Patty's Friends Part 18

They went into the old church, which was on the estate, they visited the farmhouses and stables, and Patty found Mr. Snowden a kind and entertaining guide.

CHAPTER X

A MOMENTOUS INTERVIEW

The rest of their stay at Herenden Hall pa.s.sed off delightfully. Patty fitted into her own niche, and everybody liked the natural, unaffected young girl.

She and Jack Merivale became good chums, and went fishing together, and rowing on the pond like old cronies.

It was Patty's nature to make friends quickly, and during her stay in Kent, she had a royal good time. Lord Ruthven talked over the matter with Lady Hamilton, and as he chose to consider it all a great joke on himself, she also took his view of it. As for Patty, she was so engrossed with other people that she nearly forgot all about the moonlight episode.

Only sometimes, when she chanced to catch sight of Lord Ruthven, she would say to herself, "Sylvester, _Sylvester!_" and then turn away to hide her laughter.

They stayed over until Tuesday, and then took the noon train back to London, Lady Herenden expressing an earnest wish that Patty would visit her again. Lady Kitty and Patty reached the Savoy duly, and Mr. Fairfield invited the returned travellers to dinner in the great Restaurant. This was a treat in itself, and Patty gleefully ran up to her room to dress for dinner.

"Lend me one of your gowns to wear, Kitty?" she said, roguishly, looking in at her friend's door.

"Go away, you bad child. You're not in my care, now. I shall confess all to your father to-night at dinner, and then I've done with you."

"You've chosen a wise time," said Patty, sagely. "Father's always especially good-natured at dinner."

"Let us hope he will be," said Lady Hamilton, who was really a little anxious about it all. But she need not have been, for when the story was told, both Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield looked upon it as a huge joke.

Nan, especially, was almost convulsed with laughter at the account Patty gave of the moonlight scene, and her tragic repet.i.tion in a stage whisper of "Sylvester, _Sylvester!_" was truly funny of itself.

"It couldn't be helped," said Mr. Fairfield, "and it was in no way your fault, Lady Hamilton. It would have been a pity to shut Patty in her room on such a gala occasion, and no one could foresee that she was going to throw herself at the Earl's head!"

"Father!" exclaimed Patty, "I didn't do any such thing! He threw himself at my feet, if you please."

"Well, it's all right, chickabiddy, but don't let it happen again. At least, not for many years, yet. I suppose some time, in the far future, I shall be asked to be a father-in-law to a Duke or a Count, but let's put it off as long as possible."

"Then Nan will be Dowager d.u.c.h.ess," cried irrepressible Patty, "won't that be fun!"

"I can do it," said Nan, with an air of self-satisfaction that made them all laugh.

"I'm glad you exonerate me," said Lady Hamilton, with a sigh of relief.

"And since I let Patty appear too old, I'm going to average matters in this way. Next week is the child's birthday, and I want to give her a children's party, if I may. You and your husband may come, Mrs.

Fairfield, if you'll both dress as children of tender years."

"We'll do it," cried Mr. Fairfield. "This is an inspiration of yours, Lady Hamilton, and will, as you say, quite even things up."

Then plans were speedily made for the children's party. It was only a week to Patty's birthday, but Lady Kitty said that was long enough ahead to send invitations to an afternoon affair.

For the party was to be held from three to six, and each guest was asked to dress as a small child. Patty put considerable thought on her own costume, for she said her eighteenth birthday was an important occasion, and she must do it honour.

She finally decided on a quaint little Kate Greenaway dress, and big-brimmed hat of dark green velvet with white feathers tumbling over its brim. The frock was ankle length and short-waisted and she wore old-fashioned little slippers, with crossed ribbons, and black lace mitts. A shirred silk workbag hung at her side, and she carried a tiny parasol.

A few days before the party, Patty had an inspiration. It came to her suddenly, as most inspirations do, and it was so startling that it almost took her breath away.

"I _can't_ do it," she said to herself, one minute; and "I _will_ do it,"

she said to herself the next.

Not daring to think long about it lest she lose her determination, she started that very afternoon on her surprising errand.

She had the carriage to herself, for she had been to tea with a friend, and on her way home she asked the coachman to stop at a house in Carlton Terrace.

Reaching the house, Patty sent her card in by the footman, and awaited results with a beating heart.

The footman returned to the carriage door, saying, Sir Otho Markleham would be pleased to see Miss Fairfield, and resolutely crushing down her timidity, Patty went in.

She was ushered into a large and formal drawing-room, and waited there a few moments alone.

She wished she had been asked into a library, or some more cosy room, for the stiff hangings, and ma.s.sive furniture were oppressive. But she had no time for further thought, for Sir Otho entered the room.

He bowed with exceeding courtesy, but with a surprised air, which was indeed only natural.

Frightened almost out of her wits, Patty extended her hand, and though she tried to conquer her embarra.s.sment, her voice trembled, as she said: "How do you do, Sir Otho? I've come to see you."

She tried to speak jauntily, but there was a queer little break in her voice.

"So I perceive," said Sir Otho, coldly. "May I ask why I have this honour?"

This was too much for Patty. Her nerves were strained almost to the breaking point, and when Sir Otho spoke so repellently, she realised how foolish her little plan had been, and how hopeless was her dream of reconciling this dreadful old man and his daughter. Partly, then, because of her overwrought nerves, and partly because of the downfall of her cherished hopes, Patty burst into tears.

She rarely cried, almost never, unless at some injustice or undeserved unkindness. But when she did cry, it was done as she did everything else, with a whole-souled enthusiasm.

Utterly unable to control herself, for a few moments she sobbed, and shook in paroxysms of emotion.

The old gentleman fairly danced around.

"Bless my soul!" he exclaimed; "what is the matter? What does this mean?

Did you come into my house for the purpose of having a fit of hysterics?"

Now Patty wasn't a bit hysterical; it was merely a sudden blow of disappointment, and she would have been over it in a moment, but that Sir Otho made matters worse by storming at her.

"Stop it, do you hear? I won't have such goings on in my house! You are a madwoman!"

As Patty's sobs grew quieter, and she sat softly weeping into an already soaked handkerchief, her host's mood seemed to change also.

"When I consented to see Miss Patricia Fairfield," he said, quoting her name as it appeared on the card she had sent in, "I didn't know I was to be subjected to this extraordinary treatment."

"I d-didn't know it e-either," said Patty, wiping her eyes, and trying to smile. Then, as she saw Sir Otho's hard old face beginning to soften a little, she smiled at him through her tears.

"There, there, my dear, don't cry," he said, with a clumsy imitation of gentleness. "Shall I ring for a maid? Will you have some sal volatile?"