Patty's Success Part 43

Presently Nan came in. "If you prefer, Miss Farley," she said, "you needn't come down to dinner to-night. I'll have a tray sent up here. I know you're tired with your journey."

"No, thank you, Mrs. Fairfield; I'm not tired--and I think I'll go down."

The girl would have greatly preferred to accept the offer of dining in her own room, but she felt it her duty to conquer the absurd timidity which made her dread facing strangers at dinner.

"I'll be glad if you will," said Nan, simply. "Mr. Fairfield will like to welcome you, and Mr. Hepworth will be the only other guest. You are not afraid of him?"

"Oh, no," said Christine, her face lighting up at thought of her kind friend. "He has been so good to me. His criticisms of my work helped me more than any of my teachers'."

"Yes, he is an able artist and a man of true kindness and worth," agreed Nan. "Very well, Miss Farley, we dine at seven."

"Now, Nan," began Patty, smiling, "that's the wrong tone. We're going to make this girlie feel homelike and comfortable and omit all formality.

We're going to call her by her first name, and we're going to treat her as one of ourselves. Now you just revise that little speech of 'We dine at seven, Miss Farley.'"

"All right," said Nan, quickly catching Patty's idea. "I'm glad to revise it. How's this? Dinner's at seven, Christine, but you hop into your clothes and come on down earlier."

"That's a lot better," said Patty, approvingly patting her stepmother's shoulder, while Christine Farley, who was all unaccustomed to this sort of raillery, looked on in admiration.

"You see," she said, "I've only very plain clothes. I'm not at all familiar with the ways of society, or even of well-to-do people."

"Oh, pooh!" said Patty, emphatically, if not very elegantly. "Don't you bother about that in this house. Trot out your frocks and I'll tell you what to put on."

After some consideration she selected a frock of that peculiar shade known as "ashes of roses." It was of soft merino and made very simply, with long, straight lines.

"Do you like that?" said Christine, looking pleased. "That's my newest one, and I designed it myself. See, I wear this with it."

She took from her box a dull silver girdle and chatelaine of antique, carved silver, and a comb for her hair of similar style.

"Lovely!" cried Patty. "Oh, you're an artist, all right! Dress your hair low--in a soft coil; but of course you know how to do that. I'll send Louise to hook you up, and I'll come back for you when I'm dressed.

Good-by for now."

Waving her hand gaily, laughing Patty ran away to her own room, and Christine sank down in a big chair to collect her senses.

It was all so new and strange to her. Brought up in the plainest circ.u.mstances, the warmth and light and fragrance of this home seemed to her like fairyland.

And Nan and Patty, in their gay moods and their happy self-a.s.suredness, seemed as if of a different race of beings from herself.

"But I'll learn it," she thought, with a determination which she had rarely felt and scarce knew she possessed. Her nature was one that needed a spur or help from another, and then she was ready to do her part, too.

But she could not take the initiative. And now, realising the disinterested kindness of these good people, her sense of grat.i.tude made her resolve to meet their kindness with appreciation.

"Yes," she said to herself, as she deftly dressed her hair in front of the mirror, "I'll conquer this silly timidity if it kills me! I'll take Patty Fairfield for a model, and I'll acquire that very same ease and grace that she has."

Christine was imitative by nature, and it seemed to her now that she could never feel stupidly embarra.s.sed again.

But after Patty came to take her downstairs, and as they neared the drawing-room door, the foolish shyness all returned, and she was white and trembling as she crossed the hall.

"Brace up," whispered Patty, understanding, "you're looking lovely, Christine. Now be gay and chattery."

"Chattery," indeed! Her tongue seemed paralysed, her very neck felt strained and stiff, and she stumbled over the rug in her effort to stop trembling. In her own room, alone with Patty and Nan, she had overcome this, but now, in the brilliantly lighted drawing-room and the presence of other people, the terrible timidity returned, and Christine made a most unsuccessful entrance.

But Mr. Fairfield ignored the girl's embarra.s.sment, and said, cordially but quietly: "How do you do, Miss Farley? I am very glad to welcome you here."

His kind handclasp rea.s.sured her even more than his pleasant words, and then Mr. Hepworth greeted her.

"You did well to come," he said. "I am glad to see you in New York at last."

But Christine couldn't recover herself, and so, as the kindest thing to do, the rest rather let her alone and chatted on other subjects.

Gradually she grew less agitated, and as their merry chit-chat waxed gay and frivolous, her determination returned, that she, too, would acquire this accomplishment.

Then dinner was announced, and, though outwardly calm, the Southern girl was inwardly in great trepidation lest she commit some ignorant error in etiquette.

But she was of gentle birth and breeding, and innately refined, so she knew intuitively regarding all points, save perhaps some modern trifles of conventional usage.

Nan, who was watching her, though un.o.bserved, led the conversation around to subjects in which Christine might be likely to be interested, and was rewarded at last by seeing the girl's face light up with an enjoyment unmarred by self-consciousness.

Gradually she was induced to take some part in their talk, and once she told an anecdote of her own experience without seeming aware of her unusual surroundings.

"She'll do," thought Patty. "It isn't ignorance or inexperience that's the greatest trouble; it's just ingrowing shyness, and she's got to get over it; I'll see that she does, too!"

Mr. Hepworth read Patty's unspoken thoughts in her eyes and nodded approval.

Patty nodded back with a dimpling smile, and Christine, seeing it, vowed afresh to gain the ability to do that sort of thing herself.

For all Southern girls have a touch of the coquette in their natures, but poor Christine's was nearly choked out by the weeds of timidity and self-consciousness.

After dinner it was easier. They went to the cosy library, and the atmosphere seemed more informal.

Mr. Hepworth brought up the subject of Miss Farley's work, and she was persuaded to fetch some sketches to show them.

Though not able to appreciate the fine points of promise as Mr. Hepworth did, they were all greatly pleased with them, and Mr. Fairfield declared them wonderful.

In her own field Christine was fearless and quite sure of herself.

She talked intelligently about pictures, and many pleasant plans were made for taking her to see several collections then on exhibition, as well as to the Metropolitan and other art galleries.

Nan and Patty exchanged pleased glances as Christine talked eagerly, and with shining eyes and pink cheeks, about her own aims and ambitions.

Mr. Hepworth was responsive, and advised her on some minor points, but the great question of her art education in New York was not touched upon that first evening.

Christine had grown almost gay in her chatter, when Kenneth was announced. Like a sensitive plant at a human touch, she lost all her poise, her face turned white, and her lips quivered as she braced herself for the ordeal of meeting a stranger.

"Oh!" thought Patty, almost disgusted at this foolishness, "she is the limit!"

But Nan appreciated more truly the real state of the case, and knew that Christine had borne just about all she could, and that owing to physical fatigue and mental strain her nerves were just about ready to give way.

"How do you do, Kenneth?" said Nan, airily. "Too bad you didn't come earlier. I am just taking our little guest away from this admiring crowd, who are tiring her all out with their admiration. She may just say 'howdy' to you, and then I'm going to carry her off. Miss Farley, this is our Kenneth--Mr. Harper."