Patty's Friends Part 6

"Lady Kitty is just right for you, and when you're in the mood you're a saucy puss. Now, listen, the reason for my invasion of your premises this morning is that I want you to go with me this afternoon to a tea on the Terrace of Parliament House."

Patty's tones were very persuasive, and she looked so daintily attractive in her fresh morning gown that few could have refused any request she might make.

Lady Hamilton in a soft, frilly white negligee, was sipping her coffee and looking over her letters when Patty had interrupted the process. She looked at her eager young guest with a slow, provoking smile, and said only:

"Nixy."

"But why not?" said Patty, smiling too, for she knew the Englishwoman had learned the slangy word from herself. "You'd have a lovely time. It's so beautiful there, and the people are always so cordial and pleasant."

"But I don't want to go."

"But you _ought_ to want to. You're too young to give up the pomps and vanities of this world. How can I _make_ you go?"

"You can't."

"I know it! That's just the trouble with you. I never saw such a stubborn, self-willed, determined----"

"Pigheaded?"

"Yes! and stupidly obstinate thing as you are! So, there now!"

They both laughed, and then Lady Hamilton said more seriously, "Shall I tell you why I won't go?"

"Yes, do, if you know, yourself."

"I know perfectly. I won't go to the Terrace because I'm afraid I'll meet my father there."

"For goodness' sake! Is that the real reason? But you _want_ to be reconciled to him!"

"Yes, but you don't understand. We couldn't have a 'Come home and all will be forgiven' scene on the Terrace, in sight of hundreds of people, so if I did see him, I should have to bow slightly, or cut him dead; it would depend on his att.i.tude toward me which I did. _Then_ the episode would merely serve to widen the breach, and it would break me up for days."

"I can't understand such conditions," said Patty, earnestly. "Why, if I were at odds with my father, and I can't even imagine such a thing, I'd rush at him and fling myself into his arms and stay there till everything was all right."

"That's just because you're of a different temperament, and so is your father. My father is an austere, unbending man, and if I were on the Terrace and were to fling myself into his arms, he'd very likely fling me into the Thames."

"You'd probably be rescued," said Patty, gravely; "there's always so much traffic."

"Yes, but father wouldn't jump in to rescue me, so I'd only spoil my gown for nothing. Give it up, dear, it's a case outside your experience.

Father and I are both too proud to make the first advance, and yet I really believe he wants me as much as I want him. He must be very lonely in the great house, with only the servants to look after him."

"Perhaps he'll marry again," said Patty, thoughtfully; "my father did."

"I wish he would, but I've no hope of that. Now, never mind about my troubles, tell me of your own. Who's taking you to the tea?"

"Mrs. Hastings. But she isn't giving it. We're to sit at some Member's table; I don't know whose. The Merediths will be there, too. Tom and Grace, you know. I like them very much."

"Yes, they're nice children. I know them slightly. Patty, some day I'll give a party for you, here in my rooms. How would you like that?"

"Oh, Lady Kitty, I'd love it! You'd have to come to that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, indeed, you couldn't drive me away. Let's have a children's party.

All dress as children, I mean; little children, or babies."

"Just the thing! I always wanted to see a party like that. I've only heard of them. Can we have it soon?"

"Next week, I think. I'll consult Mrs. Betham, and I think I can coax her 'round to it; though she's bound to wet-blanket it at first."

"Oh, yes, you can coax her, I know. How good you are to me! I do have beautiful times. Really too many for one girl. Honestly, Lady Kitty, do you think it's right for me to lead such a b.u.t.terfly life? I just fly about from one entertainment to another; and even if I'm at home, or alone, I always have a good time. Sometimes I think I'm a very useless member of this busy world."

Lady Hamilton smiled kindly. "How old are you?" she said.

"I'll be eighteen next month."

"And you haven't set the Thames on fire, or won the Victoria Cross yet?

But you're just at the age when your type of happy girlhood is often beset with over-conscientious scruples. Don't give way to them, Patty. It is not your lot to do definite, physical good to suffering humanity, like a Red Cross nurse, or the Salvation Army. Nor is it necessary that you should work to earn your bread, like a teacher or a stenographer. But it is your duty, or rather your privilege, to shed sunshine wherever you go.

I think I've never known any one with such a talent for spontaneous and unconscious giving-out of happiness. It is involuntary, which is its chiefest charm, but whoever is with you for a time is cheered and comforted just by the influence of your own gladness. This is honest talk, my child, and I want you to take it as I mean it. Don't _try_ to do this thing, that would spoil it all; but just remember that you _do_ do it, and let that satisfy your desire to be a useful member of this busy world."

"You're such a dear," said Patty, as she caressed her friend's hand affectionately; "if that's all true, and of course it is, since you say so, I'm very glad. But can't I do something more definite, more voluntary?"

"Of course there are always opportunities for doing good,--organised charities and those things that everybody takes part in. But if you want to widen your own field of benefaction, simply know more people. Whether you know them socially or as casual acquaintances, you will almost invariably add happiness to their lives, though it be in the merest trifles. Now, I'm a.s.suming that you have sense enough not to overdo this thing, and thrust yourself upon people who don't want you."

"Madam," said Patty, in mock indignation, "you may trust me. I am an American!"

"You are indeed; and you have what is known as Yankee good sense, if you are a mere infant."

"Eighteen is pretty old, _I_ think; and you're not so very ancient, yourself," retorted Patty; "but I'm willing to sit at your feet and acquire wisdom."

When dressed to go out that afternoon, Patty stopped at Lady Hamilton's door to say good-bye.

"Come in, and let me see if you'll pa.s.s muster. Yes, that frilly, flowered muslin is just right for the Terrace; and that hat with long streamers is truly pastoral."

"What's pastoral about the Terrace, pray?"

"Nothing but the ladies' clothes, and the lamb-like demeanour of the M.P.'s."

"I may see your father there."

"You may. But he'll be an exception to the lamb-like ones. Here, let me put these valley lilies in your belt. They rather suit your costume."

"Oh, thank you; they're beautiful. If I see your father, I'll give him a spray and say you sent it."

"Very well; he'll then pitch you and the flowers all in the Thames together." "Well, at least we'll cause a sensation among the lambs.

Good-by, Kitty lady."

"Good-bye, little one. Have a good time, and come in to tell me about it when you return."

The tea on the Terrace was a new delight. Patty had been through the Houses of Parliament before, but this was her first experience of that unique function known as the Terrace Tea.