Patty Blossom Part 15

"Where's the hairbrush?"

"Sarah brought it back with her, and left it where it belongs. I knew it might be broken or lost, but I could have replaced it, so I took that chance. And nothing else seemed just right to throw."

"But, Patty, it was an awful thing for Ray to do to you."

"Oh, don't fuss, Elise. Consider the circ.u.mstances. I had given her permission, in a sort of way, to keep me from that stunt if she could, and she had said, 'If I do, remember you said I might.' So you see, she was within her rights, in a way, and beside, I tell you I don't want to stir up a hornets' nest about it. The incident is beneath notice; and, do you know, I can't help admiring the girl's daring and ingenuity."

"Oh, you'd admire a Grizzly Bear, if he succeeded in eating you up!

You're a good-natured goose, Patty."

"Maybe. But I know the difference between a foolish prank and a real offence, that must be resented. You're the goose, Elise, not to see how silly it would be to raise a row against a girl who means nothing to me, and whom I shall never see again after this visit is over."

"All right, Pattikins, have it your own way. Ray Rose is a sort of law unto herself, and she has lots of friends who would take her part."

"It isn't that, exactly. If I wanted to raise the issue, I'm sure my side of the matter would be the side of right and justice. But it isn't worth my time or trouble to take it up. And, then, I did tell her to go ahead and outwit me, if she could, so there's that on her side. Now, Elise, about going home. I must go soon, for I want to be in New York a week before the wedding, and you do, too."

"Yes, I do. Suppose we stay down here for the skating party day after tomorrow, and then go to New York the day after that."

"I think so. Your mother will be going up about then, and the days will fairly fly until the fifteenth. It seems funny to think of Roger being married, doesn't it? He's such a boy."

"I know it. Mona seems older than he, though she isn't."

"A girl always seems older than a man, even of the same age. I want to have 'a shower' for Mona before the wedding."

"Oh, Patty, a shower is so--so----"

"So chestnutty? I know it. But Mona wants it. Of course she didn't say so right out, but I divined it. It isn't that she wants the presents, you know, but Mona has a queer sort of an idea that she must have everything that anybody else has. And Lillian Van Arsdale had a shower, so Mona wants one, and I'm going to give it for her."

"All right. What kind?"

"Dunno yet, but something strikingly novel and original. I shall set my great intellect to work on it at once, and invite the people by notes from here, before I go back to New York."

"All right, my lady, but if you don't get to bed now, you'll be pale and holler-eyed tomorrow, and that will upset your placid vanity."

"Wretch! As if I had a glimmer of a trace of a vestige of that deadly sin!"

The girls were very busy during the last few days of Patty's stay in Lakewood. There were many matters to attend to in connection with the approaching wedding. Also, Patty had become a favourite in the social circle and many parties were made especially for her.

And the day before their departure, Elise gave a little farewell tea, to which were bidden only the people Patty liked best.

The Blaneys were there, and, capturing Patty, Sam took her from the laughing crowd and led her to a secluded alcove of the veranda. It was a pleasant nook, enclosed with gla.s.s panes, and filled with ferns and palms.

"Sit thee down," said Blaney, arranging a few cushions in a long low wicker chair.

"I'm glad to," and Patty dropped into the seat. "I do think teas are the limit for tiring people out."

"You oughtn't to waste yourself on teas. It's a crime," and Blaney looked positively indignant.

"What would be the proper caper for my indefatigable energy?"

"You oughtn't to be energetic at all. For you, just to _be_, is enough."

"Not much it isn't! Why, if I just be'd, and didn't do anything else, I should die of that extreme bored feeling. And, it isn't like you to recommend such an existence, anyway."

"I shouldn't for any one else. But you, oh, my lily-fair girl, you are so beautiful, so peerless----"

"Good gracious, Mr. Blaney, what has come over you?" Patty sat up straight, in dismay, for she had no intention of being talked to in that vein by Sam Blaney.

"The spell of your presence," he replied; "the spell of your beauty,--your charm, your----"

"Please don't," said Patty, "please don't talk to me like that! I don't like it."

"No? Then of course I'll stop. But the spell remains. The witchery of your face, your voice----"

"There you go again! You promised to stop."

"How can I, with you as inspiration? My soul expands,--my heart beats in lilting rhythms, you seem to me a flame G.o.ddess----"

"Just what is a flame G.o.ddess?" interrupted Patty, who wanted to giggle, but was too polite.

"I see your soul as a flame of fire,--a lambent flame, with tongues of red and yellow----"

And now Patty did laugh outright. She couldn't help it. "Oh, my soul hasn't tongues," she protested. "I'm sure it hasn't, Mr. Blaney."

"Yes," he repeated, "tongues, silent, untaught tongues,--but with unknown, unvoiced melodies that await but the torch of sympathy to sound, lyrically, upon the waiting air."

"Am I really like that? Do you think I could voice lyrics, myself? I mean it,--write poetry, you know. I've always wanted to. Do you think I could, Mr. Blaney?"

"I know it. Unfolding one's soul in song is not an art, as some suppose, to be learned,--it is a natural, irrepressible expression of the inner ego, it is a response to the melodic urge----"

"Oh, wait a minute, you're getting beyond me. What do all these things mean? It's so much Greek to me."

"But you want to learn?"

"Yes; that is, I'm interested in it. I always did think I'd like to write poetry. But I don't know the rules."

"There are no rules. Unfetter your soul, take a pencil,--the words will come."

"Really? Can you do that, Mr. Blaney? Could you take a pencil, _now_,--and just write out your soul, and produce a poem?"

Patty was very much in earnest. Sam Blaney looked at her, the eager pleading face urged him, the blue eyes dared a refusal, and the hovering smile seemed to doubt his ability to prove his own proposition.

"Of course I could!" he replied. "With you for inspiration, I could write a poem that would throb and thrill with the eternal heart of the radiance of the soul's starshine."

"Then do it," cried Patty; "I believe you, I thoroughly believe you, but I want to see it. I want the poem for myself. Give it to me."

Slowly Blaney took a pencil and notebook from his pocket. He sat gazing at her, and Patty, fairly beaming with eager interest, waited.

For some minutes he sat, silent, almost motionless, and she began to grow restless.