Patty Blossom

Laughingly gaily, the girls went to take their places on the stage.

Bob Riggs, the ringmaster, was there and assigned them their places.

Patty's performance was near the beginning of the program. She did a solo dance, first, a lovely fancy dance that she had learned in New York, and then she did the grotesque and humorous dances called for by the occasion. The one that necessitated springing, head first, through hoops covered with light, thin paper, she did very prettily, striking the taut paper with just the right force to snap it into a thousand shreds.

Her act was wildly applauded by the enthusiastic audience, and would have been several times repeated but for the scarcity of hoops.

Later came her grotesque dance with Bruin Boru, the wonderful dancing bear. Jack Fenn was very funny in his bear-skin costume, and he pawed and scraped as he ambled ludicrously about, and kept time to the music with mincing steps or sprawling strides.

This number was the hit of the evening, and Ray Rose had longed to perform it herself. But her plan fell through, and in her pretty Pierrette costume she did a very pleasing song and dance, but her eyes rested longingly on Patty's frilly skirts.

The last number was a chariot race. The chariots were of the low, backless variety, peculiar to circus performances, indeed they had been procured from a real circus.

Patty and Ethel Merritt drove two of these, and Bob Riggs and Jack Fenn the other two.

But there was no such mad race as is sometimes seen at the real circuses. The two men drove faster, but Patty and Ethel were content to fall behind and bring up the rear. In fact, it was in no sense of the word a race, but merely a picturesque drive of the gorgeous chariots by the gay drivers.

As Patty swept round the small arena for the last time, she beckoned to Ray Rose, who sat, a little disconsolately, near the edge of the stage platform.

"Get in!" Patty whispered, as she slowed down, and, obeying without question, Ray jumped from the stage, right into the chariot, which was large enough to hold both girls.

"Grab the reins with me!" Patty cried, and Ray did, and the final triumphant circuit was made with two laughing drivers holding the ribbons, to the deafening applause of the hilarious audience.

Bob Riggs, from his own chariot, pronounced the entertainment over, and then the performers and audience mingled in a gay crowd, dancing and feasting till the small hours.

"I'm sorry," said Ray, penitently, to Patty, as soon as she had a good chance. "I was a wretch, and you're an angel to speak to me at all."

"I am," agreed Patty, calmly. "Not one girl in a dozen would forgive you. It was a horrid thing to do, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself and you are. I know that. But I choose to forget the whole affair, and I only ask you never to treat anybody else so meanly."

"I never will," promised Ray Rose. "I think you have cured me of that childish trick of 'getting even.'"

"Yes, till next time," said Patty, laughing.

CHAPTER VIII

A REAL POEM

"It's simply absurd of you, Patty," said Elise, as they reached home after the circus, "to let Ray Rose off so easily. She cut up an awfully mean trick, and she ought to be made to suffer for it."

"Now, now, Elise, it's my own little kettle of fish, and you must keep out of it. You see, it makes a difference who does a thing. If Ray Rose were an intimate friend of mine, I should resent her performance and make a fuss about it. But she is such a casual acquaintance,—why, probably I shall never see her again after I go away from Lakewood,—and so I consider it better judgment to ignore her silly prank, rather than stir up a fuss about it."

"I don't agree with you, you're all wrong; but tell me the whole story.

What did she do?"

"You see, she was determined to do that hoop dance, and the only way she could think of, to get me out of it, was to get me over to her house and lock me up there. It was a slim chance I had of getting out, but I managed it. She called me over by telephone, and then locked me in her bedroom. How did she get my clothes?"

"Sent a maid over here, saying that you were at her house and wanted your costume sent over. I thought you were helping her, in your usual idiotic 'helping hand' way, and I sent the dress and all the belongings."

"Well, of course, I knew nothing about all that. So, I suppose the little minx dressed herself and put on the long cloak and walked off. She is boss in her own home, I know that, and, as I learned later, her father and mother were out to dinner, so she ordered the servants to pay no attention to any call or disturbance I might make. I sized it up, and I felt pretty sure no screaming or yelling or battering at the door would do any good, so I pondered on a move of strategy. But I couldn't think of anything for a long time, and had just about made up my mind to spend the evening there, when I made one desperate attempt and it succeeded. I wrote a note to Sarah to come over there and say she had to give me a certain medicine at that hour, or I would be ill. And I told her to wear a thick veil and a long cloak. She did all this, and I just slipped into her cloak and hat and veil and came out the door in her place, leaving her behind. They thought it was Sarah who came out, of course."

"Fine! Patty, you're a genius! How did you get the note to Sarah?"

"Tied it to Ray's hairbrush and threw it at the feet of a young man who was going by. On the outside I wrote, 'Please take this quickly to Sarah Moore at George Farrington's,' and gave the address. I added, 'Hurry, as it is a matter of tremendous importance!' And I'd like to know who that young man was."

"Where's the hairbrush?"

"Sarah brought it back with her, and left it where it belongs. I knew it might be broken or lost, but I could have replaced it, so I took that chance. And nothing else seemed just right to throw."

"But, Patty, it was an awful thing for Ray to do to you."

"Oh, don't fuss, Elise. Consider the circumstances. I had given her permission, in a sort of way, to keep me from that stunt if she could, and she had said, 'If I do, remember you said I might.' So you see, she was within her rights, in a way, and beside, I tell you I don't want to stir up a hornets' nest about it. The incident is beneath notice; and, do you know, I can't help admiring the girl's daring and ingenuity."

"Oh, you'd admire a Grizzly Bear, if he succeeded in eating you up!

You're a good-natured goose, Patty."

"Maybe. But I know the difference between a foolish prank and a real offence, that must be resented. You're the goose, Elise, not to see how silly it would be to raise a row against a girl who means nothing to me, and whom I shall never see again after this visit is over."

"All right, Pattikins, have it your own way. Ray Rose is a sort of law unto herself, and she has lots of friends who would take her part."

"It isn't that, exactly. If I wanted to raise the issue, I'm sure my side of the matter would be the side of right and justice. But it isn't worth my time or trouble to take it up. And, then, I did tell her to go ahead and outwit me, if she could, so there's that on her side. Now, Elise, about going home. I must go soon, for I want to be in New York a week before the wedding, and you do, too."

"Yes, I do. Suppose we stay down here for the skating party day after tomorrow, and then go to New York the day after that."

"I think so. Your mother will be going up about then, and the days will fairly fly until the fifteenth. It seems funny to think of Roger being married, doesn't it? He's such a boy."

"I know it. Mona seems older than he, though she isn't."

"A girl always seems older than a man, even of the same age. I want to have 'a shower' for Mona before the wedding."

"Oh, Patty, a shower is so—so–"

"So chestnutty? I know it. But Mona wants it. Of course she didn't say so right out, but I divined it. It isn't that she wants the presents, you know, but Mona has a queer sort of an idea that she must have everything that anybody else has. And Lillian Van Arsdale had a shower, so Mona wants one, and I'm going to give it for her."

"All right. What kind?"

"Dunno yet, but something strikingly novel and original. I shall set my great intellect to work on it at once, and invite the people by notes from here, before I go back to New York."

"All right, my lady, but if you don't get to bed now, you'll be pale and holler-eyed tomorrow, and that will upset your placid vanity."

"Wretch! As if I had a glimmer of a trace of a vestige of that deadly sin!"

The girls were very busy during the last few days of Patty's stay in Lakewood. There were many matters to attend to in connection with the approaching wedding. Also, Patty had become a favourite in the social circle and many parties were made especially for her.

And the day before their departure, Elise gave a little farewell tea, to which were bidden only the people Patty liked best.

The Blaneys were there, and, capturing Patty, Sam took her from the laughing crowd and led her to a secluded alcove of the veranda. It was a pleasant nook, enclosed with glass panes, and filled with ferns and palms.