Patty and Azalea

"All right, Phil, go in and win! You have my blessing,—and when Patty revives from her first shock of surprise, she'll bless you, too. It was Patty's work, getting Azalea here,—and Patty has tried every way in the world to help and improve her—"

"Patty has done wonders. And has paved the way, I admit. But it is nothing to what I shall do with and for Azalea, when I have her all to myself."

"She's not so very tractable—Zaly has a will of her own."

"She'd not be herself, if she hadn't. That's part of her big nobility of soul. But I'll take care of her manners and customs. If only she'll accept me, I've no fears for the future."

"But you must find out about her father. It's queer that she acts so mysterious about him. And, so far as I know, she's had no letters from anybody back home,—her home is at Horner's Corners. Awful place!"

"If we don't like the place, we'll buy it and make it over," said Van Reypen, serenely. "All right, Farnsworth, you've made me satisfied that I may try to win my prize,—and the rest will follow."

The two men went out to join the others on the porch. Both were in thoughtful mood. Van Reypen full of his new happiness, and eager to see Azalea again, Farnsworth still amazed, and a little uncomfortable over the whole matter. He felt a responsibility for Azalea, and yet, if Phil was willing to take her without further knowledge of her family,—why should he, Bill, object?

Azalea had not yet come downstairs, and Patty chaffed the two men on their sober faces.

"What's the matter?" she cried, gaily. "You two been quarrelling?"

"Come for a stroll on the terrace, and I'll tell you, Patty," said Phil, for he really wanted to tell Patty himself.

"You see," he said, as they passed out of earshot of the others, "I'm bowled over."

"I know! Betty Gale. And I'm so glad, Phil. I know you used to like me,—and I was and am fond of you,—but you needn't think I resent your loving another. I'm honestly glad, and I wish you all the happiness in the world!"

"Thank you, Patty, but,—wait a minute."

"Oh, I can't! I'm so excited over it! I'm going to announce it at dinner,—I wonder if I can't get the table re-decorated—with white flowers! I love an announcement party—"

"Patty,—don't,—let me tell you—"

"Oh, I know you'd hate the fuss and feathers, but Betty'll love it and—"

"But it isn't Betty!" Van Reypen managed to get in.

"Not Betty!" Patty stopped short and turned to face him.

"Oh,—Phil,—Elise?"

"You've one more guess coming," he smiled.

"Oh, who? Somebody in New York? Where is she? I'll invite her here!"

"You needn't,—she's here already. Why, Patty, it's Azalea."

"Azalea!" Patty's surprise was greater than Bill's had been, and she stood looking at Van Reypen with an absolutely incredulous gaze.

"Azalea!" she said, again.

"Yes,—and I want you to help me. When I spoke to her, this afternoon, she—she acted—well, strange—"

"Oh, Phil, it was only because she was so surprised,—as I am,—as everybody will be! Imagine Elise!"

Patty's face of horror, that changed to a mischievous smile, annoyed Van Reypen.

"I don't see, Patty, why you take it like that. Bill did, too. Now, it seems to me, if I see noble traits and qualities in Azalea, you and Bill ought to have perception enough to see them too."

"It isn't that,—she has noble traits,—some,—but—oh, Phil,—you and Azalea! King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid!"

"Patty, stop! I won't let you talk like that! I admit I'm blind to her faults,—if she has any,—for I'm desperately in love,—but I do look to you and Bill for sympathy and approval. And I don't want any of that King Cophetua talk, either! Just because I happen to be born under a family tree, and happen to have as much money as I want,—that's no reason for implying that those are my chief attractions. I can give Azalea more worth-while things than that! I can give her the love and adoration that is every woman's desire and right,—I can give her loving care and help,—I can—"

"Oh, Phil, how splendid you are! You make me 'most wish—" But Patty's honest blue eyes wouldn't let her say the words. "No, I don't wish anything of the sort! You are a splendid man, and I do appreciate you, but I have my Bill, and he's all the world to me. Now, I'm more than glad you've found a your fate at last,—but—Azalea!"

"Stop it, Patty! I find I've got to forbid these repeated expressions of amazement. You must get used to the idea, and you may as well begin at once!"

"You're right, and I will! First of all, honest and hearty congratulations and may you both be very, very happy,—as happy as we are,—I can't ask more!"

"Thank you, Patty, and will you say a good word for me to Azalea?"

"Why! haven't you asked her yet?"

"Only partly,—that is, she has only partly answered me."

"What did she say?"

"I don't quite know. She was,—well, Patty, she ran away from me."

"Oh, that's all right, then, that's a time-honoured device to postpone the psychological moment! Well, may I make the announcement at dinner?"

"No; I think not. For, though I couldn't help hoping, from the look in her eyes, that she cares for me,—yet she said—"

"What did she say?"

"Nothing coherent or understandable,—but—well, she didn't—she didn't say 'yes'."

"Oh, that's nothing,—she will. But I won't make the announcement till she tells me to. There's the dinner gong,—come on."

It wasn't until the others were seated at the table that Azalea come into the dining-room. She looked quite unlike her usual self, and was very quiet. Her face showed a pathetic, wistful expression, but her eyes were cast down, and now and then the corners of her scarlet mouth trembled.

Patty had arranged that she should sit next Van Reypen, and as Azalea took the place, she found Ray Gale on her other hand.

"'Smatter, Zaly?" he said, merrily, not thinking anything was really troubling her.

"Shell shock," said Van Reypen, to save Azalea the necessity of replying. "She's had a hard day of it, and now she's not to be bothered to talk, if she doesn't want to."

Azalea gave him a grateful look, and under the influence of his gentle kindliness, and mild raillery, she partly recovered her poise, and became almost like her own gay self again.

Much later in the evening, Van Reypen drew her away from the rest and led her to a secluded corner of the great piazza, where he had her alone.

"Now, my princess,—my beloved,—you are to tell me the answer to my plea. Tell me, Azalea,—may I take you to myself? Will you be my very own?"

"I can't say yes, Phil," she replied, softly, the tears gathering in her brown eyes. "I—oh, I thought I could tell you the truth,—but I can't,—I can't! I—I love you too much!"

"You've answered me!" cried Van Reypen, his eyes shining with gladness, "if you love me,—nothing else matters! And you can't love me 'too much'! I want all there is of your love,—your dear love! Is it really mine?"

"It's really yours, as far as it's in my power to give it,—but," and Azalea's face grew very sad, "I can't give it to you,—out of consideration of your rights. I can't love you, Philip, I mustn't let myself even think of it!"

"Don't talk nonsense, you blessed child,—you've settled it all when you say you love me! Oh, Azalea, I'm so glad, and proud and happy!"

Azalea gave a start as his arms closed round her. "No!" she cried, "no, dear, don't! oh, please don't!"

"Why, darling? Why mayn't I caress my own love,—my promised wife?"

"Oh, no,—I'm not! I can never be your wife! I'm—I'm not worthy!"

"Hush!" and Van Reypen closed her lips with a tender kiss. "Hush, Azalea, never use the words worthy or unworthy between us. Our love makes us worthy of each other, whatever we may be otherwise."

"Stop,—please stop! Every word you say makes it harder! I can't stand it! It's too dreadful. Let me go,—oh, please, let me go!"

Shuddering as with some great fear, Azalea slipped from his arms and ran away. He heard her steps as she went upstairs, and heard a door close,—evidently she had flown to her own room.

Greatly perplexed, Phil went in search of Patty.

"Help me out," he said, in a low tone. "Azalea has gone to her room, and there is certainly something troubling her. Go to her, Patty,—find out what it all means,—and if it is any foolishness about 'unworthiness' or that rubbish, try to make her see that I want her just as she is. I don't care a hang about her ancestors or her father or anything in the whole world, but just Azalea Thorpe!"

Patty looked at his earnest face, and honestly rejoiced that he had found a girl he could care for like that.

"I'll go, Phil," she said, "and I'll bring that young woman to reason! It isn't only coyness,—that isn't Azalea's way,—but she is honestly troubled about something."

But though Patty knocked on Azalea's locked door several times, she heard no response.

"Please let me in, Zaly," she begged, "I just want to talk to you a little."

Still no reply, and then, after exhausting all other arguments, Patty said, "Won't you let me in for Phil's sake? He sent me."

That succeeded, and reluctantly Azalea unlocked the door.

"Don't talk to me, Patty," she pleaded. "I'm in the depths of despair, but you can't help me. Nobody can help me,—and I can't even help myself."

"Who made all this trouble for you?" inquired Patty, casually, her never failing tact instructing her that Azalea would answer that better than protestations of affection.

"I made it myself,—but that doesn't make it any easier to bear."

"Indeed it doesn't," Patty agreed. "But, never mind, Zaly, if you heaped up a mound of trouble, let me help you to pull it down again."

"No; you can't," and Azalea looked at her dully.

"Oh, come now, let me try. Is it about your father?"

Azalea fairly jumped. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said," returned Patty, calmly. "You know, dear, you've made us think there's something queer about your father. Is he—has he done anything wrong?"

"No, Patty, goodness, gracious no! Mr. Thorpe is a most honoured and honourable man!"

"Now why does she call him Mr. Thorpe?" Patty wondered, but she only said;

"Oh, all right, forgive my suggestion. Why doesn't he write to you?"

"He—he?—oh, Patty, that's the trouble."

"Good! Now we're getting at it. How is that the trouble?"

"Shall I tell you everything?" and poor Azalea looked doubtful as to what to do.

"Yes, dear," Patty said, gently, fearing even yet that an ill-advised word would interrupt or prevent this long-deferred explanation.

"Well, you see,—oh, Patty,—I'm a wicked, deceitful girl—"

"Out with it," urged Patty, not greatly scared by this tragic beginning,—for Azalea was prone to exaggerate.

"I was home, you know, at Horner's Corners—"

A knock on the door was a most unwelcome interruption.

"Don't answer," Patty whispered, "it's Elise,—I heard her step."

But Elise was not so easily rebuffed. "Let me in," she called, "I know you're in there, Azalea,—you and Patty."

Patty went to the door, and opened it slightly. "Go away now, Elise, please," she said, "Azalea and I are having a little confidential chat."

"Not so confidential that I can't be in it too, is it?" and speaking lightly, Elise brushed past Patty and into the room.

"Why, Azalea," she exclaimed, "what is the matter? You look like a tragedy queen!"

For Azalea, annoyed at the intrusion, stood, hands clenched, and eyes scowling, and she said angrily, "I don't think people ought to come into other people's rooms, uninvited! I don't call that good manners!"

"You're not supposed to know what good manners are," said Elise, giving her a condescending look. "And even if you think you do,—don't try to teach me!"

"Oh, Elise," said Patty, reproachfully, "don't talk like that! It reflects on you even more than on Zaly."

"Oh, yes, stand up for her,—every one has gone mad over our 'heroine'! I call it disgraceful to be mixed up with that movie concern, and let me tell you, Azalea Thorpe, if you think Mr. Van Reypen is going to overlook or forget that, you're greatly mistaken! You know, Patty,—our Western friend here, is already aspiring toward Philip—"

"Hush, Elise," Patty returned, "better stop before you make a goose of yourself! Phil is aspiring to Azalea's favour, is the truer way to put it!"

"Oh, no, I can't believe that," laughed Elise, "Phil has too much self-respect!"

CHAPTER XVIII

PHILIP'S BROWNIE

At breakfast next morning Azalea's place was vacant.

"I didn't disturb her," said Patty, "for I want her to sleep late, if she can. She is such an active young person, she gets tired,—though she rarely admits it."

And then Janet came in. "Mrs. Farnsworth," she said, "Miss Thorpe is not in her room. Perhaps she has gone for one of her early morning walks. But on her dressing-table I found these two notes."

The maid handed Patty one of the letters and gave the other to Van Reypen. Both were addressed in Azalea's handwriting and the two who took them felt a sudden foreboding as to the contents.

Nor were their fears ill-founded. With an exclamation of dismay, Patty handed hers over to Farnsworth, who read it quickly, and looked at his wife with a serious face.

"Poor little Azalea," he said, "what can it all mean?"

For the note read:

DEAR PATTY:

I'm a wicked girl, and I can't impose on you any longer. I am going away. Don't try to find me,—just forget me. I love you all,—but I have no right to be among good people.

AZALEA.

"What's in yours, Phil?" Farnsworth asked, and Van Reypen handed it to him without a word.

MY DEAR MR. VAN REYPEN:

I can't go away without leaving a word for you. But it is only to say, please forget the girl who calls herself

AZALEA.

Then the notes were shown to the other two guests, Elise and Channing, for the departure of Azalea could not be kept secret, and of course they must immediately put forth every possible effort to find her.

"I always thought she was queer," said Elise, "but these notes are the queerest thing yet! Do you suppose she has eloped?"

"Hush, Elise," said Farnsworth, sternly. "I know you don't like Azalea, but I must ask you not to talk against her while you are under my roof. Whatever she is, she is my kin,—and I shall start at once in search of her, and learn the secret,—the mystery of her life. She has acted 'queer,' I freely admit it, but I, for one, believe she is all right and whatever is troubling her is not her fault or wrong-doing."

"Good for you, old man!" cried Philip, "I'm with you in your search.

We'll find her, of course. First, we must find out where she went."

This statement was so obvious and uttered so earnestly that Patty laughed.

"True, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," she said. "And just how shall we set about it?"

But Phil didn't laugh,—he answered her question seriously.

"First, Patty, you must question the servants, and see if any one saw her go. You know, she must have gone early this morning,—she couldn't have gone off in the night."

The result of the inquiry was that the cook, who was around early, had seen Azalea start away from the house at about six o'clock. She had not thought it strange at all, for Azalea often went for a long walk before breakfast. Cook said that Azalea wore a travelling suit and carried a fair-sized bag.

"So far, so good," said Phil; "next, Patty, will you go and look round her room? See what she took with her,—and see if she left any more notes."

"No notes," Patty said, on her return from this errand. "But she took all her jewellery and money, a house dress and a few toilet things. Janet and I could easily tell what was missing."

"Now," said Farnsworth, "first, why did she go, and second, where would she be likely to go?"

"Never mind the why and wherefore," returned Phil, "but, as you say, where would she probably go? Not over to the Gales', of course, that's too near home. I am ready to declare that she went to the moving-picture studios."

"Of course she did!" agreed Elise; "I think she's in love with that Merritt person—"

"Nonsense, Elise," laughed Channing; "she loves that man like a cat loves hot soap! I know better than that. But I think she may have gone over there to see Mrs. Bixby. That woman has been kind to Azalea, and I feel sure that's where she'd go."

"Then that's where I go," stated Van Reypen, rising from the table. "I daresay you're right, Chick. May I take the little roadster, Bill, and whiz over there and bring her back?"

"Go ahead, boy, and good luck to you."

But Farnsworth was not at all sanguine as to the bringing back of Azalea. He knew her, in some ways, far better than Van Reypen did, and he felt sure that when Azalea decided to go away, she would not be easily found.

But Van Reypen started cheerily off and went to the studios.

There he was met by blank disappointment. Mrs. Bixby was greatly interested in his story, and greatly concerned for Azalea's welfare, but she declared the girl had not come there.

Van Reypen was not quite sure she was telling him the truth, but his deep anxiety so stirred the motherly heart of Mrs. Bixby that she assured him earnestly that her statements were absolutely true, and that she was as anxious to find the missing girl as her friends were.

But she could offer no suggestion as to any way to look, and poor Philip went back, disheartened and disappointed.

All the morning they searched the grounds and the neighbourhood; they ransacked Azalea's belongings in hope of some old letter or clue of some sort. But nothing gave so much as a hint of anything that could have happened to her, that made her go away.

"I believe it's all your fault, Elise," said Van Reypen, angrily, for his alarm and sorrow made him forget his usual courtesy. "You've never liked Azalea, and you said mean things to her!"

"Now, Phil," remonstrated Patty, "don't talk like that. Elise and Azalea were not congenial, but Elise wouldn't do anything to make Azalea run away, and Azalea wouldn't run, if she did!"

This involved speech brought a laugh, but Philip went on; "I think she would. Azalea is more sensitive than you thought her. None of you understand her,—well, except Patty,—and her poor little heart was broken by your criticisms and continual reproofs. Suppose she isn't quite as well up in the airs and graces of society as you all are,—she has other traits that make up for that—"

"Oh, Philip, you're hopelessly in love with her!" and Elise laughed jeeringly.

"I am in love with her," he returned, "and I make no secret of it. But not hopelessly, Elise. I shall find her,—I don't know how or where, but I never will give up the quest until I succeed!"

"Good for you," cried Patty, "that's the way to talk! I'll help,—and though there's not any apparent way to look just now,—we'll find one."

It was about noon when Van Reypen was called to the telephone.

A strange but pleasant voice spoke to him, and asked him if he knew Alice Adams.

"No, I don't," said Phil, wonderingly.

"She knows you, and—well, I may be doing the wrong thing, but I wish you could come here."

"Where, please? and why should I come? I don't know Miss Adams,—I'm sure."

"She is a dark-haired girl, with big, brown eyes, and a Western way of speaking—"

"What? Has she just come to you? Does she wear a tan-coloured cloth suit,—and a hat with coque feathers?"

"Yes, she does! Now will you come?"

"Where? Who are you?—I mean, may I ask your name?"

"I am Miss Grayson,—a motion-picture actress—"

"Yes, yes,—where are you? Where shall I come?"

"To my home in New York City." She gave him the address. "You see, Miss Adams came here because she knows Miss Frawley,—we live together—but Miss Frawley is out of town,—and I persuaded Miss Adams to stay with me until her return. I can't make out the trouble, but I have learned the address of the Farnsworths and—oh, well, I may as well tell you, Miss Adams talked in her sleep. She arrived here utterly exhausted, and on the verge of nervous prostration. But, it may be, some sleep will set her nerves right, if the cause of the trouble can be removed. And,—I know I am intruding,—but I can't help thinking that it's a lovers' quarrel, and you can set it right!"

"You've guessed only part of it, Miss Grayson. It isn't a lovers' quarrel,—exactly,—but I can set it right! Will you promise to keep Miss—Adams there, until I can get there?"

"Yes, indeed. She's asleep yet,—but it's a broken slumber, and she murmurs constantly of you,—and of her other friends."

"Thank you a thousand times, I'll be there in an hour. Good-bye."

"Come along, Patty," Van Reypen cried, as he hung up the receiver, "come on, Bill! I've found her! She's assumed the name of Alice Adams,—and she's with a sweet-voiced lady named Grayson. Come on,—I'll tell you the rest as we go."

They didn't break the speed laws, as their car flew down to New York, but it was only because that would have meant delay in reaching their goal. About mid-afternoon they arrived at Miss Grayson's apartment and surprised Azalea by entering the room where she sat.

"You naughty girl!" cried Patty,—but as she noted Azalea's pale face and worried, harassed eyes, she just clasped her in her arms, with a little crooning murmur of affection.

"It's all right, whatever it is," she reassured, for Azalea turned big, frightened eyes on Farnsworth.

"You bet it's all right!" Philip cried, as he stepped eagerly forward.

With a tired little sigh, Azalea put her hand in his. "How did you find me?" she began, but Van Reypen said, "Never mind that, now. You just come back home with us,—and first thank Miss Grayson prettily for her kindness to you."

Miss Grayson, a pretty, round-faced girl, was greatly interested in the dramatic situation, and though she disclaimed any occasion for thanks, yet she very much wanted to know what it was all about.

"I already like Miss Adams too well to let her go entirely out of my life," she said, with spirit. "I claim my right to know a little about it."

"It is your right," said Farnsworth, "and first of all this runaway of ours is not Miss Adams, but Miss Thorpe."

"No," said Azalea, with an air of decision, "I'm not Miss Thorpe,—and I am Alice Adams."

"Flighty," said Farnsworth, "and no wonder. She's been under a good deal of nervous strain lately."

"No; I'm not flighty," persisted Azalea, who was entirely composed now, and who spoke firmly, though she was evidently controlling herself with an effort.

"And I'm going to confess now," she went on. "Now and here. Miss Grayson is so kind and dear I don't mind her knowing, and the rest of you must know. I must tell you,—I can't live if I don't."

"All right, Zaly, dear, tell us," and Patty sat beside her, and put a caressing hand on her arm.

"I am Alice Adams," Azalea said, "and I am not Azalea Thorpe at all,—and I never was."

"Oh!" said Farnsworth, beginning to see light.

"I am a wicked girl," the pathetic little voice went on. "I lived in Homer's Corners,—and I lived with the woman who keeps the post-office there. I've been an orphan since I was four, and this woman brought me up,—though it scarcely could be called that, for she only looked on me as her assistant in the office and in her house.

"Well, one day a letter came for Azalea Thorpe. Now, the Thorpes moved away from Horner's Corners two years ago, and we never knew their new address. The few letters that came for them were sent to the Dead Letter Office. This one would have been, but for the fact that it was unsealed.

"It had been sealed, but the envelope was all unstuck, and—I read the letter. I own up to it,—I know it was wrong,—but I didn't know then how wrong. You see, I wasn't taught much about honour and right. It is only since I have been with good people that I realise what an awful thing I did. When I read it, I couldn't help thinking what a pity for that wonderful invitation to her to make a visit in the East, to be wasted! And the more I thought, the more I was possessed of an idea that I might personate Azalea Thorpe and have the visit myself. Oh, if you knew how I hated the place where I lived,—how I hated the home I had,—how I wanted to get out into the great world, and have my chance! And, yes, I wanted to be a moving-picture actress. I was sure I could do better than the pictures I saw in that little town, and—well, the more I thought about it,—the more it seemed an easy and plausible thing to do.