were in the way.”
Patty’s face fell.
“I oughtn’t to go,” she said, “for I’ve promised the girls to spend Saturday morning with them, and now this plan of yours means that I shall lose the whole day, and I have so much to do on Saturday; an extra theme to write, and a lot of back work to make up. Oh, Ken, I oughtn’t to go.”
“Oh, come ahead. You can do those things Saturday evening.”
Patty sighed. She knew she wouldn’t feel much like work Saturday evening, but she couldn’t resist the temptation of the gay party Saturday afternoon. So she agreed to go, and Kenneth went away much pleased.
“What do you think, grandma?” said she. “Do you think I ought to have given up the matinée, and stayed at home to study?”
“No, indeed,” said Grandma Elliott, who was an easy-going old lady. “You’ll enjoy the afternoon with your young friends, and, as Kenneth says, you can study in the evening.”
So when Saturday came Patty spent the morning with Elise. The other girls were there, and they really got to work on their play, and planned the scenes and the characters.
“It will be perfectly lovely!” exclaimed Adelaide Hart. “I’m so glad for our class to do something worth while. It will be a great deal nicer than the tableaux of last year.”
“But it will be an awful lot of work,” said Hilda Henderson. “All those costumes, though they seem so simple, will be quite troublesome to get up, and the scenery will be no joke.”
“Perhaps Mr. Hepworth will help us with the scenery,” said Patty. “He did once when we had a kind of a little play in Vernondale, where I used to live. He’s an artist, you know, and he can sketch in scenes in a minute, and make them look as if they had taken days to do. He’s awfully clever at it, and so kind that I think he’ll consent to do it.”
“That will be regularly splendid!” said Elise, “and you’d better ask him at once, Patty, so as to give him as much time as possible.”
“No, I won’t ask him quite yet,” said Patty, laughing. “I think I’ll wait until the play is written, first. I don’t believe it’s customary to engage a scene painter before a play is scarcely begun.”
“Well, then, let’s get at it,” said Hilda, who was practical.
So to work they went, and really wrote the actual lines of a good part of the first act.
“Now, that’s something like,” said Patty, as, when the clock struck noon, she looked with satisfaction on a dozen or more pages, neatly written in Hilda’s pretty penmanship. “If we keep on like that, we can get this thing done in five or six Saturday mornings, and then I’ll ask Mr. Hepworth about the scenery. Then we can begin to rehearse, and we’ll just about be ready for commencement day.”
While Patty was with the girls, her interest and enthusiasm were so great that the play seemed the only thing to be thought of. But when she reached home and saw the pile of untouched schoolbooks and remembered that she would be away all the afternoon, she felt many misgivings.
However, she had promised to go, so off she went to the matinée, and had a thoroughly pleasant and enjoyable time. Mrs. Morse invited her to go home to dinner with Clementine, saying that she would send her home safely afterward.
Clementine added her plea that this invitation might be accepted, but Patty said no. Although she wanted very much to go with the Morses, yet she knew that duty called her home. So she regretfully declined, giving her reason, and went home, determined to work hard at her themes and her lessons. But after her merry day with her young friends, she was not only tired physically, but found great difficulty in concentrating her thoughts on more prosaic subjects. But Patty had pretty strong will-power, and she forced herself to go at her work in earnest. Grandma Elliott watched her, as she pored over one book after another, or hastily scribbled her themes. A little pucker formed itself between her brows, and a crimson flush appeared on her cheeks.
At ten o’clock Mrs. Elliott asserted her authority.
“Patty,” she said, “you must go to bed. You’ll make yourself ill if you work so hard.”
Patty pushed back her books. “I believe I’ll have to, grandma,” she said. “My head’s all in a whirl, and the letters are dancing jigs before my eyes.”
Exhausted, Patty crept into bed, and though she slept late next morning, Grandma Elliott imagined that her face still bore traces of worry and hard work.
“Nonsense, grandma,” said Patty, laughing. “I guess my robust constitution can stand a little extra exertion once in a while. I’ll try to take it easier this week, and I believe I’ll give up my gymnasium work. That will give me more time, and won’t interfere with getting my diploma.”
But though Patty gained a few extra half hours by omitting the gymnasium class, she missed the daily exercise more than she would admit even to herself.
“You’re getting round-shouldered, Patty,” said Lorraine, one day; “and I believe it’s because you work so hard over those old lessons.”
“It isn’t the work, Lorraine,” said Patty, laughing. “It’s the play. I had to rewrite the whole of that garden scene last night, after I finished my lessons.”
“Why, what was the matter with it?”
“It was all wrong. We didn’t think of it at the time, but in one place Elise has to go off at one side of the stage, and, immediately after, come on at the other side, in different dress. Now, of course, that won’t do; it has to be arranged so that she will have time to change her costume. So I had to write in some lines for the others. And there were several little things like that to be looked after, so I had to do over pretty nearly the whole scene.”
“It’s a shame, Patty! We make you do all the hardest of the work.”
“Not a bit of it. I love to do it; and when we all work together and chatter so, of course we don’t think it out carefully enough, and so these mistakes creep in. Don’t say anything about it, Lorraine. The girls will never notice my little changes and corrections, and I don’t want to pose as a poor, pale martyr, growing round-shouldered in her efforts to help her fellow-sisters!”
“You’re a brick, Patty, but I will tell them, all the same. If we’re all going to write this play together, we’re going to do it all, and not have you doing our work for us.”
Lorraine’s loyalty to Patty was unbounded, and as she had, moreover, a trace of stubbornness in her character, Patty knew that no amount of argument would move her from her determination to straighten matters out. So she gave up the discussion, only saying, “You won’t do a bit of good, Lorraine; and anyway, somebody ought to revise the thing, and if I don’t do it, who will?”
Patty said this without a trace of egotism, for she and Lorraine both knew that none of the other girls had enough constructive talent or dramatic capability to put the finishing touches on the lines of the play. That was Patty’s special forte, just as Clementine Morse was the one best fitted to plan the scenic effects, and Elise Farrington to design the costumes.
“That’s so,” said Lorraine, with a little sigh, “and I suppose, Patty, you’ll just go on in your mad career, and do exactly as you please.”
“I suppose I shall,” said Patty, laughing at Lorraine’s hopeless expression; “but I do want this play to be a success, and I mean to help all I can, in any way I can.”
“It’s bound to be a success,” said Lorraine with enthusiasm, “because the girls are all so interested, and I think we’re all working hard in our different ways. Of course I don’t have anything to do except to look after the incidental music, but I do hope that will turn out all right.”
“Of course it will, Lorraine,” said Patty. “Your selections are perfect