right, Patty," and Jack looked honestly penitent. "I'm a good-for-nothing brute! A boor without any manners at all! Not a manner to my name! But if you'll smile upon me, and let me,—er—surprise you once in a while, I'll,—oh, I'll just tie myself to Mona's apron strings!"
"Mona doesn't wear aprons!"
"No, I know it," returned Jack, coolly, and they both laughed.
But Patty knew she had already gained one friend for Mona, for heretofore, Jack Pennington had ignored the girl's existence.
"What are you doing to-morrow, Patty?" asked Dorothy Dennison, as she and Guy Martin came up to the corner where Patty and Jack were sitting. It was a pleasant nook, a sort of balcony built out from the main veranda, and draped with a few clustering vines. The veranda was lighted with Japanese lanterns, whose gayer glow was looked down upon by the silvery full moon.
"We're going to the Sayres' garden party,—Mona and I," said Patty.
"Oh, good gracious!" rejoined Dorothy. "I suppose Mona will have to be asked everywhere, now you're staying with her!"
"Not to YOUR parties, Dorothy, for I'm sure neither of us would care to come!"
It was rarely that Patty spoke crossly to any one, and still more rarely that she flung out such a bitter speech as that; but she was getting tired of combating the prevalent attitude of the young people toward Mona, and though she had determined to overcome it, she began to think it meant real warfare. Dorothy looked perfectly amazed. She had never heard gentle, merry Patty speak like that before.
Guy Martin looked uncomfortable, and Jack Pennington shook with laughter.
"Them cheeks is now a deep solferino colour," he observed, and Patty's flushed face had to break into smiles.
"Forgive me, Dorothy," she said; "I didn't mean what I said, and neither did you. Let's forget it."
Glad of this easy escape from a difficult situation, Dorothy broke into a merry stream of chatter about other things, and the quartette were soon laughing gaily.
"You managed that beautifully, Patty," said Jack, as a little later, they returned to the house for the last dance. "You showed fine tact."
"What! In speaking so rudely to Dorothy?"
"Well, in getting out of it so adroitly afterward. And she had her lesson. She won't slight Mona, I fancy. Look here, Patty. You're a brick, to stand up for that girl the way you do, and I want to tell you that I'll help you all I can."
"Oh, Jack, that's awfully good of you. Not but what I think you OUGHT to be kind and polite to her, but of course you haven't the same reason that I have. I'm her guest, and so I can't stand for any slight or unkindness to her."
"No, of course not. And there are lots of ways that I can—"
"That you can surprise Mona," interrupted Patty, laughing.
Jack smiled appreciation, and to prove it went straight to Mona and asked for the favour of the final dance. Mona was greatly elated, for handsome Jack Pennington had never asked her to dance before. She was not a good dancer, for she was heavy, physically, and self-conscious, mentally; but Jack was skilful, and guided her lightly across the shining floors.
"I'll see you to-morrow at the Sayres'," he said, as the dance ended.
"Yes," said Mona, smiling. "We're going to the garden fete. The Sayres have a house party, you know. I've always longed to have a house party."
"This would be a fine place for one," said Jack, glancing at the large and numerous rooms.
"Yes, it would. Do you suppose I COULD have one?"
"Easy as pie!" declared Jack. "Why don't you?"
"Perhaps I will, after Aunt Adelaide comes. This,—this chaperon to-night is only temporary, you know."
"Yes, I know," said Jack, but he said no more. The discovery of Susan was his secret with Patty, not with Mona. Then the young people prepared to depart, and Patty and Mona stood either side of Mrs. Hastings to assist her, if necessary, in receiving their good-nights.
Jack stood near, too, for he thought he might be of some slight help.
"Good-night, Mrs. Hastings," said Beatrice Sayre. "The girls are coming to my garden party to-morrow, and as my mother also expects guests, I'm sure she'd be glad if you would come."
Susan, much bewildered at being thus addressed, looked about her helplessly, and murmured uncertainly, "Thank you, Miss," when Jack interrupted by saying, "Such a pity, Bee, but Mrs. Hastings goes away to-morrow. Another aunt of Mona's is coming to play chaperon at 'Red Chimneys.'"
"Oh," said Beatrice, carelessly; "then this is good-bye as well as good-night, Mrs. Hastings. I've SO enjoyed meeting you."
These conventional phrases meant nothing on Beatrice's part, but it almost convulsed Patty to hear Susan thus addressed. However, she knew she must play the game a few moments longer, and she did so, watching the thoughtless young guests as they shook hands with the masquerading COOK!
Jack Pennington was the last to go. "I say," he whispered to Patty, "it's been a great success! I don't see how you ever had the nerve to try it, but it worked all right!" Then he went away, and Patty and Mona sank limply into chairs and shook with laughter. Susan instantly returned to her role of servant, and stood before Patty, as if waiting for further orders.
"You were fine, Susan, just fine," Patty said, still giggling as she looked at the satin clad figure.
"I did me best, Miss Patty. I made some shlips, sure, but I thried that hard, ye wuddent belave!" In her earnestness, Susan lapsed into her broadest brogue, and the girls laughed afresh to see the silver headdress wag above Susan's nodding head.
"You were all right, Susan," declared Mona. "Now you can trot off home as fast as you like, or you can stay here over night, as you prefer."
But Susan wanted to go, as her duty was done, so, changing back to her own costume, she went away, gladdened by Mona's generous douceur.
"And now for bed," said Patty, and the two girls started upstairs. But after getting into a kimono, Mona came tapping at Patty's door. She found that young person in a white negligee, luxuriously curled up among the cushions of a wide window seat, gazing idly out at the black ocean.
"Patty, you're a wonder!" her hostess remarked, with conviction. "Can you ALWAYS do EVERYTHING you undertake? But I know you can. I never saw any one like you!"
"No," said Patty, complacently. "They don't catch 'em like me very often. But, I say, Mona, wasn't Susan just a peach? Though if Jack Pennington hadn't helped, I don't know how she would have behaved at the supper table."
"Isn't he a nice young man, Patty?"
"Lovely. The flower of chivalry, and the glass of form, or whatever it is. But he's a waggish youth."
"Well, he's kind. Patty, I'm going to have a house party, and he's going to help me!"
"You DON'T say! My dear Mona, you ARE blossoming out! But you haven't asked MY permission yet."
"Oh, I know you'll agree to anything Jack Pennington favours."
"Sure, I will! But he seems to favour you, and I don't always agree with you!"
"Well, anyway, Patty, it will be perfectly lovely,—and we'll have a gorgeous time!"
"Where do I come in? Providing cooks for chaperons?"
"Nonsense! Aunt Adelaide will come to-morrow, and she'll do the chaperon act. Now, I'll tell you about the house party."
"Not to-night, Lady Gay. It's time for you to go beddy, and I, too, need my beauty sleep."
"You need nothing of the sort,—you're too beautiful as it is!"
"Oh, Mona,—Monissima! DON'T say those things to me! I'm but a weak-minded simpleton, and I MIGHT think you meant them, and grow conceited! Hie thee away, fair maiden, and hie pretty swiftly, too. And call me not to breakfast foods until that the sun is well toward the zenith."
"You needn't get up till you choose, Patty. You know