Patty in Paris

Rosamond Barstow was a girl who never hesitated to get what she wanted if possible, and now it suited her purpose to dismiss the French maids; in her voluble if somewhat imperfect French, she told them that the young ladies wished to be alone for a time and would ring for the maids later.

"I just HAD to talk to you girls alone for a minute," she exclaimed, "or I should have exploded. Did you EVER see such a gorgeous castle in this world? I didn't know your old Ma'amselle lived like this! How shall we ever live up to it?"

"I didn't know she lived like this, either," said Patty, laughing at Rosamond's expressions; "and I don't care whether we can live up to it or not. We'll put on our best frocks and our best manners, and that's all we can do. But, oh girls, I feel like a princess in this room!"

"Then just come and look at mine," cried Elise, who was in the next apartment.

The girls had been given rooms near each other and which, with their anterooms and dressing-rooms, filled up the whole of a large wing of the chateau.

Patty's, as she expressed it to the other girls, looked more like a very large cretonne shirtwaist box than anything else. For the walls and ceiling were covered with a chintz tapestry; the lambrequins, window curtains and door hangings were all of the same material and pattern, and the bed itself was draped and heavily curtained with the same. The bed curtains and window curtains were fastened back with huge rosettes of the chintz, and Patty remarked that it must have been brought by the acre.

The furniture was of the quaintest old French pattern, and so old-fashioned and unusual were the appointments all about, that Patty knew neither the names nor the use of many of them.

"I'd rather sleep in a "cosy-corner" than in that bed," remarked Rosamond; "I know that whole affair will tumble on your head in the night. It's perfectly gorgeous to look at, but seems to me these old things are 'most too old. If I were Ma'amselle I'd root them all out and refurnish."

"You'd be sent home if Ma'amselle heard you talk like that," admonished Patty, "and I'm not a bit afraid of that tent arrangement tumbling down. It's most picturesque, and I shall lie in it, feeling like a retired empress."

"Come, Rosamond," said Elise, "call back those comic opera maids you sent away, and let's get dressed. We mustn't keep Ma'amselle waiting, though I'd ever so much rather perch up here and talk by ourselves. But she's a dear old lady, and we must do our part as well as she does hers."

So Rosamond rang and the maids came back, wondering what strange young demoiselles they had to wait upon now.

Patty allowed herself to be dressed by the deft-fingered maid, and being ready first, stepped out on the little balcony opening from her window to wait for the others.

A beautiful view met her eye. The lawn was terraced in many slopes, and the flower-beds and shrubberies, though arranged with French precision, formed a beautiful landscape. There were fountains playing, and here and there arbours and trellises and pleasant paths.

But the girls called to her, and Patty joined them, and twining their arms about each other's waists, they walked down the broad staircase.

They were all in white, and their pretty frocks and dainty slippers made a modern note that contrasted strangely but pleasantly with the antique relics and ancient atmosphere of the chateau.

When they reached the great hall, a footman ushered them into the grand drawing-room where they were to await Ma'amselle.

She soon appeared, resplendent in her old-time grandeur, and going to greet her, the girls kissed her hand, an old custom which greatly pleased their hostess.

"But it is of a joy to see you!" she exclaimed. "Me, I am so much alone. It is not good to be alone, and yet, it is my choice. I stay in the home of my ancestors, therefore I stay alone. Voila!" she shrugged her shoulders, as if to emphasise the fact that it was more joy to live alone in the old chateau than to be anywhere else.

"But I am not always alone," she went on; "no, it is that my Henri, my nephew, comes to me at occasion. And he comes soon. Jour de l'an always brings him. He spends the day with me. He makes me a pleasure. And you shall see him, you young ladies. Ah, how he is beautiful!" The old lady clasped her hands and turned her gaze upward, and the girls were fain to believe that her nephew was indeed a wonderful specimen of humanity.

Then the dinner was announced, and leaning on the arm of an old footman, who was quite as dignified as she was herself, Ma'amselle led the way to the dining-room.

The table appointments, Patty thought, would have done justice to any of the most celebrated characters in French history, had they been there to enjoy them.

Although not exactly embarrassed, the girls were a little bit awed at splendour so unusual to them. To Rosamond it seemed distinctly humorous that three such young American girls should be honoured guests in such a regal household; to Elise it seemed extremely interesting, and the novelty and strangeness of it all impressed her more than the grandeur.

But Patty, with her usual quick ability to accept a situation, seemed to take everything for granted, and made herself quite at home. The wonderfully garbed footmen who stood behind their chairs like statues, except when they were wound up, nearly made Rosamond giggle; but to Patty, they were merely part of the performance, and once accepted as such, of course, they belonged in the picture.

This readiness to adapt herself to any circumstances was inherent in Patty's nature, and she sat there and conversed with her hostess as charmingly and naturally as if at a plainer board.

Rosamond was much impressed by what she chose to consider Patty's "nerve," and determining not to be outdone, she exerted herself to be bright and entertaining, and as Elise was always more or less of a chatterbox, the three girls provided much entertainment, and their hostess was delighted with her congenial guests.

After the rather lengthy dinner was at an end, the old Ma'amselle took the girls through various apartments, and showed them many of the treasures of the Chateau.

Then they went to the music room and Patty was persuaded to sing.

She sang several songs, and then they all sang choruses together, in some of which the old Ma'amselle joined with her thin but still sweet voice.

"And now," she said at last, "it is to tear the heart—but I must send you babies to bed. Me, I sleep so badly, but you young girls, of a surety, must have the tranquil rest. It is then 'Bon Soir,' and in the morning you are to amuse yourselves. You have but to ring for your chocolate, when you awake, and then pursue your own pleasures until noon, when I will meet you at dejeuner."

After affectionate good-nights, the girls went to their rooms, and a half hour later, wrapped in kimonos and with their long braids hanging down their backs, they were all perched on Patty's big bed—alone at last.

"But it is of a gorgeousness," exclaimed Rosamond, mimicking, but not unkindly, the old Ma'amselle's imperfect English; "me, I never have so many feetmen at home! Is it that you do, Patty?"

"But I like it all," exclaimed Patty, giggling at comical Rosamond, but standing up for her own opinions; "of course I'm not envious a mite, and I don't know even as I'd care to live in this way all the time, but it's lovely for a few days, and I'm just going to pretend I'm La Grande Mademoiselle."

"Do," cried Elise, "and I'll be Empress Josephine. Who'll you be, Rosamond?"

"Oh, I'll be Queen Elizabeth, who has come to visit you. There's nothing French about me, so there's no use pretending, but I might be an English Queen."

"Well, Josephine and Elizabeth, you'd better run to bed now," said Patty, "for I'd like the exclusive occupancy of this upholstered tennis-court myself."

Amazed to find that it was after midnight, the other girls ran laughing away, and Patty climbed in behind the chintz curtains, almost persuading herself that she was a royal Princess after all.

Next morning the Queen and the Empress came bounding in, and shook La Grande Mademoiselle till she awoke.

"This bed is the biggest," announced Queen Elizabeth, "and so we're all going to have our chocolate in here."

"Well, I like the way you monopolise my apartments!" exclaimed Patty.

"I'm glad you like it," said Rosamond; "but we'd come just the same if you didn't. Now stop your giggling, while I ring the bell, and see what happens."

A dainty French waitress answered the summons, and smilingly asked for orders.

Patty modestly asked for chocolate and rolls for them all, but the French maid volunteered the information that Ma'amselle was of the opinion that the young ladies would like an omelette, and perhaps a jar of marmalade.

"Heavenly!" exclaimed Rosamond, rolling her eyes in ecstacy, and the waitress departed on her errand.

"This is the jolliest picnic yet," declared Elise, a little later as she sat, propped up by pillows, in a corner of the big chintz tent, and devoured flaky hot rolls and apricot marmalade.

The girls were each in a corner of the great bed, which left ample room in the centre for the tray full of good things, and though perhaps an unusual place for a picnic, it was a most hilarious festivity.

CHAPTER XVI

AN EXPECTED GUEST

The three girls spent a delightful morning exploring the old Chateau, and its park and garden. The clear air was brisk and keen, and a few hours out of doors sent them back into the house with rosy cheeks and bright eyes.

They discovered a delightful room that they had not seen before, which was built out from one of the wings, and whose walls and ceiling were entirely of glass.

"This is something like your room at home, Elise," said Patty, as they seated themselves there.

"Not very much; my room is glass, to be sure, but it's square, and this circular apartment is quite a different matter. And did you ever see such exquisite furniture? I can quite believe myself an Empress when I sit gracefully on this gilded blue satin sofa."

"I'm glad you think you're sitting gracefully," said Rosamond, laughing at Elise, who, in her favourite position, had one foot tucked up under her.

"I don't care," said Elise. "Probably Josephine would have liked to sit on her foot, only she didn't dare."

"Her empire would have tottered if she had done such a thing as that," observed Patty, "but as it tottered anyway, she might as well have sat as she pleased."

Ma'amselle joined the young people at luncheon time, and although she called it breakfast, the repast was quite as elaborate and formal in its way as dinner had been. But the girls brought to it three healthy young appetites, that did full justice to the exquisite viands set before them.

At the table, Ma'amselle announced to the girls her plans for their entertainment.

It seemed that she expected her nephew that evening, to spend a few days, and as the next day would be the great festival of New Year's Day, she had planned a celebration of the event.

So she proposed that except for a short automobile drive that afternoon the girls should rest and keep themselves fresh for dinner-time, when she expected the arrival of her paragon of a nephew.

From her description of the young man, the girls were led to think that he must be a sort of fairy prince in disguise,—and not very much disguised, either.

So in the afternoon the three girls and Ma'amselle went for a drive in one of the great touring cars, of which Ma'amselle had several.

Patty begged to be allowed to sit in front with the chauffeur, and rather astonished that impassive factotum by asking to be allowed to drive.

He was very much disinclined to grant her request, lest it should displease the old Ma'amselle, of whom all her servants stood greatly in awe; but when Patty appealed to her hostess, and received a not very willing permission, the chauffeur allowed her to change seats with him, and really drive the car.

He was greatly surprised at Patty's skill, and became more than ever convinced that Americans were a strange race.

Their route lay past the railway station and along the beautiful terrace which skirts the forest of St. Germain on one side, and commands such a marvellous view of the valley and the Seine.

Returning home, the girls were left to their own devices until dinner-time, when they were adjured to array themselves appropriately to do homage with the wonderful Henri.

"Henri must be something out of the ordinary," declared Elise, when the girls were alone.

"Probably not," said Patty; "only Ma'amselle thinks him so."

"At any rate I'm anxious to see him," declared Elise, "for I don't know any real live French boy except that Pauvret who was on the steamer, and he was too lackadaisical for any use."

"Well, I don't apprehend M'sieu Henri will be much better," said Patty; "I don't care much about Frenchmen, anyway. What are you going to wear, girls?"

"I shall wear my red chifon," said Rosamond; "it's most becoming to me; I'm a perfect dream in it, and I shall quite cut out you other girls with our foreign prince."

"Pooh!" said Elise; "he won't look at you when he sees me in my white tulle. I'm the Frenchiest thing in that you ever saw!"

"Oh girls," cried Patty, "I'm going to wear my light blue crepe de chine. And then we'll be red, white and blue! Won't that be a graceful compliment to the French colours, as well as to our own dear flag!"

"Long may it wave!" cried Rosamond, and then following Patty's lead, the girls sang the "Star Spangled Banner" with true American heartiness and patriotism. This they followed up with the "Marseillaise," in which they were interrupted by the appearance of one of the maids in a great state of excitement.

In breathless haste, which made her French difficult for them to understand, she explained that Ma'amselle had had a telegram of dreadful import, and would the young ladies attend upon her at once.

The maid ushered the wondering girls to Ma'amselle's apartments and found her in her dressing-room, in the hands of her maid, who was assisting her in a hasty toilette.

The tears were rolling down the old lady's cheeks, and she seemed to be in a state of trembling agitation.

"Ah, mes enfants" she cried, "but it is news of the most dreadful! Mon Henri, my well-beloved nephew,—his arm,—it is broken! Ah the sadness for the poor boy. Me, I fly to him at once,—but at once! You, but you will excuse me, you will forgive, because of the dear boy! I go to Paris, but I return, bringing my boy with me."

It was rather a mixed-up explanation, but the girls finally gathered that Henri had had the misfortune to break his arm, and had sent for his aunt to come to Paris and spend the New Year Day with him instead of taking his intended trip to St. Germain.

Henri had not known that his aunt had the young ladies visiting her, and so had no idea that he was disarranging her plans to such an extent.

"He can come!" she exclaimed; "bah, it is not his legs; it is but his arm. Of a certainty, one does not walk on one's arm! But the dear boy! I shall go to him and explain all. Then we will return, and there shall be feasting and happiness. A broken arm is not so much,—it will mend,—but to him I must fly!"

Patty endeavoured to find out definitely the old lady's plan, but she could only gather that there was no time to be lost, that Ma'amselle must catch the seven o'clock train.

To be sure of this, she must leave the house at half-past six.

And so she started, in her swift touring car, accompanied by her maid and a groom, in addition to her capable and trusty chauffeur.

Away they went, and the girls returned to the drawing-room to consider the situation.

"It was all over so quickly," said Patty, "that I hardly know whether I'm on my head or my heels. What a whirlwind Ma'amselle is!"

"Yes, she flew around like a hen with its head off, or whatever French hens do," said Rosamond; "if she whisks that broken-armed boy home as fast as she whisked herself off they'll be here in a minute."

"She can't," said the practical Elise. "If she takes that seven o'clock train, she won't get to Paris until nearly eight, and then, I don't know where the interesting invalid lives, but anyway, to kidnap him and get back here again is a matter of several hours. I don't expect to see them before midnight."

"What shall we do?" said Patty; "shall we have our dinner?"

"I don't believe we'll have any say in the matter," volunteered Elise. "I think that waxwork butler, and the 'feetmen,' as Rosamond calls them, will arrange our lives for us, and we'll be simply under orders."

"What an exciting experience," exclaimed Patty; "to think of us three American girls, alone except for the servants, in a gorgeous old French Chateau! I feel as if I must do something to live up to my privileges."

"Suppose anything should happen that Ma'amselle never came back," suggested Rosamond; "we could take possession of the place and live here forever."

"I don't think much of that plan," declared Patty; "New York is good enough for me, as a permanent residence. But I do want to do somethink in keeping with the atmosphere of this place. If there's a dungeon keep on the premises, I think I'll throw you two girls into it, after having first bound you in chains."

"You mean a donjon keep, Patty," said Elise; "you're so careless with your mediaeval diction."

A noise in the hall, as of an arrival, startled the girls, and rising impulsively, they flew out to see what it was all about.

To their astonishment, they found the footmen holding open the great front doors, while three stalwart young men entered.

The middle one, who was partly supported by the other two, had his arm in a sling, and as he was undoubtedly a Frenchman, the girls were sure at once that he was no other than the worshipful Henri.

At sight of the three astonished girls the three young men looked equally amazed, and whipping off their caps, they made profound bows to the strangers.

It was a comical situation, for doubtless Henri had expected to see his aunt, and was instead confronted by three unmistakably American misses.

Of the six, quick-witted Patty grasped the situation first.

"You are Monsieur Henri Labesse, is it not so?" she said, advancing toward the broken-armed one.

In her haste and bewilderment, Patty spoke in English, forgetting that the young man might not understand her native tongue.

But he answered in English quite as good as her own, though with a decided French accent, "Yes, Mademoiselle, I am Henri Labesse. I make you my homage, These are my two friends, Cecil Villere and Philippe Baring."

"We are glad to welcome you," said Patty, in her pretty, frank way; "these are my friends, Mademoiselle Farrington and Mademoiselle Barstow. We are guests of your aunt."

"Ah, my aunt!" said Henri, as the other boys acknowledged the introductions, "where is she? Did she not get my telegram?"

"She did, indeed," returned Patty, smiling, "and she went flying off to Paris."

"But my second telegram; I wired again, saying I would come here."

"No, she did not get your second telegram,—only the first one announcing your accident."

"And she has gone! oh how dreadful! but can we not stop her? Let us send post haste after her."

"It's no use," said Elise; "she has been gone about ten minutes, and in her fast car she is now more than half way to the station."

"Did you boys come in an automobile?" asked Patty.

"No," replied Mr. Villere; "we came in a rickety old cab from the station, and it has gone back."

Patty's thoughts were flying rapidly. It seemed dreadful to let the old Ma'amselle go to Paris on a wild-goose chase, when if she could but be stopped, and brought back home, it would save the long and troublesome journey and be a delight to them all.

She not only thought quickly, but she determined to act quickly.

"Can either of you boys drive an automobile?" she demanded of the two uninjured guests.

With voluble lamentations the two confessed their inability in that direction.

"Elise," cried Patty, turning upon her a look, which Elise well knew demanded implicit obedience, "you stay right here and play you're the hostess of this Chateau, and see that you do it properly. Rosamond, you come with me!"

Without a further glance at the astonished young men, without a word to the pompous butler who was hovering in the background, Patty grasped Rosamond by the arm and pulled her away with her.

CHAPTER XVII

A MOTOR RIDE

Bareheaded, and still dragging the astonished Rosamond, Patty rushed outdoors, into the gathering dusk, and down toward the stables.

Confronting an astonished groom, she asked him in forcible, if not entirely correct French, whether there was an assistant chauffeur, or any groom who could run a motor car.

She was informed that there was not, that Ma'amselle's chauffeur himself and the groom who had accompanied him were the only ones in the establishment who knew anything about automobiles. If Mademoiselle desired a coach, now?

But Mademoiselle did not desire a coach, and, moreover, Mademoiselle seemed to know perfectly well what she did desire.

Beckoning to the groom, who followed her, she went straight to the garage where the automobiles were kept. There was a touring car there, almost the same as the one she had driven that afternoon, and Patty looked at it uncertainly.

There was also a small runabout, but that was of a different make, of which she knew nothing.

"Get in," she said briefly to the groom, and she pointed to the tonneau.

Accustomed to implicit obedience, the groom got in, hatless as he was, and folding his arms stiffly, sat up as straight as if it were a most usual experience.

"Hop up in front, Rosamond," went on Patty, "and don't try to stop me, for I'm going to do exactly this; I'm going to the station and catch Ma'amselle before she gets on that seven o'clock train. There isn't one-half second to spare; we can't even get our hats, and if we should stop to talk it over with anybody, there'd be no use in going at all. Now hush up, Rosamond, don't say a word to me, I've all I can do to manage this thing!"

As Rosamond hadn't said a word, Patty need not have insisted on her silence. But Patty was so excited that it made her quick of speech and a little uncertain of temper.

She started slowly out of the garage, trying to remember exactly the instructions she had so often received about starting. They went safely out into the park road, and along toward the porter's lodge. Patty's heart beat fast as she wondered uncertainly whether the porter would open the gate for her or not, but she carried off matters with a high hand, and ordered in the name of Ma'amselle Labesse that the gate be opened, and it was. Through it they went, and out on to the high road. Patty put on a higher speed, and they flew along like mad.

"Now you can speak if you want to, Rosamond," she said in a strained, tense voice; "or no, perhaps you'd better not, either. There's something the matter! The engine thumps; but it's all right, I know what to do. If only the road keeps smooth,—if we come to no ditches,—if we don't burst a tire! speak to me, Rosamond, do for goodness' sake say something!"

"It's all right, Patty," said Rosamond, in a quiet voice, for she knew that the greatest danger that threatened Patty was her own over-excitement. "You're all right, Patty; keep on just as you are; be careful of this down grade, and you can easily take the next hill."

"Good for you, Rosamond," said Patty, with a really natural laugh; "you're a brick! My nerves ARE strained, but I won't think of that, I'll think only of my car. Oh Rosamond, if only the road isn't bad in any place!"

"It isn't, Patty, the road is perfect. Steady, now, dear, there's a motor coming, but you can easily pass it. Don't you reverse or something?"

"Keep still, Rosamond, do keep still! I know what to do!" Rosamond kept still.

On they flew, the wind in their faces cutting like a cold blast; their hair became loosened as it streamed back from their foreheads.

It was the excitement of danger, and 'way down in their hearts both girls were enjoying it, though they did not realise it at the moment. What the statuesque groom who sat up behind felt, nobody will ever know. He kept his head up straight, and his arms folded, and his face showed a brave do-or-die expression, though there was nobody to notice it.