Patty's Butterfly Days

"No; I'll let you get an unbiased first impression. Here's Janet, now DO get dressed."

Except on occasions of haste, or elaborate toilette, Patty preferred to dress herself, but she submitted to Janet's ministrations, and in a few minutes was hooked into a fresh morning dress of blue and white mull.

"On, Stanley, on!" she cried, catching Mona's hand, and dancing out into the hall. "Where is the Calamity?"

"Hush, she'll hear you! Her rooms are just over here. She told me to bring you."

As Patty afterward confided to Mona, she felt, when introduced to Mrs. Parsons, as if she were making the acquaintance of a ghost.

The little lady was so thin, so pale, and so generally ethereal looking, that it seemed as if a strong puff of wind would blow her away.

Her face was very white, her large eyes a pale blue, and her hair that ashen tint which comes when light hair turns grey. The hand she languidly held out to Patty was transparent, and so thin and limp that it felt like a glove full of small bones. Her voice was quite in keeping with her general air of fragility. It was high, thin and piping, and she spoke as if every word were a tax on her strength.

"How do you do, my dear?" she said, with a wan little smile at Patty. "How pretty you are! I used to be pretty, too; at least, so they told me." She gave a trilling little laugh, and Patty said, heartily, "I'm sure they were right; I approve their opinion."

This pleased Mrs. Parsons mightily, and she leaned back among her chair cushions with a satisfied air.

Patty felt a distinct liking for the little lady, but she wondered how she expected to perform a chaperon's duties for two vigorous, healthy young girls, much inclined to gaieties.

"I am not ill," Mrs. Parsons said, almost, it seemed, in answer to Patty's unspoken thought. "I am not very strong, and I can't stand hot weather. But I am really well,—though of a delicate constitution."

"Perhaps the sea air will make you stronger after a time," suggested Patty.

"Oh, I hope so; I hope so. But I fear not. However, I am trying a new treatment, combined with certain medicines, which I am sure will help my failing health. They tell me I am always trying new remedies. But, you see, the advertisements recommend them so highly that I feel sure they will cure me. And, then, they usually make me worse."

The little lady said this so pathetically that Patty felt sorry for her.

"But you have a doctor's advice, don't you?" she asked.

"No; I've no faith in doctors. One never knows what they put in their old prescriptions. Now when I buy one of these advertised medicines, they send me a lot of little books or circulars telling me all about it. This last treatment of mine sends more reading matter, I think, than any of the others, and their pamphlets are SO encouraging."

"But, Aunt Adelaide," broke in Mona, "if you're somewhat of an invalid, how did you come to promise father that you'd look after us girls this summer?"

"I'm not an invalid, my dear. I'm sure a few more weeks, or perhaps less, of this cure I am trying now will make me a strong, hearty woman."

Patty looked at the weak little creature, and concluded that if any medicine could make her strong and hearty, it must indeed be a cure-all.

"May I call you Aunt Adelaide, too?" she said, gently, for she wanted to be on the pleasantest possible terms with Mrs. Parsons, and hoped to be able to help her in some way.

"Yes, yes, my dear. I seem to take to you at once. I look upon you and Mona both as my nieces and my loved charges. I had a little daughter once, but she died in infancy. Had she lived, I think she would have looked like you. You are very pretty, my dear."

"You mustn't tell me so, Aunt Adelaide," said Patty, smiling at her.

"It isn't good chaperonage to make your girls vain."

"Mona is pretty, too," went on Mrs. Parsons, unheeding Patty's words.

"But of a different type. She hasn't your air of refinement,—of class."

"Oh, don't discuss us before each other," laughed Mona, good-naturedly. "And I'm jealous and envious enough of Patty already, without having those traits fostered."

"Yes," went on Aunt Adelaide, reminiscently, "my little girl had blue eyes and golden hair,—they said she looked like me. She was very pretty. Her father was a plain-looking man. Good as gold, Henry was, but plain looking. Not to say homely,—but just plain."

A faraway look came in the speaker's eyes, and she rambled on and on about her lost husband and daughter, until Patty looked at Mona questioningly.

"Yes, yes, Aunt Adelaide," Mona said, speaking briskly; "but now, don't you want to change your travelling gown for something lighter? And then will you lie down for a while, or come with us down to the west veranda? It is always cool there in the morning."

"No, I don't want to lie down. I'll join you girls very shortly. I suppose you have a maid for me, Mona? I shall need one for my exclusive service."

"Oh, yes, Auntie; you may have Lisette."

"Not if she's French. I can't abide a French maid."

"Well, she is,—partly. Then I'll give you Mary. She's a good American."

"Americans have no taste. Is there a Norwegian girl on the place? I had a Norwegian maid once, and she—"

"No, there isn't," said Mona, deeming it wise to cut short another string of reminiscences. "You try Mary, and if you don't like her, we'll see what we can do."

"Well—send her to me—and we'll see."

Mona rang for Mary, and then the two girls went down to the pleasant and cool veranda.

"It's lucky you have such shoals of servants," said Patty. "At our house, we couldn't give a guest a choice of nationalities."

"Oh, Patty, isn't she a terror?"

"Who, Mary?"

"No! Aunt Adelaide! It gives me the creeps to look at her. She's so slight and fragile, I expect to see her go to pieces like a soap bubble."

"She IS like a soap bubble, isn't she! But, Mona, you mustn't talk about her like that. I feel sorry for her, she looks so ill and weak. I think we ought to do all we can to cheer her up, and to restore her health and strength. I'm sure she's refined and dainty in her way."

"Yes, she's all of that. But I don't see how she can do the chaperon act."

"Oh, well, there isn't much to do. It's only the idea of having a matronly lady here to observe the proprieties."

"But I don't believe she can do that. I think she'll take to her bed soon. She ought to go to a good sanitarium."

"Nonsense, Mona, she isn't as ill as all that! Can't you see through her? She's the sort of lady who likes to fancy she's ill, and likes to try all sorts of quack medicines."

"Well, you can look after her, Patty; you seem to understand her so well."

"All right, I will. Hush, here she comes."

Mrs. Parsons came slowly out to the veranda. She was followed by Mary, carrying a fan, a light wrap, a book, a thermometer, and a glass of lemonade.

"Sit here, won't you, Aunt Adelaide?" said Mona, politely offering a comfortable wicker chair.

"I'll try this, my dear, but I fear it's too low for me. Can you get another cushion or two?"

Mona went for more cushions, and then Aunt Adelaide had to have the chair moved, for fear of a possible draught,—though there wasn't a breath of wind stirring. Then a table must be moved nearer for the book and the lemonade, and the thermometer placed where it would get neither sun nor wind.

"I ALWAYS keep a thermometer near me," she explained, "and I always bring my own, for otherwise I can't feel sure they are accurate."

Mrs. Parsons wore a dress of light grey lawn. Though cool looking, it was unbecoming, for it had no touch of black or white to relieve its monotony, and on the colourless lady it had a very dull effect. But, though languid, Aunt Adelaide was quite able to give orders for what she wanted. She sent Mary for another book, and for more sugar for her lemonade. Then she fidgeted because a stray sunbeam came too near her.

"Mary," she said, petulantly. "Oh, I sent Mary away, didn't I? How long she's gone! Mona, can't you find a screen somewhere to shade that sun a little?"

"There are screens to roll down from the veranda roof, Aunt Adelaide; but it is so shady here, and they cut off the breeze so. However, if you want them down–"

"I certainly do," said the lady, and as Mary returned then, she lowered the rattan blinds.

But they were no sooner down than Aunt Adelaide wanted them up again, and when at last she became settled in comfort, she asked Mona to read aloud to her.

"Please excuse me," said Mona, who was thoroughly annoyed at the fussing and fidgeting ways of her aunt, "I am a very poor reader."

"I can read fairly well," said Patty, good-naturedly. "Let me try."

She picked up Mrs. Parson's book, secretly amused to find that its title was "The Higher Health," and she began to read as well as she could, and Patty really read very well.

"Don't go so fast," commanded her hearer; "valuable information like this must be read slowly, with intervals for thought." But when Patty provided pauses for thought, Aunt Adelaide said, petulantly, "Go on, do; what are you waiting for?"

At last, Patty purposely let her voice grow monotonous and low, and then, as she had hoped, Aunt Adelaide dropped into a doze.

Seeing that she was really asleep, Patty beckoned to Mona, and the two girls slipped away, leaving Mary in charge.

"Oh, Patty!" cried Mona, as soon as they were out of hearing. "Isn't it awful! How CAN we stand having such a horrid old fusser around?"

"Whoopee! Mona! moderate your language! Mrs. Parsons isn't so very old, and she isn't horrid. If she's a fusser, that's just her way, and we must politely submit to it."

"Submit, nothing! If you think, Patty Fairfield, that I'm going to be taken care of by that worry-cat, you're greatly mistaken!"

"Stop, Mona! I won't let you call her such names; it isn't nice!"

"She isn't nice, either!"

"She's your aunt, and your guest; and you must treat her with proper respect. She isn't an old lady; I don't believe she's fifty. And she IS ill, and that makes her querulous." "Well, do you want to wait on her, and read to her, and put up with her fussiness all summer?"

"It doesn't matter whether we want to or not. We have to do it. Your father sent for her, and she's here. You can't send her away."

"I suppose that's so. But, oh, Patty, how I do dislike her! She's changed so. When I saw her some years ago, she was sweet and gentle, but not so fidgety and self-centred."

"You were so young then, Mona. You probably thought little about her character. And, too, her ill health has come, and that has undoubtedly ruffled her disposition."

"Well, she'll ruffle mine, if she stays here long."

"Of course she'll stay here, and we must make the best of it. Perhaps we can train her to be a little less exacting. And then, too, you can arrange to have the servants wait on her. You needn't do it yourself, always."

"Patty, you're a great comfort. If anybody can train that woman, you can. So please try, for as you say, she'll have to stay, I suppose, until father comes home. Just think, she's father's own sister! But she isn't a bit like him. Dad isn't fussy at all."

"No, your father is of a lovely disposition. And so kind and indulgent to you, Mona."

"Yes; Dad is a darling. But we don't seem to get into the best society, as he expected, when he built this big house. I wonder why."

"Don't bother about that now," said Patty, who was going to talk to Mona some time on that very subject, but was not ready yet. "Now, as to Aunt Adelaide, for I may as well call her that since she wishes it. I think, Mona, the only way to manage her is to be always kind and sweet to her, but not to let her impose upon us. I can see she is rather exacting, and if we always give in to her whims, she will always expect it. So let's start out, as we mean to continue. I'll read to her occasionally, but I can't always be at her beck and call. Perhaps Janet can do it."

"Yes, Janet is a good reader. But, of course, Aunt Adelaide would find fault with her reading, as she did with yours."

"Yes, I expect that's her nature. But she'll be easy enough to get along with, if we all play fair. We'll have to give and take. And don't judge her by this morning. She was tired and worn, and, as yet, unused to her new surroundings. She'll feel more at home to-morrow."

"She can't ACT more at home! Well, I'll give her a trial, Patty, but I warn you, if she DOESN'T get placider, I'll suit myself with another chaperon, that's what I'll do!"

The girls did not see their visitor again until luncheon time, and then it was the same situation repeated. But few of the viands served at table were acceptable to Aunt Adelaide. She provided the butler with certain "health foods" of her own, and gave him elaborate instructions for preparing them, and then found much fault with the results of his labours. Patty had to laugh when Mrs. Parsons tasted, critically, a dish the butler anxiously offered.

"You've cooked it too much!" she exclaimed; "or, no,—you've not cooked it enough! I can scarcely tell WHICH it is,—but it isn't RIGHT!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," said the surprised James. "Shall I cook another portion?"

"No," said Mrs. Parsons, resignedly. "I'll make out with this, though it is very distasteful."

As she had really eaten a hearty luncheon, Mona said only, "I am sorry, Aunt Adelaide; but perhaps you will enjoy the ice cream." At which she brightened perceptibly, saying:

"Yes, ice cream is my favourite dessert, and I hope, Mona, you will have it often."

After luncheon the visitor departed for her own rooms, saying, "I hope, my dears, you will excuse me now. I always take a nap at this hour, and as it is so warm I will not reappear until about dinner time."

"Very well, Aunt Adelaide," said Mona, greatly pleased at the plan. "Ring for Mary when you want her. Patty and I are going out this afternoon, so we'll all meet at dinner time."

"Yes, my dear. And will you please order iced tea sent to me at four o'clock, and have the house kept as quiet as possible during my nap hour?"

CHAPTER VII

A GARDEN PARTY

During the afternoon, an ocean breeze had the politeness to arrive on the scene, and it was pleasantly cool when the girls started for the garden party.

"Let's walk," said Patty, when Mona proposed the motor-car. "It's not far, and its lovely and cool now."

So the two girls strolled along the boardwalk, and then turned inland toward the Sayres' place.

Patty wore a white, lacy, frilly frock, with touches of pale yellow ribbon here and there. Her hat was of the broad-leafed, flapping variety, circled with a wreath of yellow flowers. Patty could wear any colour, and the dainty, cool-looking costume was very becoming.

Mona looked very well in light green chiffon, but she hadn't Patty's liking for simplicity of detail, and her heavy satin sash and profusion of jingling ornaments detracted from the airiness of her light gown. Her hat was of triangular shape, with a green cockade, and perched jauntily on her befrizzed hair, gave her a somewhat stunning effect.

"You'd look a lot better, Mona," said Patty, straightforwardly, "if you didn't curl your hair so tightly."

"That's all very well for you to say," returned Mona, a little pettishly, "for your hair is naturally curly, and you don't have to use hot tongs."

"Some day I'll show you how to wave it more loosely; it'll be prettier than those kinky frizzes."

"Well, these won't last long. The curl comes out of my hair as soon as it's in. And it leaves straight wisps sticking out all over."

"That's just it. To-morrow I'll show you a wiser and a better plan of curling it."

"I wish you would, Patty. There are lots of things I want you to advise me about, if you will."

This showed an unusually docile spirit in Mona, and Patty began to think that she might help the girl in many ways during their stay together.

They turned in at the Sayres' beautiful home, and found the grounds gaily decked for the garden party. Bunting and banners of various nations were streaming here and there. Huge Japanese umbrellas shaded rustic settees, and gay little tents dotted the lawn.

The girls went to the veranda, where Mrs. Sayre and her two daughters were receiving their guests. There they were introduced to several out-of-town visitors who were staying with the Sayres.

Captain Sayre, in a most impressive looking white uniform, asked Patty to walk round the grounds with him.

"For," said he, as they strolled away, "there's nothing to do at a garden party BUT walk round the grounds, is there?"

"Indeed there is!" cried Patty. "There's lots to do. There's tennis and croquet and quoits and other games I see already."

"Too hot for such things," declared the captain.

"Then, these tents all about, have interesting inhabitants. There's a fortune teller in one, I know."

"Fortune tellers are never interesting. They just make up a lot of stuff with no sense to it."

"But lots of things with no sense to them are interesting," laughed Patty. "I begin to think, Captain Sayre, that you're blase. I never met any one before who was really blase. Do tell me how it feels."

"Nonsense, child, you're poking fun at me. I'm not blase at all."

Captain Sayre was not more than five or six years older than Patty, but he had the air of a man of the world, while Patty's greatest charm was her simple, unsophisticated manner.

"I wish you were," she said, a little regretfully; "all the boys I know are nice, enthusiastic young people, like myself, and I'd like some one to be different, just for a change."

"Well, I can't. I assure you, I'm both nice and enthusiastic, if not so awfully young."

Patty smiled up at him. "Prove it," she said, gaily.

"All right, I'll prove it by poking an inquisitive nose into every tent on the place. Come on."

They went the rounds of the gay little festival, and so vivacious and entertaining did the captain prove, that Patty confessed frankly that she had misjudged him.

"You're NOT blase," she declared. "I never saw any one less so. If you fight with as much energy as you enjoy yourself you must be a fine soldier indeed!"

"Oh, I am!" returned the captain, laughing. "I'm one of Uncle Sam's noblest heroes! He hasn't realised it yet, because I've not had a real good chance to prove it, but I shall, some day."

"Perhaps you could show other people, without waiting for Uncle Sam's turn."

A slight earnestness in Patty's tone made Captain Sayre look at her quickly.

"I'll show you now," he said. "Give me chance for a brave, heroic deed, and watch me hit it off!"

"I will!" said Patty, with twinkling eyes. "But it's Secret Service. I mean Sealed Orders. I'll lead you to it, but you may 'hit it off' without realising it."

"Lead on, fair lady! From now, you are my superior officer."

But Patty turned the subject then, and the pair went gaily on, stopping often to chat with groups of young people, or to admire some decorations.

At last, Patty adroitly managed that they should pause near Mona, who stood talking with Lora Sayre and Jack Pennington. Patty's quick eyes saw that Mona was ill at ease, and that the others were including her in their conversation merely through a perfunctory politeness.

Patty, with her captain in tow, went up to the trio, and all joined in merry chatter. Then soon, with a gay, challenging glance at him, Patty said:

"Now Captain Sayre, you have the opportunity you wanted, to ask Miss Galbraith to go with you to the fortune teller's tent."

For a brief instant the young man looked dumfounded, but immediately recovering himself, he turned to Mona and said, gracefully:

"Miss Fairfield has told you of the secret hope I cherish; will you grant it, Miss Galbraith?"

Mona, flattered, and a little flustered at this attention, consented, and the two walked away together.

Jack Pennington gave Patty an understanding glance, but Lora Sayre said, "How funny for Edgar to do that!" Then realising the impolite implication, she added, "He's so infatuated with you, Patty. I'm surprised to see him leave you."

"Soldier men are very fickle," said Patty, assuming a mock woe-begone expression; "but your cousin is a most interesting man, Lora."

"Yes, indeed; Edgar is splendid. He has lived in the Philippines and other queer places, and he tells such funny stories. He is most entertaining. But I see mother beckoning to me; I must go and see what she wants."

Lora ran away, and Jack Pennington remained with Patty.

"You're a brick!" he exclaimed; "to dispose of that marvellous military model, just so you could play with me!"

"That wasn't my only motive," said Patty, gazing after the captain and Mona—as they stood at the door of the fortune teller's tent. "He is such a charming man, I wanted to share him with my friend."

"H'm—you say that to tease me, I suppose. But I remember, before he arrived on the scene, you thought ME such a charming man that you wanted to share ME with your friend."

"Oh, yes," agreed Patty, lightly, "and you promised that you'd BE shared. So don't forget it!"

"As if I'd EVER forget anything YOU say to me! By the way, Mona says she's going to have a house party. What do you s'pose it'll be like?"

"I s'pose it'll be lovely. She hasn't talked to me about it yet, for we really haven't had time. The new chaperon came to-day."

"Is she a veritable Dragon? Won't she let you girls do anything?"

Patty laughed. "I don't think DRAGON exactly describes her. And she hasn't denied us anything as yet. But then, she only came this morning."

"I shall call soon, and make friends with her. I'm always liked by chaperons."

"Yes, Mrs. Hastings, for example," said Patty, laughing at the recollection of the night before.

"Oh, all chaperons look alike to me," said Jack. "Now, let's go over and hear the band play."

Across the garden, a fine orchestra was making music, and Patty hummed in tune, as they strolled over the lawns. As they neared a group of young people who were eagerly chatting, Guy Martin called out, "Come on, you two, you're just the ones we want."

"WHAT for?" queried Jack.

"To help plan the Pageant. You'll be in it, won't you, Patty? It's for charity, you know."

"I can't promise until I know more about it. What would I have to do?"

"Oh, you have to be part of a float. Stand on a high, wabbly pedestal, you know, and wave your arms about like a classic marble figure."

"But I never saw a classic marble figure wave her arms about," objected Patty; "indeed, the most classic ones don't have arms to wave. Look at the Milo Venus."

"I can't look at her, she isn't here. But I look at you, and I see you're just the one for 'The Spirit of the Sea.' Isn't she, Lora?"

But Lora Sayre had set her heart on that part for herself, so she said, in a half-absent way, "Yes, I think so."

"You THINK so!" put in Jack Pennington. "I KNOW so! Patty would make a perfect 'Spirit of the Sea.' I vote for her!"

"I'm not a candidate," said Patty, who had divined Lora's wish. "I won't agree to take any special part until I know more about the whole thing."

"Well, you'll soon know all about it," went on Guy. "We're going to have a meeting soon to arrange for the parts, and plan everything."

"Have that meeting at our house, won't you?" asked Patty, suddenly. "I mean at 'Red Chimneys.' Won't you all meet there?"

"Why, yes," said Guy. "We'll be very glad to. I tell you, there's lots to be done."

Patty had made her suggestion because she knew that if the committee met at "Red Chimneys," they couldn't help giving Mona a good part in the Pageant, and if not, she couldn't feel sure what might happen.

But Lora didn't look satisfied. "I thought you'd meet here," she said, "because mother is chairman of the Float Committee."

"I know," returned Guy, "but, for that very reason, she'll have to have a lot of other meetings here. And as I'm supposed to look after the Sea Float, I thought it a kindness to your mother to have our meetings elsewhere."

"Oh, I don't care," said Lora, "have them where you like."

Lora turned to speak to some people passing, and then walked away with them.

"Now SHE'S mad!" commented Jack. "That's the beautiful part of getting up a show; all the girls get mad, one after another."