"It"s a might jolly sort of club, too," young Oram said.
"That is exactly what it has turned out to be," Pauline laughed. "Are the vases ready, Shirley?"
Shirley brought the tray of empty flower vases out on the veranda, and sent Harry Oram for a bucket of fresh water. "Harry is to make the salad," she explained to Pauline, as he came back. "Before he leaves the manor he will have developed into a fairly useful member of society."
"You"ve never eaten one of my salads, Miss Shaw," Harry said. "When you have, you"ll think all your previous life an empty dream."
"It"s much more likely her later life will prove a nightmare,--for a while, at least," Shirley declared. "Still, Paul, Harry does make them rather well. Betsy Todd, I am sorry to say, doesn"t approve of him.
But there are so many persons and things she doesn"t approve of; lawn-parties among the latter."
Pauline nodded sympathetically; she knew Betsy Todd of old. Her wonder was, that the Dayres had been able to put up with her so long, and she said so.
""Hobson"s choice,"" Shirley answered, with a little shrug. "She isn"t much like our old Therese at home, is she, Harry? But nothing would tempt Therese away from her beloved New York. "Vairmon! Nevaire have I heard of zat place!" she told Harry, when he interviewed her for us.
Senior"s gone to Vergennes--on business thoughts intent, or I hope they are. He"s under strict orders not to "discover a single bit" along the way, and to get back as quickly as possible."
"You see how beautifully she has us all in training?" Harry said to Pauline.
Pauline laughed. Suddenly she looked up from her flowers with sobered face. "I wonder," she said slowly, "if you know what it"s meant to us--you"re being here this summer, Shirley? Sometimes things do fit in just right after all. It"s helped out wonderfully this summer, having you here and the manor open."
"Pauline has a fairy-story uncle down in New York," Shirley turned to Harry. "You"ve heard of him--Mr. Paul Shaw."
"Well,--rather! I"ve met him, once or twice--he didn"t strike me as much of a believer in fairy tales."
"He"s made us believe in them," Pauline answered.
"I think Senior might have provided me with such a delightful sort of uncle," Shirley observed. "I told him so, but he says, while he"s awfully sorry I didn"t mention it before, he"s afraid it"s too late now."
"Uncle Paul sent us Bedelia," Pauline told the rather perplexed-looking Harry, "and the row-boat and the camera and--oh, other things."
"Because he wanted them to have a nice, jolly summer," Shirley explained. "Pauline"s sister had been sick and needed brightening up."
"You don"t think he"s looking around for a nephew to adopt, do you?"
Harry inquired. "A well-intentioned, intelligent young man--with no end of talent."
"For making salads," Shirley added with a sly smile.
"Oh, well, you know," Harry remarked casually, "these are what Senior calls my "salad days.""
Whereupon Shirley rose without a word, carrying off her vases of flowers.
The party at the manor was, like all the club affairs, a decided success. Never had the old place looked so gay and animated, since those far-off days of its early glory.
The young people coming and going--the girls in their light dresses and bright ribbons made a pleasant place of the lawn, with its background of shining water. The tennis court, at one side of the house, was one of the favorite gathering spots; there were one or two boats out on the lake. The pleasant informality of the whole affair proved its greatest charm.
Mr. Allen was there, pointing out to his host the supposed end of the subterranean pa.s.sage said to connect the point on which the manor stood with the old ruined French fort over on the New York side. The minister was having a quiet chat with the doctor, who had made a special point of being there. Mothers of club members were exchanging notes and congratulating each other on the good comradeship and general air of contentment among the young people. s.e.xtoness Jane was there, in all the glory of her best dress--one of Mrs. Shaw"s handed-down summer ones--and with any amount of items picked up to carry home to Tobias, who was certain to expect a full account of this most unusual dissipation on his mistress"s part. Even Betsy Todd condescended to put on her black woolen--usually reserved for church and funerals--and walk about among the other guests; but always, with an air that told plainly how little she approved of such goings on. The Boyds were there, their badges in full evidence. And last, though far from least, in her own estimation, Patience was there, very crisp and white and on her best behavior,--for, setting aside those conditions mother had seen fit to burden her with, was the delightful fact that Shirley had asked her to help serve tea.
The princ.i.p.al tea-table was in the studio, though there was a second one, presided over by Pauline and Bell, out under the awning at the edge of the lawn.
Patience thought the studio the very nicest room she had ever been in.
It was long and low--in reality, the old dancing-hall, for the manor had been built after the pattern of its first owner"s English home; and in the deep, recessed windows, facing the lake, many a bepatched and powdered little belle of Colonial days had coquetted across her fan with her bravely-clad partner.
Mr. Dayre had thrown out an extra window at one end, at right angles to the great stone fireplace, banked to-day with golden rod, thereby securing the desired north light.
On the easel, stood a nearly finished painting,--a sunny corner of the old manor kitchen, with Betsy Todd in lilac print gown, peeling apples by the open window, through which one caught a glimpse of the tall hollyhocks in the garden beyond.
Before this portrait, Patience found s.e.xtoness Jane standing in mute astonishment.
"Betsy looks like she was just going to say--"take your hands out of the dish!" doesn"t she?" Patience commented. Betsy had once helped out at the parsonage, during a brief illness of Miranda"s, and the young lady knew whereof she spoke.
"I"d never"ve thought," Jane said slowly, "that anyone"d get that fond of Sister Todd--as to want a picture of her!"
"Oh, it"s because she"s such a character, you know," Patience explained serenely. Jane was so good about letting one explain things. ""A perfect character," I heard one of those artist men say so."
Jane shook her head dubiously. "Not what I"d call a "perfect"
character--not that I"ve got anything against Sister Todd; but she"s too fond of finding out a body"s faults."
Patience went off then in search of empty tea-cups. She was having a beautiful time; at present only one cloud overshadowed her horizon.
Already some tiresome folks were beginning to think about going. There was the talk of ch.o.r.es to be done, suppers to get, and with the breaking up, must come an end to her share in the party. For mother, though approached in the most delicate fashion, had proved obdurate regarding the further festivity to follow. Had mother been willing to consider the matter, Patience would have cheerfully undertaken to procure the necessary invitation. Shirley was a very obliging girl.
"And really, my dears," she said, addressing the three P"s collectively, "it does seem a pity to have to go home before the fun"s all over. And I could manage it--Bob would take me out rowing--if I coaxed--he rows very slowly. I don"t suppose, for one moment, that we would get back in time. I believe--" For fully three minutes, Patience sat quite still in one of the studio window seats, oblivious of the chatter going on all about her; then into her blue eyes came a look not seen there very often--"No," she said sternly, shaking her head at Phil, much to his surprise, for he wasn"t doing anything.
"No--it wouldn"t be _square_--and there would be the most awful to-do afterwards."
When a moment or two later, Mrs. Shaw called to her to come, that father was waiting, Patience responded with a very good grace. But Mr.
Dayre caught the wistful look in the child"s face. "Bless me," he said heartily. "You"re not going to take Patience home with you, Mrs. Shaw?
Let her stay for the tea--the young people won"t keep late hours, I a.s.sure you."
"But I think--" Mrs. Shaw began very soberly.
"Sometimes, I find it quite as well not to think things over," Mr.
Dayre suggested. "Why, dear me, I"d quite counted on Patience"s being here. You see, I"m not a regular member, either; and I want someone to keep me in countenance."
So presently, Hilary felt a hand slipped eagerly into hers. "I"m staying! I"m staying!" an excited little voice announced. "And oh, I just love Mr. Dayre!"
Then Patience went back to her window seat to play the delightful game of "making believe" she hadn"t stayed. She imagined that instead, she was sitting between father and mother in the gig, bubbling over with the desire to "hi-yi" at f.a.n.n.y, picking her slow way along.
The studio was empty, even the dogs were outside, speeding the parting guests with more zeal than discretion. But after awhile Harry Oram strolled in.
"I"m staying!" Patience announced. She approved of Harry. "You"re an artist, too, aren"t you?" she remarked.
"So kind of you to say so," Harry murmured. "I have heard grave doubts expressed on the subject by my too impartial friends."
"I mean to be one when I grow up," Patience told him, "so"s I can have a room like this--with just rugs on the floor; rugs slide so nicely--and window seats and things all cluttery."
"May I come and have tea with you? I"d like it awfully."
"It"ll be really tea--not pretend kind," Patience said. "But I"ll have that sort for any children who may come. Hilary takes pictures--she doesn"t make them though. Made pictures are nicer, aren"t they?"