Patty—Bride

“Now, no war talk, for the moment,” begged Helen. “It does interfere with my enjoyment of my frugal fare, to get stirred up, even by patriotism.”

“Let’s talk about our visit at the Club,” said Patty, suddenly. “Did it strike any of you that Mrs. Doremus was a very strange person?”

“Did it!” said Philip, with emphasis. “Well, rather!”

“As how?” asked Herron.

“To begin with, she was no lady,” Van Reypen asserted.

“Just what do you mean?” pursued Herron.

“That’s a little harsh,” Patty demurred, “but she certainly acted queer.”

“What do you care?” Herron demanded, “she served the purpose of chaperon, when no one else was there to do so.”

“Yes, I know. The principal thing I noticed that seemed strange was that she didn’t knit!”

“My goodness gracious! I never thought of that!” exclaimed Herron.

“Perhaps she couldn’t,” laughed Patty.

“At least, she could have made a stab at it, which is what most women do. Oh, you needn’t laugh! I’ve observed them! They spend more time holding their work off and looking at it, or counting stitches, or picking back – whatever that is! – or correcting mistakes, or, just patting and pinching the thing!”

“You’re right, Mr. Herron,” and Patty laughed at his graphic description, which was greatly aided by his dramatic imitation of a nervous knitter. “But Mrs. Doremus didn’t even do that. Nor did she say anything about it, – which was queer, I think.”

“Yes, it was queer,” agreed Helen, “though I hadn’t thought of it before. Oh, Patty! This cream cake is a dream!”

“A dream cake?” suggested Philip, “a cream cake dream cake, – well, what I noticed especially about our friend and benefactor, was her shoes.”

Herron looked up quickly.

“No lady would wear shoes like those!” Van Reypen asserted.

“I didn’t see them,” said Patty, “her dress was so long. Queer, to have such very long skirts, nowadays.”

“No lady would wear such a long skirt,” Van Reypen went on.

“Oh, Phil, don’t be so critical,” and Patty shook her head at him. “Mrs. Doremus wasn’t fashionable, I know, nor even very well posted as to a chaperon’s duties, but she was kind, and she filled what I think is known as a long-felt want.”

“She told me something you haven’t told me, Patty,” and Helen looked reproachfully at her cousin.

“What?”

“She says your Big Bill is coming to New York in February.”

“She did! A lot she knows about it! She’s a meddlesome Matty, – I think! And, besides, he isn’t, – ’cause why? ’cause if he had been he would have told his little Patty person!”

“How’d she know?” asked Philip.

“Dunno. She may have heard some rumours or had inside information from somebody. I thought you’d be glad to hear it, Patty.”

“I am, if it’s true. But, I never believe good news, till I’m pretty positive. It saves disappointment, lots of times.”

“Little philosopher!” and Van Reypen gave her a sympathetic glance. “But I shouldn’t be surprised if that news were true, for I saw something in the paper this morning that looked like it.”

“When I get home, I’ll have a letter,” and Patty blushed a little, “and I rather guess I’ll be told, if there’s anything to tell.”

“Of course you will,” said Herron. “Also, I’d not be surprised if Miss Fairfield knows more herself than she tells! These letters from Washington to personal friends are not to be read aloud in the market-place, – for more reasons than one.”

Patty looked conscious, but said nothing. Indeed, it was true that Farnsworth often wrote bits of comment on subjects that Patty knew must not be talked over nor his information divulged. And so, she preserved a scrupulous secrecy regarding any war news her letters might hold.

Also, once in a while, Farnsworth sent Patty a little letter, sealed and enclosed in another. This he sometimes asked her not to open until a certain time, or he asked her to mail it in New York, for secret reasons.

All of these matters Patty attended to with punctilious care and she loved to think that she was helping her Little Billee and also her country.

“One doesn’t read one’s love letters aloud, – naturally!” and Patty looked down and blushed.

“Of course not!” cried Helen; “I should say not! And especially yours! Oh, I know! You’ve read bits to me now and then, and if what you omit is any more – ahem – well, turtle-dovish than what you do read, and I’ve no doubt it is– ”

“It is,” Patty returned, with unmoved equanimity. “What’s the use of being engaged if one may not be what you call turtle-dovey! I’m not a bit embarrassed about it. But for my part, I think Mrs. Doremus was decidedly over-curious and forward about me and my affairs.”

“Unladylike,” put in Van Reypen.

“How you harp on that word!” exclaimed Patty. “I don’t think it was so much that, as a lack of good breeding – ”

“Oh, come now, Patty, didn’t you catch on?”

“Catch on to what?”

“Why, that Mrs. Doremus was no lady, – because, – she was a man.”

“What!”

“She sure was! And I’d like an explanation, Herron. I thought I’d let the matter pass until I could see you alone, but I think it’s better to have it out here and now. You brought that person to us, you fixed up the matter, now tell us about it.”

George Herron burst into laughter.

“I own up!” he confessed, “I did it! Alone I did it! Oh, it was a joke!”

Patty looked puzzled. “A man?” she said; “masquerading?”

“Just that, dear lady,” and Herron laughed afresh. “I couldn’t help it! There was no woman on the premises save the housekeeper’s daughter, who was only a girl of fifteen or so. There was no way to keep you girls there for luncheon except by providing a chaperon. So, – I did my best. Don’t look so shocked. It was only a harmless jest. Surely, the quondam chaperon was in no way objectionable; and, as Miss Fairfield admits, she – or he – filled a long-felt want!”

“But who was she – or he?”

“One of the Club attendants. He’s on the house force, sort of manager of the heating and electricity departments. Well, I was put to it, as you know, and I was asking him what to do, and he suggested, – or to be accurate, he fell in with my suggestion, – that he slip into one of the housekeeper’s gowns and play ’Charley’s Aunt.’ So he did.”

“What do you mean, ‘Charley’s Aunt’?” asked Helen.