinating fox-trot.
Kit Cameron looked across the table at Patty, with a nod of invitation.
Smiling assent, Patty rose, flinging her napkin on the table. Kit came round to her, and in a moment they were dancing to the music that had called them. Skilfully, Kit guided her among the maze of tables and chairs, for they were the two best dancers in the crowd, and they had no difficulty in avoiding obstacles.
“Have a turn, Adele?” asked Bill, laying down his fork.
“No, thank you; it’s all very well for the girls, but your chaperon is too nearly middle-aged for such capers.”
“Nonsense; but maybe you’re wise to save your energies for an evening dance.”
Several of the young people did dance a few turns, but Chick Channing speedily caused them to halt by announcing the arrival of mushrooms under glass.
“Whoosh!” cried Kit, “back to nature! We can dance at any old time, but mushrooms under glass are an event! I say, Bill, I’m glad the cook didn’t leave with the guests.”
“The whole serving force is under contract for a fortnight longer,” explained Farnsworth. “You can live on mushrooms, if you like.”
“It’s Paradise,” said Marie Homer, ecstatically; “I don’t ever want to go home. Does the mail come regularly?”
Everybody laughed at Marie’s look of anxiety, and Bill replied, “Yes, my child, you can get your daily letter from him up here.”
“He doesn’t write every day,” said Marie, so innocently that they all roared again.
“I wish I had somebody to write love-letters to me,” sighed Patty. “It must make life very interesting.”
“I’ll write them to you,” offered Chick. “It’s no trouble at all, and I’m the little old complete love-letter writer.”
“You’re right here in the spot, though, so that’s no fun. I mean somebody who isn’t here, – like Marie’s somebody.”
“Well, you must have plenty of absent adorers. Can’t you encourage their correspondence?”
“But then I’d have to write first, and I hate to do that, it’s so – so sort of forward.”
“That, to be sure. But it’s better to be forward than forlorn.”
“Oh, I’m not exactly forlorn!” said Patty, indignantly. “I can be happy with all these others, if t’other dear charmer is away.”
“Can you, Patty?” whispered Bill. “Are you happy here?”
“Oho, Little Billee, I am beatifically happy! Just see that confection Louis is bringing in! Could I be anything but happy with that ahead of me?”
The dessert that had just appeared was indeed a triumph of the confectioner’s art. Composed of ice cream, meringue and spun sugar, it was built into an airy structure that delighted the sight as well as the palate. Everybody applauded, and Adele declared it was really a shame to demolish it.
“It would be a shame not to,” said Patty, her blue eyes dancing in anticipation of the delicious sweet.
“What a little gourmande you are,” said Chick, watching Patty help herself bountifully to the dessert.
“’Deed I am. I love sweet things, they always make me feel at peace with the world. I eat them mostly for their mental and moral effect on me, for my disposition is not naturally sweet, and so I do all I can to improve it.”
“And yet you give the effect of a sweet dispositioned person.”
“She is,” spoke up Daisy, overhearing. “Why, Chick, Patty is the sweetest nature ever was. Don’t you believe her taradiddles.”
“I know the lady so slightly, I’m not much of a judge. But I feel sure she’ll improve on acquaintance,” and Chick looked hopeful.
“I hope so, I’m sure,” and Patty’s humble expression of face was belied by the twinkle in her eye.
Then dinner was over, and Adele rose and led the way to the great salon or drawing-room.
“Come for a little walk on the veranda,” said Chick to Patty. “Let’s get more acquainted.”
Patty caught up a rose-coloured wrap from the hall rack, and they went out and strolled the length of the long veranda that went round three sides of the house.
“Splendid crowd,” said Chick, enthusiastically; “and right down fine of old Bill to do this thing.”
“He is fine,” said Patty, impulsively; “whatever he does is on a big scale.”
“His friendships are, I have reason to know that. He’s done heaps for me, dear old chap.”
“Have you known him long?”
“Three or four years. Met him through Mona. Good sort, Mona.”
“Yes, Mona’s a dear. She’s the sort that wears well. Where is your home, Mr. Chick?”
“Nowhere, at present. I’ve lived in Arizona, but I’ve come East to grow down with the country. I’m a mining engineer, at your service.”
“I’d love to employ you, but, do you know, I seldom have need of the services of a first-class mining engineer.”
“Oh, I’m not so awfully first-class. Bill thinks he can use me in his manœuvres. We talked it over a bit on the way up, and I hope so, I’m sure.”
“Then I hope so, too.”
“Thank you. You’re a kind lady. Shall we sit in this glassy nook and flirt a bit?”
They had reached a portion of the veranda, glass-enclosed, and arranged with seats among tall palms and jars of flowers. There were shaded lights and a little illuminated fountain in the centre.
“I’ll stop here a moment, but I can’t flirt,” said Patty, demurely; “my chaperon won’t allow it.”
“Allowed flirting is no fun, anyway. Forbidden fruit is sweetest.”
“But sour grapes are forbidden fruit. How can sour be sweet?”
“Oh, it’s all according to your nature. If you have a sour nature, the grapes are sour. If a sweet disposition, then all fruits are sweet.”
“Even a lemon?”
“Nobody hands a lemon to sweet people.”
“Then they can’t have any lemonade, and I love it! I guess I’ll stop being so sweet – ”
“Good gracious, Patty, you couldn’t do that if you tried!”
This remark was made by Kit Cameron, who just then put his head in at the doorway and overheard Patty’s laughing decision.
“Hello, you two,” he went on; “you’ll have to stop your introspective conversation, and come and join the dance. Will you, won’t you come and join the dance? We’re only to have one, our dragon chaperon declares, and then we must all go by-by. So come and trip it, Patty of the fairy toes!”
The trio returned to the drawing-room, and after the one dance had been extended to half a dozen, Adele collected her headstrong charges and carried them off to bed.
“And you’re not to have kimono confabs all night, either,” she ordered. “Patty, you’ll be good for nothing tomorrow, if you don’t get some rest. And the others, too.”
But there was more or less chattering and giggling before the girls separated for the night. It seemed natural for them to drift into Patty’s boudoir and in their pretty negligées they dawdled about while Patty brushed her hair.
“What goldilocks!” exclaimed Marie, in admiration. And truly, Patty’s hair was a thing to admire. Thick and curling, it hung well below her waist, and shone with a golden glimmer as the light touched its rippling lengths.
“It’s an awful nuisance,” Patty declared; “there’s such a lot of it, and it does snarl so.”
“Let me help you,” cried Daisy, springing up and taking the brush from Patty’s hand. “Mona, do the other side.”
Mona seized another brush and obeyed, and as the two brushed most vigorously, Patty’s little head was well pulled about.
“Thank you, girls, oh, thank you ever so much, but truly, I don’t mind doing it myself! Oh, honestly, I don’t!”
Patty rescued her brushes, and soon had the rebellious locks in two long pigtails for the night.
“Now, scoot, all of you,” she said, “this is the time I seek repose for my weary limbs, on beds of asphodel – or – whatever I mean.”
“Beds of nothing,” said Mona, “I’m not a bit sleepy. Let us stay a little longer, Patty, dear, – sweet Patty, ah, do now.”
“I can’t,” and Marie started toward the door. “I’m awfully sleepy.”
“You don’t fool me, my infant,” said Patty, wisely. “Your eyes are like stars burned in a blanket! I know what you’re going to do! But don’t be alarmed, I won’t tell.”
Marie blushed and with murmured good-nights, ran away.
“Going to write a letter, of course.” And Daisy wagged her sapient head. “Who is the man, Pat?”
“Fie, Daisy! You heard me say I wouldn’t tell!”
“You only said you wouldn’t tell what she’s going to do. And we know that. Do tell us who he is!”
“I won’t do it. If Marie chooses, she will tell you herself. And anyway, Daisy, it’s no one you know. I don’t think you ever saw him and I doubt if you ever even heard of him.”
“Is he nice?”
“Charming. Full of capers, though. And Marie is so serious. But he’s very attractive.”
“Are they engaged? Oh, Patty, do tell us about it!”
“I can’t. I don’t know so very much about it myself; but what I do know is a sacred trust, and not to be divulged to a horde of rattle-pates. Now, will you make yourselves scarce? Go and write letters, go and darn stockings, – anything, but let me go to bed.”
Finally, Patty shooed the girls away, and locking her door against their possible return, she began to make ready for bed.
She glanced at her watch as she sat at her toilette-table. It was exactly midnight.
And at that moment her telephone rang.
“Those girls!” she thought to herself. “I’ll not answer it!”
But the bell kept ringing, and Patty took down the receiver with a soft “Hello.”
“That you, Patty?” and her astonished ears recognised Philip Van Reypen’s voice.
“For mercy’s sake! Where are you, Phil?”
“Home. In New York. Can you hear me all right?”
“Yes, plainly. How did you know I was here?”
“Learned it from your father. Say, girlie, why didn’t you get me a bid up there, too?”
“Do you want to come?”
“Do I! Aren’t you there!”
“Is that a reason?”
“The best in the world. Do get Farnsworth to invite me.”
“I can’t, Phil. He doesn’t want any – any more than we have here now.”
“You mean he doesn’t want me.”
“Why, doesn’t he like you?” Patty’s voice was full of innocent surprise.
“It isn’t that, but he wants you all to himself.”
“Nonsense! There are a dozen of us up here.”
“Well, I mean he’s afraid to have me there. By Jove, Patty, that’s a sort of a compliment. He’s afraid of me.”
“Don’t be silly, Philip. How’s Lady Van?”
“She’s all right. She’s at Newport, just now. I’m in town for a day or two, so thought I’d call up Spring Beach and maybe run down there to see you. And this is the immediate result. Well, look here, Patty, if I can’t get invited to Farnsworth’s Palace Hotel, for I hear it’s that, I’m going to Poland Spring, and then I can run over and see you anyway.”
“Oh, Philip, don’t do that!”
“Why not? Haven’t I a right to go to Poland Spring, if I like?”
“Yes, but don’t come over here.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t exactly explain it, myself; at least not over the telephone, but I don’t think it would be nice for you to come here when you were not invited.”
“Oh, I was spoken of, then?”
“Well, – yes, – since you will have it.”
“And Farnsworth wouldn’t have me?”
“Well, – I said not to have you.”
“Oh, you did! What a nice friend you are!”
“Now, Phil, don’t talk like that. I said – I said – ”
“Bless your heart, I know just how it was. Or nearly. But you could have had me asked – and you didn’t! Now, my lady, just for that, I am going to Poland Spring – start tomorrow. And, – listen, now, – if you really don’t want me to come over to the Farnsworth House, then you must come over to the Poland Spring House to see me! Get that?”
“Why, Phil, absurd! How could I go alone?”
“You needn’t come alone. Bring a chaperon, or another girl or a crowd of people if you like, or even a servant, but come! That’s all, so good-night, little girl. Pleasant dreams!”
The telephone clicked as Phil hung up, and with a little gasp, Patty hung up her receiver and threw herself on a couch to think it over. She couldn’t help laughing at the coil she was in, for she well knew she couldn’t go to Poland Spring House, unless with the whole crowd, – or nearly all of them. She pictured Bill reaching there to be greeted by Philip Van Reypen! Dear old Bill; after all he had done to make it pleasant for them, to hurt his feelings or to annoy him in any way, would be mean. She wished Phil had kept out of it. She wished there wasn’t any Phil nor any Little Billee, nor – nor – anybody, – and somehow Patty’s long, brown lashes drooped over her pansy blue eyes, – and, still robed in her chiffon and lace peignoir, and all curled up on the soft, spacious couch, – she fell sound asleep.
CHAPTER IV
BLUE ROCK LAKE
In a blaze of September glory, the sun shone across the lake. The leaves had not yet begun to turn, and the summer trees were as green as the stalwart evergreens, but of varying shades. From deep, almost black, shadowy forests, the range ran to brilliant, light green foliage, in a gamut of colour. Some of the younger and more daring trees crept down to the water’s edge, but much of the lake shore was rocky and more or less steep. Here and there a picturesque inlet had a bit of sandy coast, but the main effect was rugged and wild.
But even the intrusive sun could only peep into Patty’s boudoir through a chink or two between the drawn shades and the window frames. And so his light was not enough to wake the sleeper, still cuddled among the couch pillows.
But she was awakened by a bombardment of raps on the door.
“Patty!” called Daisy’s impatient voice; “whatever are you doing? Open this door!”
The blue eyes flew open. But Patty was the sort of person who never wakes all at once. Nan always said Patty woke on the instalment plan. Slowly, and rubbing her eyes, she rose and unlocked the door.
“Why, Patty Fairfield!” Daisy exclaimed, “your lights are still burning! You – why, look at you! You didn’t undress at all! You have on your evening petticoat and slippers! and the very same boudoir robe I left you in last night. And” – Daisy looked in at the bedroom door, – “your bed hasn’t been slept in! What is the matter?”
Daisy rattled on so, that Patty, still half asleep, was bewildered. “I don’t know – ” she began, “Philip called – ”
“Philip called! Patty, are you crazy? Wake up!” Daisy shook her a little and under this compulsion Patty finished waking up.
“Good gracious!” she exclaimed, laughing, “did I sleep there all night? No wonder I feel like a boiled owl.”
“But why, —why did you do it?”
“Fiddlesticks, I don’t know. It’s no crime, I suppose. I lay down there for a few minutes, after you hoodlums cleared out, and I suppose I fell asleep and forgot to wake up. That’s all. Lemme alone, and a bath and a cup of hot chocolate will restore my senses.”
“You dear little goose! I’ll run your tub for you. Though I suppose there are a string of maids waiting outside your door. Want ’em?”
“No, rather have you. But send half a dozen of them for some choclit, please.”
Still yawning, Patty began to take off her slippers and stockings. “Thank you, Daisykins,” she said, as Daisy returned from the bathroom. “Now, you light out, and I’ll make a respectable toilette. My, how I did sleep. I was worn out. But I feel fine now. Good-bye, Daisy.”
But Daisy was slow to take the hint.
“I say, Patsy, what did you mean by saying Philip called?”
Patty hesitated for the fraction of a second, and then decided it were wiser to keep her own counsel regarding that matter.
“Dreaming, I s’pose. Certainly, there was no Philip here in reality.”
“But you said distinctly that Philip called,” Daisy persisted.
“Well, s’pose I did? What could it have been but a dream? Do you imagine I had a real, live caller?”
“No; but it must have been a vivid dream!”
“It was,” said Patty. “Now scoot!”
Daisy scooted, and Patty locked her door again.
“Well, you’re a pretty one!” she said to herself; “the idea of sleeping all night without going to bed. Adele will be terribly exercised over it. But I have other things to worry about. I wonder if Philip will really come up here, and if he does, what Bill will do. Would I better tell Bill about it? Or, just let the situation develop itself? Oh, what troubles some poor little Pattys do have! Come in!”
This last in response to a gentle tap at the hall door.
A trim maid entered with a tray.
“Oh, joy!” cried Patty; “I’m simply starving, – Mary, is it?”
“Sarah, ma’am,” returned the girl, gazing admiringly at pretty Patty, who was now in a kimono of light blue silk, edged with swans-down.
“Well, Sarah, stay a few moments, and you can help me dress. Sit down there.”
Sarah obediently took the small chair Patty designated, and folded her hands on her immaculate frilled apron.
“Tell me about the hotel, Sarah,” said Patty, as she crunched the crisp toast between her white teeth, and smiled at the maid.
“What about it, ma’am?”
“Well, let me see; how did you maids feel when you found the guests were leaving?”
“At first we feared we’d lose our money, miss; then we were told that our contracts held till the end of this month, and if we would stay as long as we were asked to, we’d get paid in full.”
“Wasn’t that nice?”
“Fine, ma’am. I’m using mine for my little sister’s schooling, and I’d sore miss it.”
“So all the servants were willing to stay?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. You see, none could get good places up here. The hotels all have their own, and many of them will close the first of October.”
“I see. Isn’t it funny to have a dozen guests, and the rest of this big place empty?”
“It is, indeed, miss. Shall I get you some hotter chocolate?”
“No, I’ve finished, thank you. Now, you call somebody else to take the tray, and you stay to help me. I’ve taken a fancy to you, Sarah, and I want you for my personal maid while I’m here. Is that all right?”
“Yes, indeed, miss. I’m proud to do for you. But I’m not a trained lady’s maid.”
“Never mind, I’ll train you.”
Patty had a nice way with servants. She was always kind, and treated them as human beings, yet never was she so familiar that they presumed on her kindness. She soon discovered that Sarah, though untrained, was deft and quick to learn, and she instructed the maid in the duties required.
And so, when Adele came tapping at the door, she found Patty seated before the mirror, while Sarah was coiling the golden hair according to directions.
“Well, girlie, what’s this I hear about your sleeping on a couch, when a perfectly good bed was all turned down for you?”
“Oh, just one of my whimsies,” returned Patty, airily. “Don’t bother about it, Adele.”
And Adele was wise and kind enough not to bother.
Soon, arrayed in a most becoming white serge, with emerald green velvet collar and cuffs and a pale green silk blouse, Patty descended the great staircase to find most of the party grouped there, about to start for a ramble round the lake.
“’Course I’ll go,” she said in answer to eager inquiries. “My hat and gloves, Sarah, please.”
“Yes, Miss Patty,” and the maid, who had been following her, returned upstairs.
“I’ve adopted Sarah as my personal bodyguard,” Patty said. “You don’t mind, Bill, do you?”
“Not a bit!” he replied heartily. “The house is yours and the fulness thereof. I hope all of you ladies who want maids, or keepers of any sort, will call on the service force for them.”
Sarah came down then, bringing Patty’s hat, a soft felt, green, and turned up on one side with a Robin Hood feather. It was most becoming, as Patty tilted it sideways on her head, adjusting it before a large mantel mirror.
“Now we’re off,” she said, gaily; “but we ought to have Alpenstocks, or swagger-sticks.”
“Here are some,” said Bill, opening a cupboard door, and disclosing a lot of long sticks. Everybody selected one, and they set forth.
“Such a wonder-place!” exclaimed Marie, as at every fresh turn they found some new bit of scenery or different view. “I could stay here forever!”
“Me too!” agreed Mona. “What’s the name of the lake?”
“Something like Skoodoowabskooskis,” said Bill, laughing; “but for short, everybody calls it Blue Rock Lake.”
“Because the rocks on the other side look so blue, I suppose,” suggested Daisy.
“I believe you’re right!” cried Chick, in mock amazement at her quick perception. Whereupon Daisy made a face at him.
“Don’t mind him, Daisy,” said Patty; adding, teasingly, “it’s perfectly true, the distant rocks do look blue, hence the term, Blue Rock Lake, – blue rocks and the lake, see?”
“Oh, you smarty!” and Daisy lost her temper a little, for she hated to be made fun of; “if you tease me, I’ll tease you. What about a girl who wakes up, babbling of some ‘Philip’ or other!”
“Babbling nothing!” cried Patty. “And anyway, I’m always babbling, asleep or awake. Oh, see that bird! What a beauty!” As a matter of fact there was no bird in sight, but canny Patty knew it would divert attention from Daisy’s remark, and it did. After vainly looking for the beautiful bird, other distractions arose, and Patty breathed more freely that nobody had noticed Daisy’s fling.
But after they had walked all round the lake, and were nearing the hotel again, Bill stepped to Patty’s side and falling in step with her, put his strong, firm hand under her elbow, saying: “Want some help, little girl, over the hard places?”
Channing, who had been at her other side, took the hint and fell behind with some of the others.
“What’s this about your waking up with Philip’s name on your lips?” he said; “do you want to see him so badly? If so, I’ll ask him up here?”
Patty hesitated; here was her chance to get the invitation that Phil so coveted, and yet, she knew Bill Farnsworth didn’t want him. Nor was she sure that she wanted him, herself, if he and Little Billee weren’t going to be friendly. A nice time she would have, if the two men were cool or curt to each other.
So she said, “No, I don’t want him, especially. I daresay I was dreaming of him. I dream a lot anyway, of everything and everybody.”
“Dreaming?” said Farnsworth, in a curious voice; “is that all, Patty?”
“All? What do you mean?”
“Is that all the communication you had with Van Reypen last night? In dreams?”
Patty looked up, startled. Did Bill know of the telephone message? Would he care? Patty felt a certain sense of guilt, though, as she told herself, she had done nothing wrong. Moreover, the only reason she had for not telling Farnsworth frankly of Phil’s message, was merely to spare him annoyance. She knew he would be annoyed to learn that Phil had called her at midnight on the long distance, and if he didn’t already know it, she would rather he shouldn’t. But did he, or not?
“Pray, how else could I talk to him?” she said, laughingly. “Do you suppose I am a medium and had spirit rappings?”
“I suppose nothing. And I know only what you choose to tell me.”
“Which is nothing, also. Why, Little Billee, you’re in a mood this morning, aren’t you?”
She glanced up into the face of the man who strode beside her. It was a fine face. Strong, well-cut features made it interesting rather than handsome. It was also a determined face, and full of earnestness of purpose. But in the blue eyes usually lurked a glint of humour. For the moment, however, this was not noticeable, and Farnsworth’s lips were closed rather tightly, – a sure sign with him, of seriousness.
“Since you choose to tell me nothing, I accept your decision. But once more I ask you, for the last time, do you wish me to invite Van Reypen up here?”
A moment Patty thought. Then she said, “No, thank you, Billee, I don’t.”
Farnsworth’s brow cleared, and with a sunny smile down at her, he said: “Then the incident is closed. Forget it.”
“All right,” and Patty smiled back, well pleased that she had decided as she did.
“You little goose!” said he, “I know perfectly well that you called up Van Reypen on the telephone last night.”
“I did not!” declared Patty, indignantly.
“Now, Apple Blossom, don’t tell naughty stories. I say, I know you did.”
“All right, Mr. Farnsworth, if you doubt my word, there’s nothing more to be said.”
Patty was thoroughly angry, and when she was angry she looked about as fierce as a wrathy kitten. But, also, when Patty was angry, a few foolish tears would crowd themselves into her eyes, and this only served to make her madder yet. She turned from him, wanting to leave him and join some of the others, but she couldn’t, with those silly drops trembling on her eyelashes.
“Look up, Apple Blossom,” said a gentle voice in her ear. Farnsworth’s voice was one of his chief charms, and when he modulated it to a caressing tone, it would cajole the birds off the trees.
Patty looked up, and something in her blue eyes glistened through the tears, that somehow made her look incapable of “telling a naughty story.”
“Forgive me, Posy-Face,” Farnsworth murmured, “I will believe you, whatever you tell me. I will believe you, whether I think you’re telling the truth or not!”
At this rather ambiguous statement, Patty looked a little blank. But before she could ask further explanation, they had reached the hotel and they all went in.
