Patty's Butterfly Days

"Very," said Patty, trying not to laugh.

"I always like that foreign accent," went on Jack; "is it,—er—French?"

"Well, no," opined Patty. "I don't think Mrs. Hastings IS French."

"Ah, German, then, perhaps. I've heard that particular accent before, but I can't just place it."

"I think it's sort of,—of Scotch, don't you?"

"Faith, an' I don't, thin! I'm afther thinkin' she's a daughter av ould Ireland, arrah."

Jack's imitation of Susan's brogue was so funny that Patty laughed outright.

"Perhaps the lady IS Irish," she said; "but she looks charming, and so well-dressed."

"That's so. She IS much better dressed than when I saw her last."

"Saw her last! What do you mean?"

"Well, of course I MAY be mistaken, but do you know, she looks like a—like a lady I saw once in the kitchen garden at 'The Pebbles.'"

"And pray what were you doing in that kitchen garden?"

"Well, I was helping Miller look after your motor one day, and I strolled around the house, back to the front veranda that way. And,"—Jack's voice sank to an impressive whisper,—"there in the midst of the cabbages and eggplants,—there stood Mrs. Hastings,—I'm SURE it was she,—in a calico gown and checked apron!"

"Oh, Jack!" and Patty burst into laughter. "She IS our cook! Don't give it away, will you?"

"Never! Never! But WHAT a joke! Does no one know it?"

"No one at all but Mona and myself. You see—" And then Patty told the whole story.

"Well, that's the best ever!" declared Jack as she finished. "Patty, you do beat all! No one else will guess, I'm sure,—and I'LL never tell. But it's most too good a joke to keep, now, isn't it?"

"But it's going to BE kept! Why, if some people knew of it, they'd drum me out of Spring Beach. And anyway, Jack, I wouldn't have done it, if Susan hadn't been such a dear respectable person herself."

"I'm sure she is, and to show I believe it, I'll take her out to supper."

"Gracious, goodness, Jack! I never thought of supper! Will she have to eat with us?"

"Of course she will! And, as I say, I'll take her out, so there'll be no danger of further discovery."

Patty giggled again. The idea of SUSAN being escorted out to the dining-room of "Red Chimneys"! And by Jack Pennington, the most aristocratic young man in their set!

"All right," she said. "But I must sit the other side of you. I want to keep my eye on her."

And so it came to pass that when supper was announced, Jack went up gallantly and offered his arm to the chaperon.

This seemed quite natural and proper to the other guests, and they paid little attention as Mrs. Hastings rose with dignity, and, with her escort, led the procession.

Susan was resolved to make up for her blunder, and she carried herself with an air of hauteur, and trailed the grey satin gown after her quite as if she were used to such.

"It is a beautiful home, is it not, Mrs. Hastings?" said Jack, by way of making conversation.

"It is, sir," returned Susan, careful of speech and accent, but unable to forget her deference. "Such airy rooms and fine, high ceilings."

Jack couldn't help admiring her aplomb, and he chatted away easily in an endeavour to put her at her ease.

"Will you sit here, Mrs. Hastings?" he said, offering her the seat at the head of the table, as became the chaperon of the party.

Susan hesitated, but catching Mona's nod of acquiescence, she sank gracefully into the armchair Jack held for her.

CHAPTER V

A DINNER PARTY

As Patty expressed it afterward, she felt as limp as a jelly-fish with the grippe when she saw Susan at the head of Mona's table! Mrs. Hastings herself seemed in no way appalled at the sparkling array of glass and silver, of lights and flowers, but she was secretly alarmed lest her ignorance of etiquette should lead her into blunders that might shame Miss Patty.

But Jack Pennington proved himself a trump. Without attracting attention, he touched or indicated which spoon or fork Mrs. Hastings should use. Or he gave her valuable advice regarding the viands.

"I say," he whispered, "you'd better duck the artichoke Hollandaise. You mightn't manage it just right. Or—well—take it, but don't attempt to eat it. You'd sure get into trouble."

Irish Susan had both quick wit and a warm heart, and she appreciated gratefully the young man's good-natured assistance, and adroitly followed his instructions. But Jack was a daring rogue, and the temptation to have a little fun was too strong to resist.

"Are you fond of motoring, Mrs. Hastings?" he asked, innocently, while Patty, on his other side, felt her heart beat madly and her cheeks grow red.

But Susan wasn't caught napping this time.

"Oh, I like it," she said, "but I'm not fair crazy about it, like some." She smiled benignly at Patty, and the few guests who overheard the remarks thought nothing of it.

But naughty Jack went on.

"Oh, then you know of Miss Fairfield's fad. I didn't know you knew her so well. I thought you had just arrived here. Have you been to Spring Beach before?"

Susan looked at Jack with twinkling eyes. She well knew he was saying these things to tease Patty, and she looked kindly at the embarrassed girl as she replied:

"Oh, my niece, Mona, has told me so much about her friend, Miss Fairfield, that I feel as if I had known her a long time."

Patty gasped. Surely Susan could take care of herself, after that astounding speech!

Jack chuckled silently, and as the game promised rare sport, he kept on.

"Are you fond of bridge, Mrs. Hastings?"

Susan looked at him. So far all had gone well, but she didn't know how long she could match his banter. So she favoured him with a deliberate gaze, and said, "Bridge, is it? I'm fond of the game, but I play only with expayrienced players,—so don't ask me."

"Ho! ho! Jack, that's a good one on you!" said Guy Martin, who sat within hearing. "You're right, Mrs. Hastings; he's no sort of a player, but I'm an expert. May I hope for a game with you some time?"

"We'll see about it, young sir," said Susan, with cold dignity, and then turned her attention to her plate.