about. The boats were hung with Chinese lanterns, which gave the lake the appearance of a regatta or a water festival.
Then back to the house for a dance in the great hall. The musicians had remained, and to their inspiriting strains the young people glided about in merry measures.
“Do give me another waltz,” Tom Meredith begged of Patty.
“I’d be glad to, Tom,” said Patty, frankly; “but I can’t do it without offending somebody else. I love to dance with you, but you’ve had three already, and I’ve promised all the rest.”
But Tom wheedled Mrs. Hartley into allowing one more extra, after the last dance, and he claimed Patty for that.
“You’re the best dancer I ever saw,” said Tom, as they floated away.
“You’re the best English dancer I ever saw,” laughed Patty, for she well knew English people do not dance like Americans. Good-natured Tom didn’t mind her implication, and after the waltz was ended he led her out on the terrace to sit down for a bit and rest. There were several others there, the Hartley boys among them, and soon they began to sing songs.
Others came and joined them, and the young voices rose in merry choruses and glees.
“You have splendid songs in England,” said Patty, after the men’s voices had come out strong in “Hearts of Oak” and “Rule Britannia.”
“Yes, we have,” agreed Tom. “But, Patty, won’t you sing something alone?”
“Do,” chorused the rest, and Mabel said: “Sing that newest song that you and Sinclair made.”
“‘The Moon’s Song?’” asked Patty.
“Yes; this is just the night for it.”
The moon was nearing the western horizon, and its soft light fell across the lake in silver ripples. Truly it was just the time and place to sing the pretty song of which Patty had composed the words, and Sinclair had set them to music. It was a simple air, but full of soft, lingering cadences, and without accompaniment Patty’s really sweet voice sounded exquisite as it thrilled through the summer evening air.
The song was called “The Minstrel Moon,” and the words were these:
“I wonder if the moon could sing,
On a marvellous, mystical night in spring,
I wonder what the song would be
That the minstrel moon would sing to me.
And as I think, I seem to know
How the music of the moon would go.
It would be a mystic, murmuring strain
Like the falling of far-away fairy rain.
Just a soft and silvery song
That would swing and swirl along;
Not a word
Could be heard
But a lingering ding-a-dong.
Just a melody low and sweet,
Just a harmony faint and fleet,
Just a croon
Of a tune
Is the Music of the Moon.”
Chapter XX.
Good-Byes
One beautiful morning, about a week after the garden party, Patty lay in her favourite hammock out under the trees. She liked this hammock especially, for from it she could see both terraces, the formal gardens, and the lake beyond.
As she looked around this morning she could see the workmen busily engaged in restoring the gardens to their original symmetry and beauty. The Hartleys were by no means purse proud or ostentatious, and their sudden acquisition of a great fortune in no way changed their simple, pleasant attitude toward life. But they were now enabled to live in their dear old home, without financial anxieties, and moreover, were able to repair and restore its appointments.
But though Patty loved to let her idle gaze roam over the attractive landscape, her thoughts just now were far away. She had in her hand a letter from her father, and its message was strongly in favour of her leaving Cromarty Manor and joining her parents in Switzerland.
It was for Patty to make choice, but both Nan and Mr. Fairfield urged the plan they proposed. So Patty was thinking it over. She was very happy at Cromarty, and the life was quiet and pleasant, and interspersed with many little gaieties. But she thought, herself, it was a pity not to travel about and see sights and places when opportunity presented itself.
As she lay, thinking, she saw a large motorcar coming along the drive through the park. She jumped out of the hammock and started toward the house, in order to greet the guests whoever they might be. As the car came nearer, she saw a lady and gentleman in the tonneau, but so concealed were they by their motor-clothes she could not recognise them.
As they drew nearer, the lady waved her hand, and seeing the familiar gesture, Patty at once realised that it was Lady Hamilton.
Her father was with her, and Patty ran to meet them, and reached the steps of the great entrance of Cromarty just as the car swung round the last curve of the road.
“Oh, Kitty!” cried Patty; “I’m so glad to see you! Where did you come from? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? How do you do, Sir Otho. This is indeed a surprise.”
“How are you, my dear child?” said Sir Otho Markleham, after Patty had released Lady Kitty from her enthusiastic embrace, and turned to shake hands with her father.
“Come in,” said Patty, dancing about in her excited glee. “Come right in. You are welcome to Cromarty Manor, and in a moment the family will also tell you so.”
“What a delightful house!” said Lady Hamilton, pausing to admire the stately old portal.
“Yes, isn’t it? You know the Hartleys, don’t you?”
“Slightly. I’ll be glad to see them again. But, of course, we came to see you.”
“And it’s a lovely surprise. Are you staying near here?”
“Only for a day or two,” said Sir Otho. “We’re taking a little jaunt about, and as Kitty wanted to see you especially, we came in this direction.”
The chauffeur and the big touring car were put in charge of the Cromarty coachman, and Patty ushered her guests into the house.
The ladies soon appeared and with hospitable welcome insisted that Sir Otho and his daughter should remain for a few days. This they were unable to do, but it was finally decided that they should stay the night, and resume their trip the next day.
“And,” said Sir Otho, “it may seem a rather sudden proceeding, but we want to take Patty with us.”
“Take Patty!” exclaimed Mabel, aghast; “for how long?”
“You tell her,” said Sir Otho, smiling at his daughter. “I haven’t the courage.”
“I’ll explain later,” said Lady Hamilton. “But now, I want to enjoy the beauties of this grand old place. Is this the celebrated apartment where the fortune was hidden?”
“Yes,” said Patty, who had written to Lady Kitty about the matter. “And here is the old chimney-piece.”
“You can imagine, Lady Hamilton,” said Mrs. Hartley, “the deep debt of gratitude we are under to our dear Patty.”
“You must be, indeed. But I know Patty is quite as glad that she made the discovery as you are yourselves.”
The rest of the morning was devoted