“I hope you can, Patty; I do hope you can. You know, Mona is dignified and all that, and as proud as they make them. Nobody would dare to speak to her if she didn’t want them to; but, Patty, here’s the trouble. There’s a young man at the hotel named Lansing. He’s not especially attractive, and yet, somehow, he has gained Mona’s favour. I have told my girl that I do not like him, but she only laughs and says carelessly that he’s all right. Now, I mustn’t detain you longer, my child; there are people waiting to speak to you. But, some time, I want to have a little talk to you about this, and perhaps you can help me in some way. For I believe, Patty, that that Lansing man is trying to win my girl for the sake of her money. He has all the appearances of a fortune-hunter, and I can’t let Mona throw herself away on such.”
“I should think not!” exclaimed Patty, indignantly. And then Mr. Galbraith moved away to give his place to other guests who were arriving.
CHAPTER II
AT THE DANCE
At eight o’clock that same evening, Patty came down to her own dinner party. An hour’s rest had freshened her up wonderfully, and she had changed her little white frock for a dinner gown of pale green chiffon, sparkling with silver embroidery. It trailed behind her in a most grown-up fashion, and she entered the drawing-room with an exaggerated air of dignity.
“Huh,” cried Roger; “look at grown-up Patty! Isn’t she the haughty lady? Patty, if you put on such airs, you’ll be old before your time!”
“Airs, nothing!” retorted Patty, and with a skipping little dance step, she crossed the room, picked up a sofa pillow, and aimed it deftly at Roger, who caught it on the wing.
“That’s better,” he said. “We can’t have any of these grande dame airs. Now, who is the lucky man who is to take you out to dinner? Me?”
“No, not you,” and Patty looked at him, critically; “you won’t do, and neither will Kenneth, nor Phil Van Reypen, nor Mr. Hepworth.” She looked at them each in turn, and smiled so merrily that they could take no offence. “I think,” she said, “I shall select the best-looking and best-natured gentleman, and walk out with him.” Whereupon she tucked her arm through her father’s, and led the way to the dining-room, followed by the rest of the merry crowd.
The dinner was a beautiful one, for Nan had spared no pains or thought to make it worthy of the occasion. At the girls’ places were beautiful souvenirs, in the shape of fans of carved ivory with lace mounts, while the men received attractive stick-pins.
“Shall you feel like dancing after all this gaiety, Patty?” asked Van Reypen.
“Well, rather!” declared Patty. “Why, I’d feel like dancing if I’d been through a—civil war! I could scarcely keep still when the orchestra was playing this afternoon, and I’m crazy for to-night’s dance to begin.”
“Frivolous young person, very,” murmured Philip. “Never saw such devotion to the vain follies of life! However, since you’re determined to dance, will you honour me with the first one to-night?”
“Why, I don’t mind, if you don’t,” said Patty, dimpling at him.
“And give me the second,” said Kenneth and Roger simultaneously.
“I can’t do these sums in my head,” said Patty; “I’ll get all mixed up. Let’s wait till we get our dance orders, and fill them up, hit or miss.”
“You be the miss and I’ll try to make a hit,” said Philip.
“What waggery!” exclaimed Patty, shaking her head. “If you’re too clever, Philip, I can’t dance with you. When I dance, I keep my mind on my feet, not on my head.”
“That explains your good dancing,” said Mr. Hepworth, laughing. “Perhaps, if I could keep my mind on my feet, I could dance better.”
“Oh, you’re too highminded for such low levels,” laughed Patty, while Mona, who was rather practical, said, seriously, “Do you really think about your feet all the time you’re dancing, Patty?”
“No,” returned Patty; “sometimes I have to think about my partner’s feet, to keep out of the way of them.”
When they returned to the drawing-room, they found it had been cleared for the dance, and soon the evening guests began to arrive.
Patty again stood by Nan to receive them, and after greeting many people she knew, she was surprised to find herself confronted by a stranger. He was a thick-set, stockily-built man, several years older than most of Patty’s friends. He had black hair and eyes and a short black moustache and a round, heavy type of face. His black eyes were of the audacious sort, and he flashed a glance of admiration at Patty. Before she could speak, or even offer her hand, Mona sprang forward, saying, “Patty, this is my friend Mr. Lansing. I took the liberty of inviting him to your dance. Mrs. Fairfield, may I present Mr. Lansing?”
Patty was angry. This, of course, must be the man of whom Mr. Galbraith had spoken, and, aside from the fact that he seemed undesirable, Patty felt that Mona had no right to invite him without asking permission from her hostess.
But Nan knew nothing of all this, and she cordially greeted the stranger because he was a friend of Mona’s. Patty recovered her equilibrium sufficiently to say, “How do you do, Mr. Lansing?” in a non-committal sort of way, but she couldn’t refrain from giving Mona a side glance of reproof, to which, however, that young woman paid no attention.
In another moment Mona had drifted away, and had taken Mr. Lansing with her. Patty turned to speak to Nan about him, but just then some more guests arrived; and then the dancing began, and Patty had no further opportunity.
As Patty had promised, she gave the first dance to Philip Van Reypen; and after that she was fairly besieged by would-be partners. The fact that she was hostess at her own coming-out ball, the fact that she danced beautifully, and the fact that she was so pretty and charming, all combined to make her, as was not unusual, the most popular girl present.
“Anything left for me?” asked Roger, gaily, as he threaded the crowds at Patty’s side.
“I saved one for you,” said Patty, smiling at him; “for I hoped you’d ask me, sooner or later.”
Roger gratefully accepted the dance Patty had saved for him, and soon after he came to claim her for it.
“I say, Patty,” he began when they were whirling about the floor, “who is that stuff Mona has trailing after her?”
“Moderate your language, Roger,” said Patty, smiling up at him, and noticing that his expression was very wrathy indeed.
“He doesn’t deserve moderate language! He’s a bounder, if I ever saw one! What’s he doing here?”
“He seems to be dancing,” said Patty, demurely, “and he doesn’t dance half badly, either.”
“Oh, stop your fooling, Patty; I’m not in the mood for it. Tell me who he is.”
Patty had never known Roger to be so out of temper, and she resented his tone, which was almost rude. Now, for all her sweetness, Patty had a touch of perversity in her nature, and Roger had roused it. So she said: “I don’t know why you speak like that, Roger. He’s a friend of Mona’s, and lives at the Hotel Plaza, where she lives.”
“The fact that two people live in the same big hotel doesn’t give them the right to be friends,” growled Roger. “Who introduced them, anyhow?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said Patty, her patience exhausted; “but Mr. Galbraith knows him, so it must be all right.”
Patty was not quite ingenuous in this speech, for she knew perfectly well, from what Mr. Galbraith had said to her, that it was not all right. But she was irritated by Roger’s demeanour, and perversely disagreed with him.
“Well, I don’t believe he’s all right; I don’t like his looks a bit, and, Patty, you know as well as I do, that the Galbraiths are not quite competent always to select the people best worth knowing.”
“Oh, what a fuss you are, Roger; and it’s hardly fair when you don’t know anything at all about Mr. Lansing.”
“Do you?”
“No,” and then Patty hesitated. She did know something,—she knew what Mr. Galbraith had told her. But she was not of a mind to tell this to Roger. “I only met him as I was introduced,” she said, “and Mona has never so much as even mentioned him to me.”