Patty's Friends Part 21

Delightful music was played, and it was a pretty sight to see the fancy costumes gracefully flit about in the dance.

When it was nearly time to go home, one of the "nurses" came to Lady Hamilton saying that a belated guest had arrived.

"Who is it?" asked Lady Hamilton, surprised that any one should arrive so late.

"He says he is Peter Pan," answered the maid.

"Show him in, at once," said Lady Hamilton, "we surely want to see Peter Pan--the boy who never _could_ grow up."

And then through the doorway came a figure that unmistakably represented Peter Pan.

The well-known costume of russet browns and autumn-leaf tints, the small, close cap with its single feather, and the fierce-looking dagger were all there. To be sure, it was a much _larger_ Peter Pan than any of them had seen in the play, but otherwise it was surely Peter.

At first, Lady Hamilton looked completely bewildered, and then, as she realised that it was really her own father, she turned pale and then very pink.

Patty stood near her, and though she didn't know what might happen, she felt sure Lady Hamilton would be quite able to cope with the situation.

And so she was. After the first dazed moment, she stepped forward, and offering her hand, said cordially:

"Welcome, Peter Pan! We are indeed glad to see you. We're sorry you couldn't come earlier, but pray fall right into place with the rest of our little guests."

It was the nature of Sir Otho Markleham to do thoroughly whatever he did at all.

So, now, throwing himself into the spirit of the moment, he made friends with the young people at once. He entertained them with stories of his thrilling adventures with the pirates; he told them how he lost his shadow, he explained all about Fairies, and soon the other guests were all crowded about him, listening breathlessly to his talk.

Lady Hamilton, standing a little to one side of the listening group, looked at her father. She realised at once what it all meant. She knew that Patty had persuaded him to come, and that it meant complete reconciliation between father and daughter. The whole matter could be discussed later, if they chose, but the mere presence of her father beneath her roof meant forgiveness and peace between them.

Softly Patty came up beside her and clasped her hand. "You're a witch,"

whispered Lady Hamilton, as she warmly returned the pressure. "How did you ever accomplish this?"

"Never mind that, now," said Patty, her eyes shining. "Are you glad?"

"Glad! Yes, only that's a short word to express my joy and my grat.i.tude to you. But you took a risk! Suppose I had fainted, or done something foolish in my great surprise."

"Oh, I knew you better than that," returned Patty. "Isn't he a dear in that Peter Pan suit? And, only think, he took off his beloved 'sideboards,' so he'd look the character better."

"They'll soon grow again," said Lady Hamilton, carelessly; "but what I can't understand is why he came at all."

"Because he loves you," whispered Patty, "and you love him. And you've both been acting like silly geese, but now that's all over."

"Yes, it is!" And Lady Hamilton gave a soft sigh of relief. Then, following her father's example, she devoted herself to her young guests, and the time pa.s.sed pleasantly until their departure.

Of course, these young people knew nothing of the state of affairs between "Peter Pan" and his hostess, though they soon discovered the ident.i.ty of Sir Otho.

Soon after six, the "children" went away, declaring that it had been the event of the season, and they had never enjoyed a party more. The three Fairfields took leave at the same time, and Lady Hamilton was left alone with her father.

Exactly what was said in the next half hour neither of them ever told, but when it was past, the two were entirely reconciled, and Lady Kitty had consented to return to her father's house to live. Then she sent a note to the Fairfields, asking them all to dine with herself and her father that evening.

"And meantime, Kitty," said Sir Otho, "I'll go and get out of this foolish toggery."

"Yes, but save that suit to be photographed in. I must have your picture to put with those of the other 'children.'"

Sir Otho went away, enveloped in a long raincoat, and promising to return at the dinner hour. It was a merry dinner party that night.

Patty had a new frock in honour of the occasion, and as she donned the pretty demi-toilette of pale green gauze, Nan said it was the most becoming costume she had ever worn.

"Now that you're really eighteen, Patty," she said, "I think you might discard hair-ribbons."

"No, thank you," said Patty, as Louise tied her big, white bow for her.

"I'll wear them a little longer. At least as long as I'm in this country where Dukes and Earls run wild. When I get back to New York, I'll see about it."

"Good-evening, Miss Yankee Doodle," said Sir Otho, as he met her again at dinner. "Once more the American has conquered the English, and I would be greatly honoured by your kind acceptance of this tiny memento of the occasion."

As Sir Otho spoke, he handed Patty a small jeweller's box. She opened it and saw a dear little brooch in the form of an American flag. The Stars and Stripes were made of small sparkling brilliants of the three colours, and the twinkling effect was very beautiful.

"It is lovely!" she exclaimed; "how can I ever thank you! This is one of my very choicest birthday gifts, and I have received a great many."

"It is nothing," said Sir Otho, "compared to what you have given me," and he glanced affectionately toward his daughter.

And this was all he ever said by way of expressing his grat.i.tude to Patty, but it was enough, for the deep tone of his voice, and the suggestion of tears in his eyes, proved his inexpressible appreciation of Patty's achievement.

Then the matter was dropped entirely, and the conversation became general and gay. Sir Otho proved to be as entertaining to older people as he had been to the children at the party, and Lady Kitty was in her most charming mood. Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield quite did their share toward the general entertainment, but Patty was queen of the feast. She enjoyed it all, for she dearly loved a festivity of any sort, but to-night she was specially happy to think that her plan had succeeded, and that she had given to her dear friend Kitty what she most wanted in all the world.

"And I trust it will not be long," said Sir Otho, "before you will all accept an invitation to dine with me in Carlton Terrace, with Lady Hamilton presiding at my table."

This invitation was delightedly accepted, and then they all went up to the Fairfields' drawing-room, and Patty sang songs, and they all sang choruses, and then, as a final surprise, came a great, beautiful birthday cake, with eighteen lighted candles.

Then Patty cut the cake, and there were more congratulations and good wishes all round, and for pretty nearly the eighteenth time in her life Patty declared it was the best birthday she had ever had.

CHAPTER XII

SUMMER PLANS

"As usual," said Mr. Fairfield, smiling, "the question is, what is to be done with Patty?"

"Yes," agreed Patty, complacently, "you and Nan are usually trying to dispose of me in some way. It's lucky I'm good-natured and don't mind being left behind."

"That's a pretty speech!" exclaimed Nan, "after we've begged and coaxed you to go with us!"

"So you have, my pretty little Stepmother--so you have; and I'm just ungrateful enough not to want to go."

It was about a week after the birthday party, and the Fairfields were making their plans for the summer. The elders wanted to travel in Switzerland and Germany. Patty did not want to go with them, but her dilemma was, which of several delightful invitations to accept.

"You see," she went on, "I'm invited to spend June in five separate places, each one lovelier than the other. Now I can't chop myself up into five pieces."