When Patty Went to College Part 19

"Patty," said Priscilla, "you aren't crying, are you?"

"No," said Patty, savagely; "I'm thinking."

"You will never think of anything that will explain that."

Patty looked up with the air of one who has received an inspiration.

"I'm going to tell him the truth."

"Don't do anything so rash," pleaded the Twin.

"That is, of course, the only thing you can do," said Priscilla. "Sit down and write him a note, and I'll promise not to laugh till you get through."

Patty stood up. "I think," she said, "I'll go and see him."

"Oh, no. Write him a note. It's loads easier."

"No," said Patty, with dignity; "I think I owe him a personal explanation. Is my hair all right? If you girls reveal this to a single person before I come back, I'll not tell you a thing he says," she added as she closed the door.

Patty returned half an hour later, just as they were finally settling down to tea. She peered around the darkening room; finding only four expectant faces, she leisurely seated herself on a cus.h.i.+on on the floor and stretched out her hand for a steaming cup.

"What did he say? What kept you so long?"

"Oh, I stopped in the office to change my electives, and it delayed me."

"You don't mean to tell me that man made you elect astronomy?"

Priscilla asked indignantly.

"Certainly not," said Patty. "I shouldn't have done it if he had."

"Oh, Patty, I know you like to tease, but I think it's odious. You know we're in suspense. Tell us what happened."

"Well," said Patty, placidly gathering her skirts about her, "I told him exactly how it was. I didn't hide anything--not even the bride with the mumps."

"Was he cross, or did he laugh?"

"He laughed," said Patty, "till I thought he was going to fall off his chair, and I looked anxiously around for some water and a call-bell. He really has a surprising sense of humor for a member of the faculty."

"Was he nice?"

"Yes," said Patty; "he was a dear. When he got through discussing Universal Truth, I asked him if I might elect astronomy, and he said I would find it pretty hard the second semester; but I told him I was willing to work, and he said I really showed a remarkable apt.i.tude for explaining phenomena, and that if I were in earnest he would be glad to have me in the cla.s.s."

"I think a man as forgiving as that _ought_ to be elected," said Priscilla.

"You certainly have more courage than I gave you credit for," said Bonnie. "I never could have gone over and explained to that man in the wide world."

Patty smiled discreetly. "When you have to explain to a woman," she said in the tone of one who is stating a natural law, "it is better to write a note; but when it is a man, always explain in person."

XII

The Exigencies of Etiquette

"If I had been the one to invent etiquette," said Patty, "I should have made party calls payable one year after date, and then should have allowed three days' grace at the end."

"In which case," said Priscilla, "I suppose you would get out of calling on Mrs. Millard altogether."

"Exactly," said Patty.

Mrs. Millard--more familiarly referred to as Mrs. Prexy--annually invited the seniors to dinner in parties of ten. Patty, whose turn had come a short time before, owing to an untoward misfortune, had been in the infirmary at the time; but, though she had missed the fun, she now found it necessary to pay the call.

"Of course," she resumed, "I can see why you should be expected to call if you attend the function and partake of the food; but what I _can't_ understand is why a peaceable citizen who desires only to gang his ain gait should, upon the reception of an entirely unsolicited invitation, suddenly find it inc.u.mbent upon him to put on his best dress and his best hat and gloves in order to call upon people he barely knows."

"Your genders," said Priscilla, "are a trifle mixed."

"That," said Patty, "is the fault of the language. The logic, I think, you will find correct. You can see what would happen," she pursued, "if you carry it out to its logical conclusion. Suppose, for instance, that every woman I have ever met in this town should suddenly take it into her head to invite me to a dinner. Here I--perfectly unsuspicious and innocent of any evil, because of a purely arbitrary law which I did not help to make--would not only have to sit down and write a hundred regrets, but would have to pay a hundred calls within the next two weeks. It makes me shudder to think of it!"

"I don't believe you need worry about it, Patty; of course we know you're popular, but you're not as popular as that."

"No," said Patty; "I didn't mean that I thought I really _should_ get that many invitations. It's only that one is open to the constant danger."

During the progress of this conversation Georgie Merriles had been lounging on the couch by the window, reading the "Merchant of Venice" in a critically unimpa.s.sioned way that the instructor in Dramatic Theory could not have praised too much. The room finally having become too dark for reading, she threw down the book with something like a yawn. "It would have been a joke on Portia," she remarked, "if Ba.s.sanio had chosen the wrong casket"; and she turned her attention to the campus outside.

Groups of girls were coming along the path from the lake, and the sound of their voices, mingled with laughter and the jingling of skates, floated up through the gathering dusk. Across the stretches of snow and bare trees lights were beginning to twinkle in the other dormitories, while nearer at hand, and more clearly visible, rose the irregular outline of the president's house.

"Patty," said Georgie, with her nose against the pane, "if you really want to get that call out of the way, now's your chance. Mrs. Millard has just gone out."

Patty dashed into her bedroom and began jerking out bureau drawers.

"Priscilla," she called in an agonized tone, "do you remember where I keep my cards?"

"It's ten minutes of six, Patty; you can't go now."

"Yes, I can. It doesn't matter what time it is, so long as she's out.

I'll go just as I am."

"Not in a golf-cape!"

Patty hesitated an instant. "Well," she admitted, "I suppose the butler might tell her. I'll put on a hat"--this with the air of one who is making a really great concession. Some more banging of bureau drawers, and she appeared in a black velvet hat trimmed with lace, with the brown jacket of her suit over her red blouse, and a blue golf-skirt and very muddy boots showing below.

"Patty, you're a disgrace to the room!" cried Priscilla. "Do you mean to tell me that you are going to Mrs. Millard's in a short skirt and those awful skating-shoes?"

"The butler won't look at my feet; I'm so beautiful above"; and Patty banged the door behind her.

Georgie and Priscilla flattened themselves against the window to watch the progress of the call.

"Look," gasped Priscilla. "There's Mrs. Millard going in at the back door."