Patty's Friends Part 9

"Hist, she comes!" declared a weird figure in a sepulchral voice, as he waited in the middle of the stage.

"Hist, she comes!"

But n.o.body came.

"That's her cue," he muttered; "what can be the matter? I say," he cleared his throat and spoke louder: "Hist, she comes!" As the expected entrance was still delayed, he only said: "Well, she ought to be hissed when she does come!" And calmly sat down to wait for her, amid the applause of the audience.

The short playlet soon came to an end, and still shaking with laughter, the party went out again into the beautiful atmosphere which is found on a spring day in Regent's Park.

"Now, my children," said Mrs. Hartley, "I simply cannot walk about any more. I'm going to sit in one of those chairs yonder, for I see some people I know over there. You can amuse yourselves with Punch and Judy, or Ring Toss or whatever you like, and come back to me in an hour or so.

Sinclair, look after the little ones, won't you?"

It was a great joke that Sinclair, the oldest Hartley boy, should look after the others. He had reached the age of twenty, and was much more grave and dignified than Bob and Grace. Mrs. Hartley often declared she could even trust him to match samples for her, so careful was he. So the young people wandered away and spent a delightful hour looking at the beautiful or grotesque sights that adorned the fair.

Patty could not do much financially, but under cover of giving to charity, she bought pretty souvenirs for Mabel and Mrs. Hartley, and laughingly invited the group to be photographed by a Camera Fiend.

This personage was clothed in red, and with black horns and Mephistophelean countenance was made to look as much like a fiend as possible. With outlandish hoots and yells, he posed the group and took several snapshots, which they were to call for later.

As they concluded it was nearly time to drift back to Mrs. Hartley, Patty noticed a gentleman who stood at a little distance, looking at her intently.

"Who's your friend, Patty?" asked Mabel. "Do you know him?"

"Yes," said Patty, slowly. "He's Sir Otho Markleham."

"So he is," said Bob. "I've seen him often, but I don't know him personally."

Sir Otho, still looking at Patty, took a few steps toward her, and then paused irresolutely.

"Please excuse me," said Patty to the others, "I think I'll go speak to him for a minute."

"Do," said Mr. Lawton; "we'll wait for you right here."

Following an impulse, Patty walked directly toward Sir Otho, who looked as if he would like to run away.

"How do you do?" she said, pleasantly, as they met.

"Quite well," he said, but there was no responsiveness in his manner. "Do you wish to speak to me?"

Now after he had first advanced toward Patty, this was a strange question, but she bravely took up the burden of conversation.

"Well, yes," she said, smiling at him prettily; "I want to ask you how you are enjoying the Garden Party."

"I never enjoy anything," he returned, but his face was sad now, rather than angry.

"Oh, what a pity!" said Patty, involuntarily, "and you have such powers of enjoyment, too."

"How do you know that, Miss Yankee Doodle?"

Patty didn't altogether like the name, or rather the tone in which it was said, but she was determined not to get piqued. So she said:

"Oh, because you're such a big, healthy, hearty-looking man; you ought to laugh most of the time."

"Ought I, indeed? But you see I never have anything to laugh at."

At this Patty laughed outright.

"Why, the world is full of things to laugh at,--and you're not blind."

"No, but I don't feel like laughing."

"Don't you ever even feel like smiling?"

"Not often."

"Didn't you feel like smiling just a little bit of a happy smile, when I gave you those flowers the other day? Those flowers--from Kitty."

Sir Otho's face grew dark.

"How dare you mention her name to me?" he cried. "You are a saucy minx!

Go away!"

"I won't be sent away like that," declared Patty, looking haughty now.

"I'm no child to be scolded for nothing. How dare you speak to me like that? What do you think I am?"

Sir Otho turned red with rage. He choked and stammered and looked like a choleric old gentleman, as indeed he was.

"I think you're an impertinent Yankee. What do you think I am?"

Patty looked him squarely in the eye. Her chance had come, and she did not flinch.

"I think," she said, looking steadfastly at him, "I think you're an obstinate, stubborn, selfish, cruel old--Pighead!"

She confessed, afterward, that at that moment she fully expected the irate old man to strike her. But he did not. Instead, he looked at her just a moment in amazement, and then burst into peals of laughter.

Surprised beyond measure, but unable to resist the infectious merriment, Patty laughed too.

"Oh, Miss Yankee Doodle," said Sir Otho, wiping his eyes, "you are most astonis.h.i.+ng. The strange part is, you are quite right. I _am_ a stubborn old Pighead, but how did you know it? Do I wear my heart on my sleeve to that extent?"

"Have you a heart?" asked Patty, so gravely that Sir Otho again roared with laughter.

"And yet," said Patty, thoughtfully, seeing that frankness pleased the old man, "and yet, no one with such a sense of humour as you seem to have can be wholly bad."

"Oh, thank you! So I'm not wholly bad? Well, that's a comfort; I always thought I was. But your friends are looking this way. I think they want you to rejoin them."

"In a moment," said Patty. "Sir Otho,--won't you--please--send a flower back to my friend, Lady Hamilton?"

"I would do much for any friend of yours," said the strange old man, very gravely, and taking a few steps to a nearby flower stand, he bought a bunch of sweet peas, and said, carelessly, "Give her those, if you like."