Patty Blossom

"I might have known there was some trickery," she thought, "when that girl called me over here at the last minute. And she was so sweet and friendly today, it should have put me on my guard. Elise warned me, but I never dreamed of anything like this. However, now is no time to worry over that, I must get out,—that's what I must do, get out!"

But it seemed hopeless. The case was so simple, that there was no opportunity for ingenious schemes. There she was, in the beautiful room, with the only exit to the house, the hall door, securely locked. The door was of solid mahogany, the knob and lock of a most secure firmness. Had it been a light or flimsy door, Patty would have rattled and shaken it, but this door was solid as a rock. Either, she would have to think up some clever plan, and that quickly, or spend the entire evening there in solitude. Her quick mind took in these alternatives, and she thought that if no idea presented itself soon, she would succumb to the inevitable, and quietly settle down for the evening. There were pleasant-looking books about, soft couches and pillows, convenient reading-lamps, and even a box of chocolates on a table. Matters might be worse, thought philosophical Patty. But she hated to give up,—to acknowledge herself beaten.

Once again she opened a window, and looked out. It was on the side of the house, and toward the rear.

The house was not set back far from the street; indeed, the sidewalk was not more than forty feet from the window out of which Patty leaned. An idea came to her, and going quickly to the table she found a sheet of paper and a pencil. There was no desk in the room, and she felt herself lucky to find these things at all. She hastily scribbled a note, but she made it urgent and definite. Then she looked around for a missile which she could throw to the street. There were few things that were available, and she finally selected a heavy hairbrush as the best. It was of ivory and bore a bold monogram, as did the rest of Ray's toilet appointments, but Patty took it unhesitatingly, as she had reached the limit of her patience and consideration.

She tied the note firmly to the brush, and leaning far out of the window, waited for a promising passer-by. At last, a young man came along, and Patty deftly threw the brush so that it landed at his very feet. Practice at basketball and other such sports had made her accurate of aim and as the astonished man saw the brush, he naturally picked it up.

Patty watched him take off the note and read it, by the light of the street electric, and after a swift gaze at the house, he started off at a brisk pace.

"H'm," said Patty to herself, "not so worse, Miss Fairfield, not so worse! The axe is laid at the root of the tree!"

Glancing at the clock, she sat down to wait. It was twenty minutes to eight, but her heart beat high with hope. If she could outwit Ray Rose it would be great fun, and she would "pay back" the mischievous girl in her own coin.

At ten minutes to eight, the door of the room opened a little way. A servant of the Rose household put her head in, and said, "This woman wishes to see you, Miss Fairfield," and Sarah, a maid from the Farringtons', stood in the doorway.

"Come in, Sarah," said Patty. "Close that door!" she said to the Rose servant, so peremptorily, that the order was obeyed at once.

"Quick!" whispered Patty, and Sarah tore off her long cloak and bonnet and veil, and Patty as quickly put them on. Then she took the small basket Sarah had brought, and standing near the door, said, in a clear voice: "You may go now, Sarah. Tell Miss Elise not to look for me this evening."

"Yes, Miss Patty," Sarah responded, and then, as the servant outside opened the door, Patty slipped through, turning her face so that it might not be seen. The Rose servant, thinking Sarah had come out, relocked the door quickly, that the prisoner might not escape, and Patty went demurely downstairs, and out at the back door, without let or hindrance. Once in the street, she fairly flew to the hall where the circus performance was to be given, for she well knew that Ray Rose had probably already secured her dancing costume from Elise by some plausible bit of trickery.

It was but a few moments after eight when Patty walked into the dressing-room of the amateur performers.

"For gracious' sake, Patty, where have you been?" cried Elise, who was sitting before a mirror, making up her face. "Nobody could find you anywhere!"

"Here I am, all right," said Patty, blithely. "Where's Ray Rose?"

"In the next room. Where's your costume? Ray came over and got it from the house."

"Oh, she did, did she? All right."

Patty went into the next room, where several girls sat in their stage costumes, and all with warm wraps around them. Ray Rose was completely enveloped in a long cloak that covered her from neck to feet.

"Hello, Ray," said Patty, pleasantly; "I'll take my costume now, as I want to get dressed in it."

If ever there was a surprised looking girl it was Ray at that moment.

She stared at Patty as at an apparition.

"Where—where did you come from?" she stammered.

"Oh, I ran over from your house. Your room is lovely, Ray, but I got awfully tired of it. Now, you get yourself out of my skirts, and hand them over to me. But first, you go and telephone to your household to let Sarah, the Farringtons' maid, out of your room, where she may yet be locked in, for all I know."

Ray looked bewildered, and Patty, whose eyes were shining with righteous indignation, took her by the arm, and marched her to the telephone. Patty herself called up the Rose house, and then, thrusting the receiver into Ray's hand, said, "Give your order, and be quick about it."

"Let the girl out of my room," said Ray, through the transmitter. "It isn't Miss Fairfield in there now, it's one of the Farrington maids. Let her go home."

Patty took the receiver from Ray and hung it up, and then marched her to the dressing-room, and divested her of her long cloak.

"Why, Ray Rose!" cried Elise, "if you haven't got Patty's dress on, yourself! What are you up to?"

"Never mind, Elise," said Patty, "help us change, there isn't much time. Ray made a mistake."

Without a word, Ray took off Patty's voluminous tulle skirts in which she was arrayed, and handed them over to their rightful owner. As fast as she received them, Patty put them on, and in ten minutes, was herself clothed in her rightful property.

Meantime Ray had no costume to wear.

"Where's your Pierrette rig?" asked Patty.

"Over home," said Ray, disconsolately.

"Go and telephone for them to send it over, if you want it," said Patty. "Put on your long cloak, and telephone."

Ray looked at her dubiously for a moment, and then said, "No, I won't.

I'll go home and stay home,—that's what I'll do!"

"Go ahead," said Patty, blithely, who didn't feel she really owed the girl any further consideration. "And next time you try to get even with anybody, pick out some one who'll let you stay even!"

"You're a hummer!" said Ray, in unwilling admiration. "How did you do it?"

"I'll tell you some other time," and Patty laughed in spite of herself at the admiration on Ray's countenance. "If you're going to get your costume over here and get into it, you want to hustle."

"Time enough," returned Ray, carelessly. "My stunt is the sixth on the program, so there's lots of time."

This was true, so Patty turned all her attention to reddening her pink cheeks, while the other girls gathered around in desperate curiosity.

"What does it all mean?" asked Ethel Merritt. "Do tell us, Miss Fairfield. Why did Ray wear your dress?"

"Ask her," said Patty, smiling. "It was a whim of hers, I guess. It made me a little bother, but all's well that ends well."

"You are the good-naturedest old goose!" cried Elise, who had an inkling of what was inexplicable to the others.

"Might as well," said Patty, serenely. "She's a hummer, Ray Rose is.

She sure is a hummer!"

And then Patty pronounced herself finished and turned from the mirror for inspection.

"Lovely!" approved Elise, "if you admire strongly-marked features!"

Patty's cheeks and lips were very red, her eyebrows greatly darkened, and her face thickly coated with powdered chalk.

"It's awful, I know," she agreed, "but in the strong lights of the stage and the footlights too, you have to pile it on like that."

"Of course you do," said Ethel. "Mine looks the same."