Patty's Friends Part 11

It was a long ride to their destination in Kent, and not an especially interesting one, but Patty, in the companions.h.i.+p of her dear friend, was entirely happy. They chatted gaily as the train rolled from one English town to another. At Robertsbridge they had to change to a funny little railroad, which had the strangest cars Patty had ever seen.

They were almost like freight cars, with benches along the sides. There were no tickets, and presently the guard came in to collect their fares, as if in a street-car.

Moreover the luggage had been tumbled in without check or paster, and Patty wondered if anybody ever could pick out their own again.

"Your regular first-cla.s.s coaches are funny enough," she said to Lady Hamilton, "but they are comfortable. This box we're in is like a cattle pen."

"Oh, no," laughed Lady Hamilton; "this isn't bad at all. You see it's only a tiny branch road, running to some little hamlets, and it's not much used. There are only about two trains each way every day."

This gave Patty a different idea of the little railroad, and she began to feel a more personal interest in it. They rolled slowly through the hop-growing country, and though the scenery was not grand, it was picturesque. Patty said it was like a panorama of "The Angelus." They reached their station at about five o'clock, and found a fine open barouche awaiting them, and a wagon for their trunks.

The footman greeted them deferentially, and asked them to pick out their luggage from the lot that had been dumped on the station platform.

"I can't see either of my trunks," said Patty. "So I suppose I'd better take the ones I like best of these others."

"Nonsense," said Lady Hamilton; "yours must be here somewhere. Look around, Marie; you know Miss Fairfield's boxes."

"Yes, my Lady; but they are not here."

Sure enough, they weren't there, and as Patty was certain they had been put on the train, she concluded they had been carried on.

"What can I do?" she cried. "Can we telephone to the next station and have them sent back?"

But in that small station, merely a tiny box, there was no telephone.

The impa.s.sive coachman and footman from Herenden Hall seemed to have no advice to offer, so there was nothing to do but to proceed to the house.

Patty was distressed at the outlook.

"Oh, Kitty," she said; "I can't go to dinner at all! Of course I couldn't appear in this travelling costume, and I'll have to put on one of your negligees, and eat dinner all alone in my room!"

The prospect was appalling, but neither of them could think of any help for it.

"Has Lady Herenden any daughters about my age?" Patty asked, after a few moments' thought.

"No, indeed. She and Lord Herenden have no children. But if there are any young girls there as guests, you might borrow a frock for to-night.

Surely they'll get your things by to-morrow."

They drove into the park, through great gates, and past various lodges.

The wonderful old trees waved above their heads; the marvellous lawns stretched away in rolling slopes; and the well-kept road wound along, now over a bridge, now under an arch until they paused at the n.o.ble old entrance of Herenden Hall.

Liveried servants seemed to appear, as if by magic, from all directions at once. Dogs came, barking a noisy welcome, and, following Lady Hamilton across the terrace and into the great entrance hall, Patty found herself being presented to a lovely young woman, almost as beautiful as Lady Hamilton herself.

"You must be the greatest chums," Lady Hamilton was saying, "for Miss Fairfield is one of my dearest friends, and I want you to adore each other."

"We will!" said Lady Herenden and Patty, at the same moment, and then they all laughed, and the guests were at once shown to their rooms.

After a bewildering route through several branching halls, Patty found that to her had been a.s.signed a large and pleasant room, which looked out upon the rose-garden. On one side it communicated with Lady Hamilton's room, and on the other opened into a dainty dressing-room and bath. It was all enchanting, and Patty's gaze rested admiringly upon the chintz draperies and Dresden ornaments, when she heard a tap at her door.

Answering, she found a trim maid, who courtesied and said: "I'm Susan, Miss. Will you give me the keys of your boxes, and I'll unpack them."

Patty almost laughed at this casual request, in the face of what seemed to her a tragedy.

"Susan," she said, "here are the keys, but you can't unpack my boxes for they haven't come."

"Lor', Miss; they must be downstairs. I'll have them sent up."

"No--wait, Susan; they're not downstairs. They didn't come on the train."

"Lor', Miss, whatever will you do?"

The girl's eyes grew big and troubled. Here was a dreadful situation indeed! Already Susan felt drawn toward the pretty young American girl, and she was aghast at the outlook of a dinner party with no party frock.

"I can't go to dinner at all, Susan," said Patty, dejectedly. "You must bring me a tray up here--though I don't feel like eating."

"Not go to dinner, Miss? Oh, what a pity! It's a grand dinner to-night.

The Earl of Ruthven is here, and it's one of her ladys.h.i.+p's greatest dinners of the season."

The good Susan looked so concerned, and her face was so anxious, that it went straight to Patty's heart. To her mind there came a vivid and tantalising remembrance of her exquisite dinner frock, of white chiffon, embroidered with tiny sprays of blossoms--a soft sash and shoulder-knots--one of the loveliest dresses she had ever had, and with a sob she threw herself on to the couch and indulged in a few foolish but comforting tears.

"There, there, Miss," said Susan, sympathisingly, "don't ee take on so.

Maybe we can find summat for ee."

When Susan was excited or troubled, she lapsed into her old dialect, which she was striving to outgrow.

"You can't find anything, I know," said Patty, sitting up, and looking the picture of woe. "There are no very young ladies in the house, are there, Susan?"

"No, Miss, none so young as yourself, nor near it."

"And I can't wear this," went on Patty, looking at the silk blouse that was part of her travelling gown.

"Lor' no, Miss; not to a dinner!"

"Then what?"

"Then what, indeed, Miss!"

Patty and Susan faced each other, at last in a full realisation of the hopelessness of the situation, when, after a light tap at the door, Lady Hamilton came in.

She laughed outright at the tragic att.i.tude of the two, and knew at once what they were troubled about.

"Listen to me, Pattypet," she said. "Am I your fairy G.o.dmother, or am I not?"

"You are," said Patty, with an air of conviction, and feeling sure that Lady Hamilton was about to help her out of her troubles, somehow.

"Well, I've carefully considered the case. I've sent Marie to canva.s.s the house for clothes suitable for a mademoiselle of seventeen."

"Nearly eighteen," murmured Patty.

"It doesn't matter. There isn't what's known as a 'misses' costume'