Carolyn Wells - Patty's Social Season

“Something useful?” said Elise.

“No; not a suit of flannel underwear or a pair of shoes! But a pretty necktie or handkerchief, if you like, or even a little gold pin, or a silver one.”

“Or a picture or cast,” said Clementine.

“Yes,” and Patty nodded approval; “but it ought to be a little thing that would look like a luncheon souvenir and not like a Christmas present. I think they ought to be all alike.”

“So do I,” said Mona, “and I think a little pin in a jeweler’s box will be the prettiest; and then a lovely bunch of flowers at each plate, and an awfully pretty place-card.”

“Oh, it will be beautiful!” cried Patty, jumping up and dancing about the room; “but I must flit, girls,—I have an engagement at five. Wait, what about motors? I’m sure we can use our big car.”

“And ours,” said all the rest together.

“Well, we’ll need two,” said Clementine, “and two of us girls and two guests can go in each. We’ll see which cars can be used most conveniently; perhaps our fathers may have something to say on that subject. But we can arrange all such things by telephone to-morrow. The main thing is to get our guests.”

“Oh, we’ll do that,” said Patty, “if we have to go out into the highways and hedges after them.”

The next morning Patty started off in her own little electric runabout with Miller, the chauffeur.

She let him drive, and gave the address, as she stepped in, “The Monongahela Art Embroidery Company,” adding a number in lower Broadway.

The correct Miller could not suppress a slight smile as he said, “Where I took you once before, Miss Patty?” And Patty smiled, as she said, “Yes, Miller.”

But it was with a different feeling that she entered the big building this time, and she went straight to department B. On her way she met the red-headed boy who had so amused her when she was there a year ago.

He greeted her with the same lack of formality that had previously characterised him.

“Is youse up against it again?” he inquired, grinning broadly. “I t’ought youse didn’t get no cinch, and had to can de whole projick.”

“I’m not on the same ‘projick’ now,” said Patty, smiling at him. “Is department B in the same place?”

“Sure it is,” and for some reason the boy added, “miss,” after a momentary pause, which made Patty realise his different attitude toward her, now that she wore a more elaborate costume, than when he had seen her in a purposely plain little suit.

“And is the same lady still in charge of it?”

“Yep; dey ain’t nuttin’ lessen dynnimite goin’ to boost Mis’ Greene outen o’ here!”

“Then Mrs. Greene is the lady I want to see,” and Patty threaded her way through the narrow passages between the piled up boxes.

“No pass needed; she’s a free show,” the boy called after her, and in a moment Patty found herself again in the presence of the sharp-faced, tired-looking woman whom she had once interviewed regarding her embroidery work.

“This is Mrs. Greene, isn’t it?” said Patty, pleasantly.

“Yes, I am,” snapped the woman. “You don’t want work again, do you?”

“No,” said Patty, smiling, “I come this time on quite a different errand.”

“Then you don’t want to see me . I’m here only to give out work. Did Mr. Myers send you?”

“No, I came of my own accord. Now, Mrs. Greene, forget the work for a moment, and let me tell you what I want.”

“If it’s subscribin’ to any fund, or belongin’ to any working woman’s club run by you swell ladies, you can count me out. I ain’t got time for foolishness.”

“It isn’t anything like that,” and Patty laughed so merrily that Mrs. Greene’s hard face softened in spite of herself. “Well, what is it?” she asked, in a less belligerent tone.

“It’s only this,” and though Patty’s errand had seemed to her simple enough before she came in, she now began to wonder how Mrs. Greene would take it. “Some friends of mine and I are asking three or four people to lunch with us and take a little motor ride on Saturday, and I want you to come as my guest?”

“What!” and Mrs. Greene’s face was blank with amazement, but her manner betokened an impending burst of wrath.

Patty realised that the woman’s pride was up in arms at the idea of patronage, and she was at her wit’s end how to make the real spirit of her invitation understood.

As it chanced, she unwittingly took the right tack. So earnest was she that her lips quivered a little, and her eyes showed a pleading, pathetic expression, as she said, “ Please don’t misunderstand me, Mrs. Greene. If you would enjoy it, I want you to come to our party on Saturday as our welcome guest. If you wouldn’t enjoy it,—just say so,—but—but don’t scold me!”

Mrs. Greene looked puzzled, and then the hard, stern mouth broke into an actual smile.

“Well, I declare,” she said, “I do believe you’ve got a real heart!”

“And I do believe that you have!” exclaimed Patty. “And, now that we know the truth about each other, you’ll come, won’t you?”

“Tell me about it,” and the speaker seemed still uncertain, though wavering.

So Patty told her, honestly and straightforwardly, the circumstances of the party, and wound up by saying, “I truly want you, Mrs. Greene, for the simple reason that I want you to enjoy the afternoon,—and for no other reason.”

“And I’ll come, and be awful glad of the chance! Why, I’ve never had a ride in a motor car in my life, and I’ve never eaten in one of those fandangle hotels; and the way you put it, I’m just crazy to go!”

“Do you have holiday Saturday afternoon?”

“Yes, all these downtown places do.”

“Very well, then, I shall expect you at the Plaza at one o’clock. Ask for Miss Galbraith, and they will show you right up to her rooms.”

“Land! it does seem too good to be true! Say, Miss Fairfield, I’ve only got a black mohair to wear,—will that do?”

“Of course it will. Maybe you’ve a pretty bit of embroidery or something to lighten it up a little.”

“Yes, I’ve got a linjerry collar and cuffs that I’ve just been achin’ to wear ever since my sister gave them to me last Christmas.”

“Then I shall expect you on Saturday, and I’m so glad.”

With a smiling bow, Patty started away, but she saw by Mrs. Greene’s face, there was something left unsaid.

“What is it?” she asked, kindly, stepping back again to the counter.

“Say, Miss Fairfield,” and Mrs. Greene twisted her fingers a little nervously, “don’t think this is queer,—but won’t you wear one of your real pretty dresses? I do like to see a pretty, stylish dress,—and I never get a chance.”

“Of course I will,” said Patty, heartily; “I’ve a brand-new one that I’ve never worn, and I’ll honour the occasion with it, on Saturday.”

And then Patty went away, greatly pleased at her success.

“Had quite a buzz, didn’t yer?” observed the red-headed boy, looking at Patty with curiosity, as she passed him.

“Yes, I did. By the way, young man, what is your name?”

“Rosy; should think you’d know without askin’,” and he grabbed a bunch of his red hair with a comical grin.

“Well, I didn’t know whether it was that or Freckles,” said Patty, who was moved to chaff him, by reason of his good-natured camaraderie .

“Might just as well ‘a’ been,” and Rosy grinned wider than ever.

Patty nodded a good-bye, and went on, rapidly turning over in her mind a new plan that would include Rosy in some future happy Saturday afternoon. But this plan must wait for development, as the coming Saturday was enough to occupy her thoughts for the present.