Kitabı oku: «Patty's Fortune», sayfa 3
CHAPTER V
M’LLE FARINI!
According to Farnsworth’s plan, at luncheon, each girl moved her seat one place to the left. This put Adele at the host’s left, and moved Patty on farther, so that she was between Jim Kenerley and Chick Channing.
“Welcome, little stranger,” said Chick, as they sat down. “I’ll have you now, and again tonight at dinner, sitting by me side, and then life will be a dreary blank, while you slowly jog all round the table, getting back to me, two days after tomorrow. How the time will drag!”
“You’re so flattering!” and Patty pretended to be terribly pleased. But, as a matter of fact, she was wishing she could sit next Little Billee, and find out whether he was really angry at her. Also, she decided she would tell him all about the telephone message, for he apparently believed she had told him a falsehood. And, too, it occurred to her, that he might not make any great distinction between calling and being called on the telephone.
“What do you think about it? Shall us go?” said Chick, and Patty realised, with a start, that she had been so lost in her thoughts, that she hadn’t heard the talk at table.
“Go where?” she asked, looking blank.
“Oh, come back from dreamland, and learn what’s going on. Cameron knows of a wonderful hermit, who lives in a shack in the woods and tells fortunes. Do you want to snatch the veil from the hidden future, and learn your fate?”
“Yes, indeed; I just love fortune tellers! Where is he, Kit?”
“Off in the woods, in a tumble-down old shanty. But he’s the real thing in seers! I was out for an early morning prowl, and I discovered him. Bobbink, that’s my pet bellhop, says he’s greatly patronised by the populace, but though he gets lots of coin, he won’t move into better quarters or disport himself more as a man of means.”
“Well, I want to go to see him,” Patty declared. “Will you go, Billee?”
“Can’t go this afternoon, Patty; I’m sorry, but I have another engagement.”
“So have I,” said Daisy, looking a little conscious. “Let’s leave Mr. Fortune Teller till tomorrow morning.”
All agreed to this, and after luncheon was over, they proceeded to plan various sports.
“Tennis, Patty?” asked Chick.
“No; too poky.” And Patty gave a restless gesture, most unusual with her, and only indulged in when she was bothered about some trifle. She wanted to get a moment alone with Farnsworth and tell him about Phil. She knew from the way Little Billee looked at her, or, rather, didn’t look at her, that he was hurt or offended, or both.
“Golf then?” Chick went on.
“No, too slow.”
“Well, how ’bout lawn bowls?”
“What are they?”
“Never tried lawn bowls! Oh, they’re lots of fun. Come on.”
In a short time they had collected half a dozen people and were in the midst of a gay game, when Farnsworth suddenly appeared, riding a big, black horse. Very stunning he looked, for his riding togs were most becoming and he sat his horse with all the grace and easy carelessness of the Western rider.
“Oh, Billee,” cried Patty, dropping the bowling ball she was about to roll, “I want to go riding!”
And then she was covered with chagrin, for Daisy came out of the hotel, also garbed in the trimmest of riding costumes, and a groom led a horse for her to mount.
“Do you, Patty?” said Bill, not unkindly, but with a disinterested air. “You may. There are lots of horses in the stables.”
Patty quickly recovered her poise. “Thank you,” she cried, gaily; “a little later, then. Will you go, Chick?”
“Will I! Just try me!”
“Well, we’ll finish this game, and then there will be time enough.”
The game over, they went for a ride. Patty’s riding habit was dark green, of modish cut and style. She was a good horsewoman, though she seldom rode. Channing, likewise, was a good rider, but he made no such picturesque effect in the saddle as Big Bill.
“Whither away?” he said, as they started.
“Is it too far to go over to Poland Spring House?”
“Not a bit. It’s a goodish distance, but the road is splendid, and it isn’t four yet.”
So they set off briskly for that destination. The exhilarating air and exercise quite restored Patty’s good humour, and she cast off all thought of petty botherations and enjoyed herself thoroughly.
“Great!” she exclaimed, smiling at Chick, as they flew along.
“Yes, isn’t it? And it’s not so very far, we’re nearing the approach to the place now. We’ll have time for tea, and get back well before dark.”
“Lovely! Oh, what a big hotel! And will you look at the squirrels!”
Sure enough, the lawn and verandas were dotted with fat gray squirrels. They were very tame and had no fear of people or horses. They welcomed Patty and Chick, by sitting up and blinking at them as they dismounted and grooms took their horses away.
Asking for the tea room, they were shown the way, and ushered to a pleasant table.
“Chocolate for me, please,” said Patty, as the waiter stood with poised pencil. “I hate tea. So chocolate, and dear little fussy cakes.”
“Chocolate is mine, too, then. Whatsoever thou eatest that will I eat also. Well, by Jove, will you look over there!”
Patty looked in the direction that Chick’s eyes indicated, and there, at a small table, busily eating cakes and tea, sat Farnsworth and Daisy Dow.
“Shall we join them?” asked Chick.
“Join them! Oh, no, they don’t want joiners. They’re absorbed in each other.”
They did look so. Bill was earnestly talking and Daisy was listening with equal intentness. Her face was bright and animated, while Farnsworth’s was serious and thoughtful.
Patty was angry at herself for being one whit disturbed at sight of them, thus chummily having their tea, and she tossed it off with a gay laugh. “Besides, I’d rather chat with you alone than to have a foursome.”
“Good girl, Patty,” and Chick nodded approvingly. “Do you know I think you’re about as nice as anybody, after all.”
“So do I you,” and Patty sipped her chocolate with an air of contentment. “This is a much bigger hotel than ours, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but ours is more beautiful, I think, and quite big enough for our party.”
“Of course. Oh, what a stunning-looking woman! See, Chick, over toward your left.”
Channing turned slightly to see a very handsome dark-eyed woman, who smiled at him as their glances met.
“Why, bless my soul!” he exclaimed; “if it isn’t Maudie Kent. I say, Patty, don’t you want to meet her? She’s an actress, or was, and she’s a dear. Awfully good form and all that, and really worth while.”
“Yes, I’d love to know her,” said Patty, looking with interest at the stunning gown the lady wore. It was of flame-coloured silk, veiled with black net, and was matched by a wide hat of black with flame-coloured plumes.
“Excuse me a moment, then,” and Channing rose and went over to where the lady stood. She was alone, and he had no difficulty in persuading her to come to their table.
“You dear child,” said Miss Kent, as Channing introduced them; “how pretty you are! I’m so glad to know you. But what are you doing here with Chick Channing?”
“Just having tea,” said Patty, smiling back into the big dark eyes that looked at her so kindly.
“But are you staying here? Where are your people?”
“We are staying over at Freedom Hall,” she began, and then paused, for with those eyes upon her, she couldn’t quite make it seem a rational thing to do.
“Oh, it’s quite all right, Maudie,” Channing put in, “there’s a crowd of us, with chaperons and things, and our good host, by the way, is right across the room, at a tea-table.”
“That good-looking chap with the pretty girl? Oh, it’s Mr. Farnsworth! Mayn’t I know her, too?”
“Now, see here, Maudie, you can’t know everybody that I do. Be content with Miss Fairfield, at least for the present.”
“Oh, I am, more than content. No, I’ll have coffee, please. Chocolate is only for the very slim.”
“Surely you are that,” ventured Patty, glancing at the graceful form of the new acquaintance.
“But I wouldn’t be, if I indulged in sweet things. Enjoy them while you may, my dear, in after years you’ll be glad you did.”
“What are you doing here, Maudie?” asked Channing. “Are you alone?”
“Yes; I’m having a concert tonight, and I’m in such trouble. You see,” she turned to Patty, “I’m a sort of professional entertainer. I give concerts or recitals, and I get performers of the very best and usually they are most dependable and reliable. But tonight I have a concert scheduled, and my prima donna is lacking. If she doesn’t come on this next train, I don’t know what I shall do. I suppose I shall have to give back the ticket money, and call the affair off, and that means a great loss to me. For I have to pay the other performers their price just the same.”
“That’s a shame,” said Channing, sympathetically. “But she’ll surely come.”
“I’m afraid not. I’ve telegraphed and I can’t get her anywhere. I can’t help thinking she deliberately threw me down because she received a better offer, or something of the sort. But I mustn’t bore you with my troubles. Forget it, Miss Fairfield, and don’t look so concerned.”
“I’m so sorry for you,” said Patty, “to go to all that trouble and expense, and have it all for nothing.”
“Less than nothing,” said Chick, “for you stand to lose considerable, I suppose.”
“Yes, well over five hundred dollars. Oh, here are the motorbuses from the train. Now we’ll see.”
But though many guests arrived at the hotel the singer was not amongst them.
“No,” said Miss Kent, scanning them sadly, “she isn’t here. Oh, what shall I do?”
Patty’s mind was working fast. She knit her brows as she tried to think calmly of a wild project that had come into her mind.
“Miss Kent,” she began, and stopped; “I wonder – that is – ”
“Well, my dear, what is it? Do you want to ask something of me? Don’t hesitate, I’m not very terrifying, am I, Chick?”
“No, indeed. What is it, Patty?”
“Oh, of course, it wouldn’t do, – I hate to suggest it, even, – but you see, Miss Kent, I can sing – ”
“And Patty can impersonate the absent singer! And nobody would ever know the difference! Great!” cried Channing. “Oh, Maudie, your trouble is at an end!”
“Now wait,” said Patty, blushing. “I am not a professional singer, but I have studied with good masters, and I have a voice, not so very big, but true. Forgive this plain speaking, but if I could help you out, Miss Kent, I should be so glad.”
“You’re a little darling!” exclaimed Maud Kent; “I wonder if we could carry off such a thing. You see, your coming here, as you just did, a stranger, and talking to me only, looks quite as if you were the arriving singer. That part’s all right. As to your voice, I have no doubts about that, for you didn’t say you sang ‘a little.’ And any way, even a fair singer would do, in addition to the talent I have. But Miss Fairfield, I can’t accept this from you. Will you take just the price I expected to give M’lle Farini?”
“I couldn’t accept money, Miss Kent. That would be impossible. I’m glad to do this to help you out, for it’s no trouble for me to sing, I love to do it. And don’t bother about the payment. Give it to some charity, if you like.”
“Oh, I can’t accept your services without pay! But if you knew what a temptation it is!”
“Yield to it, then,” and Patty smiled at the troubled face. “But first, you must hear my voice. You can’t decide before that. Where can we go?”
“Come up to my apartment, no one will hear us there, and if they should, it’s no great harm. One may practise, I suppose. You may come too, Chick, if you like.”
The three left the tea-room, and as they disappeared through the door, Farnsworth caught sight of Patty’s face.
“What does that mean?” he cried, so angrily that Daisy was startled.
“What does what mean?”
“Did you see who went out that door?”
“No; who?”
“Patty and Chick Channing and Maudie Kent.”
“I know the first two, but who is Maudie Kent?”
“An actress! A woman Channing and I knew in San Francisco a good while ago. What can she be doing here? And how did she get hold of Patty? Though of course, Chick is responsible for that. But what are they up to? I’m going after them.”
“Bill, don’t do anything so foolish! Patty has a right to visit the lady if she wants to. It isn’t your business.”
“But Patty – with that woman!”
“Why, isn’t she a nice woman?”
“She’s an actress, I tell you.”
“Well, lots of actresses are lovely ladies. Isn’t this one?”
“Yes, of course, she’s a lovely lady. But Patty oughtn’t to be racing round with her.”
“Patty wasn’t racing! She wouldn’t do such a thing in Poland Spring House. Now, Bill, put it out of your mind. There’s no occasion for you to get stirred up because Patty has made a new acquaintance. And I guess Chick Channing can take care of her, he wouldn’t let her know anybody who wasn’t all right.”
“Chick is thoughtless. He likes Maudie, and so do I. But she’s no fit companion for Patty.”
“Why? Is Patty Fairfield better than us common people? Is she made of finer clay? Wouldn’t you want me to meet the Maudie lady?”
“Oh, you. Why, that wouldn’t matter so much.”
“Bill Farnsworth! What a speech! I guess I’m every bit as good as Patty Fairfield.”
“Of course you are, Daisy. Don’t be silly. But you’re more – more experienced, you know, and a little less – less conventional. Patty has never had half the experience of the world that you have. I don’t want her mixed up with that sort of people, and I won’t have it!”
“Well,” and Daisy spoke coldly, “I don’t see how you can help it. They’ve gone off, and you can’t very well follow them, or have them arrested. Probably Chick and Patty are starting for home. And I’m sure it’s time we did.”
“But I can’t go off and leave Patty here!”
“You can’t do anything else. You’re not Patty’s keeper, Bill, and it’s silly to act as if you were.”
“That’s so, Daisy.” Farnsworth’s fine face looked anxious and his eyes were sad. “Come on, I suppose we had better be going. I’ll order the horses round.”
Farnsworth kept a sharp eye out, but he saw no more of the trio who had left the tea room, and who had so disturbed him. In quiet mood he rode off at Daisy’s side, and they went back to the hotel.
CHAPTER VI
MAUDE’S CONFIDENCES
Meantime, Patty, in Miss Kent’s parlour, was singing her best. The scheme appealed to her very strongly. She was glad to assist the kind and beautiful lady, and moreover, she enjoyed an escapade of any sort, and this surely was one.
Miss Kent was delighted with her voice, and predicted an ovation for her. They selected several of Patty’s best songs, and had the accompanist in to rehearse with her.
“What about dress?” said Patty, after it was positively settled that she was to sing at the concert.
“I’ll ride over and get you whatever you want,” said Channing, anxious to be of service.
“Oh, no,” said Miss Kent, “that would be a shame for you to go to all that trouble. I have a little white tulle gown that can be made just right in a jiffy. I am a bit taller than Miss Fairfield, but a tuck will fix that. Now, here’s an important point. You see, the notices and the programmes all say M’lle Farini will sing. Shall we let it go at that? I mean, let Miss Fairfield impersonate M’lle Farini, or shall we have an announcement made at the opening of the concert, that Miss Fairfield is acting as substitute?”
“I’d rather let it go without the use of my name,” said Patty. “I don’t know as it would be quite right, but I’d love to let people think I was the Farini lady. It would be such fun.”
“Well,” said Miss Kent, “let’s just leave it. If we don’t say anything of course the audience will take it for granted that you are M’lle Farini. And if any objections are raised, or if it comes out afterward, I can say that I had to substitute you at the last moment, and there was no time to have new programmes printed.”
“That will be fine,” Patty declared; “I do love a joke, and this is really a good one, I think. Yes, let me be M’lle Farini, for one night only, and if the real owner of that name objects, why, it will be all over then, and she’ll have to take it out in objecting. But I shan’t disgrace her, even if I don’t sing as well as she does.”
“But you do, Miss Fairfield,” exclaimed Miss Kent; “she has a fuller, stronger voice, but yours has more melody and sweetness. You will remain here over night, of course.”
“Oh, I never thought about that!” and Patty looked a little alarmed. “I don’t know what Adele will say.”
“Oh, please do. You really must. I have two bedrooms in my suite, and I can make you very comfortable.”
“Well,” and Patty hesitated; “I’ll have to talk this thing over with Mrs. Kenerley. I’ll telephone her now, and if she is willing, I will stay here all night.”
So Patty called up Adele and told her the whole story.
Adele listened, and then she laughed, good-naturedly, and told Patty she could do as she liked. “I think it’s a harum-scarum performance,” she said, “but Jim says, go ahead, if you want to. You stay with your new friend all night. Of course you couldn’t come home after the concert. I suppose Mr. Channing will stay at that hotel, too. And then he can bring you home in the morning. What will you wear?”
Patty told her, and then she asked Adele not to tell the others what she was up to. “I’m afraid they’ll come over,” she said; “and I can carry it through all right before strangers, but if all you people sat up in front of me, giggling, I couldn’t keep my face straight, I know; so don’t tell them till after it’s over.”
“All right, girlie, I will keep your fateful secret locked in my heart till you bid me speak. Have a good time, and sing your sweetest.”
“Now that’s all right,” and Patty looked enchanted at the prospect of fun ahead. “I’m going to have the time of my life! You go away now, Chick, and Miss Kent and I will see about my frock. Shall we meet at dinner?”
“Yes, I want you two girls to dine with me. Do you know anybody, Maudie, to make a fourth?”
“No, wait, Chick. I don’t want to dine in public. Nor do I want Miss Fairfield to be bothered with a company dinner. I’ll tell you a better plan. She and I will dine alone, here in my little parlour. You get your dinner downstairs, by yourself, and then, after the concert is over, you can invite us to supper and we can talk it over.”
Channing acquiesced, and then he went away, not to see them again until supper time.
“You are so good, Miss Fairfield – ”
“Oh, do call me Patty. I like it so much better.”
“I’ll be glad to. And you must call me Maude. It is a perfect Godsend, your helping me out like this. May I tell you just a little bit about myself?”
“I wish you would. And I’m so glad I can be of service to you.”
But first they must needs attend to the all-important matter of Patty’s frock, and sure enough, a white tulle of Maude’s was easily and quickly altered till it just fitted Patty. It was new and modish, made with full skirts and tiers of narrow frills. There was no lace or other trimming, save the soft tulle ruffles, and Maude decreed no jewelry of any sort, merely a few yellow roses at the belt, – the tiny mignon roses. These she ordered from the office, and by that time their dinner was served.
As they sat enjoying the few but well-chosen dishes that Maude had selected, she told Patty somewhat of her life, and Patty listened with interest.
“I have to support myself, my mother and a crippled sister,” Maude said, “and I had ambition to become a great actress. But after a fair trial, I found I could be at best only a mediocre actress. I found, however, that I had talent for organizing and arranging entertainments, and I concluded I could make more money that way than on the stage. So I took it up as a regular business, and I have succeeded. But this year has not been a very good one. I’ve had some misfortunes, and twice I didn’t get the money due me, because of dishonest assistants. And, I tell you truly, Patty, if I had lost five or six hundred dollars tonight, it would have been a hard blow. You have saved me from that, and I bless and thank you. Do you realize, little girl, what you are doing for me?”
“I’m so glad I can. Tell me about your sister.”
“Clare? Oh, she is the dearest thing! She never has walked, but in spite of her affliction she is the happiest, cheeriest, sweetest nature you ever saw. I love her so, and I love to be able to get little delicacies and comforts for her. See, here is her picture.”
Patty took the case and saw the portrait of a sweet-faced girl, little more than a child.
“She is a dear, Maude. I don’t wonder you love her. Oh, I’m so glad I happened over here today. Do you know Bill Farnsworth?”
“I met him once or twice the same winter I met Chick Channing. Mr. Farnsworth seemed very stiff and sedate. Chick is much more fun.”
“Chick is gayer, but Bill is an awfully nice man.”
“I was with a vaudeville troupe that year. It wasn’t very nice, – hard work and small pay. It was my last attempt on the stage. If I couldn’t be a big and fine actress I didn’t want to be any at all. So I’m glad I gave it up for this sort of work. This season is about over now, and I shall have entertainments in New York this winter. I’ve lots of influential patrons, and I hope for success. But I shall never forget your heavenly kindness in helping me out tonight. Now, perhaps, we had better be getting dressed.”
Patty made a careful toilette, for she wanted to look her best, and she succeeded. The soft dainty white tulle was exceedingly becoming, and she had done her hair the prettiest way she knew. Maude’s slippers were the least bit loose, but they looked all right, and Patty refused a loan of a pair of long white gloves.
“They’re not wearing them with evening gowns this season,” she said, “and I hate them, anyhow.”
“You’re right,” and Maude surveyed her critically. “Your arms are lovely, – so soft and dimpled. You are more effective without gloves.”
Through the opening numbers of the concert, Patty sat in the ante-room waiting her turn. She was not nervous or apprehensive, and when the time came, she walked out on the platform and bowed gracefully, with a cordial little smile.
She was to sing almost exactly the selections of M’lle Farini. But she had substituted others in one or two instances, and, of course, for encores, she could make her own choice.
And there were plenty of encores. Patty’s sweet voice charmed by its sympathy and grace, rather than by volume. And it made a very decided hit with the audience. They applauded continuously until Patty was forced to respond a second and a third time, after each of her numbers.
Channing, sitting in the audience, heard people saying, “Who is this Farini? I never heard of her before. Her voice is a little wonder!”
Miss Kent was delighted with Patty’s success. She had felt sure the hearers would like Patty’s music, but she did not expect such unanimous approval nor such enthusiasm.
Four times Patty was announced to sing, and as each was encored at least once, it made a good many songs. At the last appearance she was very tired, but she bravely endeavoured not to show it. She went through the number beautifully, but the deafening applause made it impossible for her not to give them one more.
“I can’t,” said Patty, as Maude came to her with entreaties. “I’m all in, as the boys say. Oh, well, I’ll sing one more little thing. No accompaniment at all, please, Maude.”
Then Patty returned to the platform and when the enthusiastic welcome ceased, she sang very softly a little cradle song. The haunting sweetness of the notes and the delicate languor of Patty’s tired voice made an exquisite combination more effective even than her other work. She finished in a pure, fine minor strain, and with a little tired bow, walked slowly from the stage.
Then the house went wild. They clapped and shouted brava! and demanded more. But the concert was over; Miss Kent made a little speech of thanks, and the footlights went out. Reluctantly, the people rose from their seats, but hung around, hoping to get a glimpse of M’lle Farini.
“It isn’t so much her voice,” Chick overheard somebody say, “as the way she has with her. She’s charming, that’s what she is, charming!”
“We can’t have supper in the dining-room,” Maude said, laughingly, to Channing. “Patty would be mobbed. Those people are just lying in wait for her.”
“But I want to,” cried Patty. “I’ve done the work, now I want the fun. Let’s have supper there. They won’t really come up and speak to me, when they don’t know me.”
“Won’t they!” said Maude. “But indeed you shall have supper wherever you like. You deserve anything you want. Come on, Chick, it’s to be just as Patty says.”
So to the supper-room they went, and there Patty became the observed of all. At first, she didn’t mind, and then it became most embarrassing. She could hear her name mentioned on all sides, and though it was always coupled with compliments, it made her uncomfortable to be so conspicuous.
“Though of course,” she said gaily, “they’re not talking about me, but about M’lle Farini. Well, I’m pretty hungry, Chick. Maude made me eat a light dinner, as I was going to sing. Now I want to make up. Can I have some bouillon, and some chicken à la king, and some salad, and some ice cream?”
“Well, well, what a little gourmande! Why, you’d have nightmare after all that!”
“No, I wouldn’t. I’m fearfully hungry. Honest I am.”
So Patty had her selection, and though she ate little of each course, she took small portions with decided relish.
“I feel like a new lady!” she declared when she had finished. “Is there dancing? Can I have a turn? I don’t want to go to bed yet.”
“Of course you can dance,” said Maude. “But you must remain M’lle Farini for the evening. Can you remember?”
“’Course I can. It’ll be fun. Besides, I’m only going to have one trot with Chick and then I’ll go by-by, like a good little girl.”
But, as might have been expected, after her one dance, Patty was besieged by would-be partners, clamouring for an introduction. The manager of the hotel was bribed, cajoled, and threatened in the various efforts of his guests to get introductions to Patty and to Miss Kent.
“Just one or two,” Patty whispered to Maude, and so two or three young men won the coveted presentation, and Patty was urged to dance.
But this she refused. She wanted to chat a little with these strangers, but she didn’t care to dance with men so lately made acquainted.
Channing acted as bodyguard, and his close inspection would have barred out any one he did not altogether approve of. But they were a nice class of men, polite and well-bred, and they were entertaining as well. Patty had a right down good time, and not the least part of the fun was the masquerading as another.
“You are staying here long, M’lle Farini?” asked Mr. Gaunt, an attractive man of musical tastes.
“No,” Patty replied, “I have to leave early in the morning. I’m due to sing at another hotel tomorrow night.”
“Ah, a near-by house?”
“Not very. Do you sing, Mr. Gaunt?”
“Yes, baritone. I’d like to sing with you. I’ve an idea our voices would blend.”
“I’m sure they would. I love to sing duets. But,” and pretty Patty looked regretful, “it cannot be. We will never meet again.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I feel it. But tomorrow I’m going to have my fortune told. If the seer says anything about our future meeting, then I’ll look for you later on.”
“If the seer is a true soothsayer, and no fake, he can’t help telling you we will meet again; because it is a foregone conclusion.”
“Then I shall expect you and look forward to the meeting,” and Patty held out her hand to say good-night, for it was after midnight, and Maude was making signs for her to come with her.
But just then a clerk came toward them with a puzzled face. “There’s a telephone call for a Miss Fairfield,” he said; “and the speaker says she’s here with Mr. Channing. Are you Mr. Channing, sir?”
“Yes,” said Chick. “It’s all right. M’lle Farini has occasion to use different names in her profession. Which booth?”
“This way, sir.”
Channing, beckoning to Patty, followed the man, and whispered to her to take the message, as it must be from some of the Freedom Castle people.
Patty went into the booth, and to her surprise was greeted by Philip Van Reypen.
“Well,” she exclaimed, a little annoyed, “is this a habit? Do you expect to call me up every night at midnight?”
“Now, Pattykins, don’t get mad. I called you up to apologize for what I said last night. I take this hour, ’cause I know you’re all wrapped up in people all day, and only at night do you have a moment to waste on me, and I must tell you how sorry I am that I was rude to you.”
“Rude, how?”
“Why, telling you I was coming up there whether you asked me or not. You don’t want me to, do you?”
“No, Phil, since you ask me plainly, I don’t. Not but that I’d like to see you, but I’m here on Bill Farnsworth’s invitation, and since he didn’t ask you, – ”
“Yes, I know. And it’s all right. I don’t want to butt in where I’m not asked. And I’m sorry I called you up, if it bothered you. And – ”
“All right, Phil. Now if you’ve any more to say, can’t you write it? For I’m just going to bed. Good-night.” And Patty hung up the receiver.
