Patty's Butterfly Days. Wells Carolyn

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      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.

      In response to a desperate appeal from Patty, Jack stopped teasing, and made general conversation, which interested the young people, to the exclusion of Susan.

      Then, supper over, he escorted the chaperon from the table, talking to her in low tones.

      "I hope I didn't bother you," he said. "You see, I know all about it, and I think it's fine of you to help the girls out in this way."

      "You helped me far more than you bothered me, sir," Susan replied with a grateful glance. "Will it soon be over now, sir?"

      "Well, they'll have a few more dances, and probably they'll sing a little. They'll go home before midnight. But, I say, Mrs. Hastings, I won't let 'em trouble you. You sit in this cosy corner, and if you'll take my advice, you'll nod a bit now and then,—but don't go really to sleep. Then they'll let you alone."

      Susan followed this good counsel, and holding her knitting carelessly in her lap, she sat quietly, now and then nodding, and opening her eyes with a slight start. The poor woman was really most uncomfortable, but Patty had ordered this performance and she would have done her best had the task been twice as hard.

      "You were a villain to tease poor Susan so at the table," said Patty to Jack, as they sauntered on the veranda between dances.

      "She came through with flying colours," he replied, laughing at the recollection.

      "Yes, but it was mean of you to fluster the poor thing."

      "Don't you know why I did it?"

      "To tease me, I suppose," and Patty drew down the corners of her mouth and looked like a much injured damsel.

      "Yes; but, incidentally, to see that pinky colour spread all over your cheeks. It makes you look like a wild rose."

      "Does it?" said Patty, lightly. "And what do I look like at other times? A tame rose?"

      "No; a primrose. Very prim, sometimes."

      "I have to be very prim when I'm with you," and Patty glanced saucily from beneath her long lashes; "you're so inclined to—"

      "To what?"

      "To friskiness. I NEVER know what you're going to do next."

      "Isn't it nicer to be surprised?"

      "Well,—that depends. It is if they're nice surprises."

      "Oh, mine always are! I'm going to surprise you a lot of times this summer. Are you to be here, at Mona's, all the rest of the season?"

      "I shall be here two months, anyway."

      "That's time enough for a heap of surprises. Just you wait! But,—I say,—I suppose—oh, pshaw, I know this sounds horrid, but I've got to say it. I suppose everything you're invited to, Mona must be also?"

      Patty's eyes blazed at what she considered a very rude implication.

      "Not necessarily," she said, coldly. "You are quite at liberty to invite whom you choose. Of course, I shall accept no invitations that do not include Mona."

      "Quite right, my child, quite right! Just what I was thinking myself."

      Patty knew he was only trying to make up for his rudeness, and she looked at him severely. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself," she said.

      "I am! Oh, I AM! deeply, darkly, desperately ashamed. But I've succeeded in making your cheeks turn that peculiar shade of brick-red again!"

      "They aren't brick-red!"

      "No? Well, a sort of crushed strawberry shading to magenta, then!"

      Patty laughed, in spite of herself, and Jack smiled back at her.

      "Am I forguv?" he asked, in a wheedling voice.

      "On condition that you'll be particularly nice to Mona all summer. And it's not much to your credit that I have to ASK such a thing of you!"

      "You're 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 СКАЧАТЬ