“Yes, of course,” said Patricia a little sadly, “but—it doesn’t seem quite polite to leave you this way. After you’ve been so kind, and I’ve had such a lovely time—”
“That’s all right,” said the boy, dropping his knife and standing up. “You and I understand, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” The look on his face made it seem as though he had said a great deal more than just those few words, and somehow she knew he understood how her mother would feel and wanted to protect her from unpleasantness. She answered him with a sweet wistful look, assenting to his words, and turned reluctantly to go.
“I’ll drop in now and then and give these flowers a bit of attention sometimes, late, or early, while it’s still dark and no one can see me. And—” he hesitated shyly, “sometime I’m coming to see you, when things are so—that—I can come—honorably!”
She turned back, and her eyes met his with a glad light in them.
“I—shall be—expecting you—sometime,” she said with a little tremble of happiness in her voice. She turned and slid out of the green shelter by the hedge, and he could hear her quick steps on the walk up to the house. Then suddenly there came a strident voice rasping on the quiet evening air, and he shrank behind the trees in the deepest shadow.
Chapter 11
“Well, for pity’s sake! Where did you come from?” said Patricia’s mother sharply. “Mrs. Bellingham just got done telephoning me that you were all going to stay at a roadhouse, where you had had to take refuge from the storm, and have dinner and a dance. I said you might stay if they would bring you back before ten o’clock. And now you come walking in alone! Where is Thorny?”
“I don’t know, Mother. I wasn’t with Thorny when the storm came on. I didn’t go to any roadhouse.”
“Do you mean to tell me that you have been wandering around all this time since that storm came on without seeing Thorny, when he went as your special attendant?”
Patricia came into the house and tried to walk past her mother, but her mother caught her arm and held her.
“Answer me, Patricia! Don’t try to evade me. Where were you during that awful storm?”
“In a pretty cottage, Mother, quite near to the woods. There was a sweet lady there who made me welcome and gave me hot gingerbread to eat, and fresh milk. I’ve had a nice time.”
“But what became of your escort, Thorny?”
“I don’t know, Mother; indeed I don’t!” said the girl, her voice beginning to tremble. “He was very unpleasant. I was ashamed of him the way he acted to my classmates. And then afterwards he was awful! He came where I was picking flowers and told the people I was with that somebody wanted them, and then he grabbed me and kissed me and hugged hard. I was so frightened I didn’t know what to do. Mother, he was disgusting! You wouldn’t have liked him if you had been there! I had an awful time getting away from him. He was just awful. I never will go anywhere with him again! I hate him! Mother, if you had seen him, you would have hated him, too.”
“Nonsense!” said her mother sharply. “As if a kiss or two from a nice boy would hurt anybody! What a baby you are, Patricia! Don’t you realize that you are a fairly pretty girl and you are getting to the age when nice boys will want to kiss you? It is time you grew up and began to act like a lady and not a child anymore. You ought to be proud that such a nice, well-educated, well-mannered boy as Thornton Bellingham wanted to kiss you, instead of making such a fuss!”
“Mother! Please don’t talk that way by the door. Everybody will hear you! Please come inside and shut the door.”
“Shut the door? Why, you poor little silly! What is there in that that the neighbors shouldn’t hear? I certainly am proud that Thorny honored my child by kissing her—”
But suddenly Patricia pushed by her mother and fled up the stairs, bursting into wild noiseless sobs as she went, and in her own room flung herself facedown upon her bed.
Oh, had John Worth heard her mother? Her mother talking about that shameless conduct of Thorny’s as if it were all right! And now the whole horrible experience was down upon her young soul again, as if she could not bear the thought that it had happened in her life.
Suddenly her mother spoke from her open door. “Patricia, get up and wash your face and behave yourself!”
Patricia caught her breath and got up. The lilies of the valley were still in her hand, and she clutched them to her side so that her mother would not notice them as she went toward the bathroom to wash her face. Oh, she didn’t want her mother to bring them into the open and examine them and put a line of questions on them. But Mrs. Prentiss had eagle eyes, and she could ferret out anything when she was on the warpath.
“What is that you are trying to hide behind you, child?” she said sharply. “Is it your lunch basket?” Patricia winced. Now she would have to be examined about that lunch basket. She sighed and lifted up the flowers in all their lovely freshness.
“Well, really, where did you get those lilies? It looks like a bride’s bouquet.”
“They were growing in the yard where the nice lady lives,” said Patricia in a colorless young voice. Oh, if her mother would only forget about the lunch basket and not talk about the flowers.
“Well, they’re very pretty indeed,” said her mother surprisingly. “You may put them down in my Dresden vase in the living room. I’m expecting callers this evening, and it will be nice to have some flowers.”
The doorbell rang while Patricia was washing her hands and face, and her mother went downstairs. She hoped the flowers would be forgotten. She did so want to have them all to herself, at least for tonight. Besides, if the flowers went downstairs, somebody would be sure to ask where they came from and there was no telling but John Worth’s name might come out somehow in connection with the afternoon.
So Patricia washed her face and hands, then bent and laid her lips against the sweet waxen lilies in her drinking glass. She hung a clean towel where it would hide them from anyone casually passing her bathroom door. After that she went and stood at her window. She could catch a glimpse of the front gate if she put her face very close to the glass in the upper window sash and twisted her neck slightly. She watched a long time to see if John Worth was still there behind the evergreens, but the rosiness of the sunset was fading now, and there was no sign of him. Perhaps he had slipped out while she was washing her hands. She hoped and prayed that her mother had not seen him. It seemed too sad to think her day that was to have been so wonderful, and had unexpectedly turned out to be marvelous because of John Worth, might even yet be picked to pieces by her mother and its joy utterly demolished by criticism and ugly commands.
But now came a command from downstairs. The maid came up to say that her mother wanted her to put on her pink dress with the white lace on the ruffles, comb her hair nicely, and come right downstairs and play a piece or two for the callers.
How Patricia hated to be exhibited in this way! It happened so often, too. It seemed to take all the joy out of her music, to have to parade it before people who didn’t care a bit about music.
“Who is down there?” she asked the maid.
“The Warriners,” said the maid. “I don’t think they are staying long. Your mother said to hurry.”
Patricia slid out of her crumpled picnic dress and into her pink one in an instant, reflecting that the Warriners lived in another township and likely wouldn’t have heard of the picnic. She resolved to play as well as she could and as often as she was asked. Perhaps in that way she could distract her mother’s attention for a time from the happenings of the day.
So she went downstairs looking very sweet and pretty, and she played several times. And when at last they said good night, she slipped away unnoticed while her mother stood talking with them at the door.
She went out the side door and into the shadows of the yard, making her way by a circuitous route to the big evergreen trees by the front walk. She slid between their interlacing branches and arrived within the dim sweet aisle between the he
dge on one hand and the trees on the other. Eagerly her feet found the way down the grassy path, and then, going carefully, she stopped and felt through the darkness, until her hand came in contact with the sharp, crisp leaves of the plants. Her fingers brushing lightly the lily bells brought forth that heavenly fragrance of the blossoms. Then her young heart thrilled to think those were hers and she could come down there sometimes and find them growing; that John Worth was going to tend them, at night and early morning when no one was around. It was something all her own that no one else knew anything about. It was pleasant.
“Good night, dear little flowers,” she whispered softly, and then with another touch like a caress she slipped away among the feathery trees, around to the back door, and so upstairs, hoping her mother might forget her various grievances and let her go to her bed in peace.
But she had scarcely reached the haven of her room when her mother arrived at the door.
“Now, Patricia,” she began severely, “I want to understand this matter thoroughly. And first of all I certainly expect a little thanks for the nice basket of luncheon I took the time and trouble to put together for you. Weren’t you surprised at the darling little strawberry tarts I put in, in those cute little paper cups with individual covers? And weren’t those chicken sandwiches delicious?”
Patricia was very still for a minute looking out the window into the night sky with a twinkling star winking at her as if it understood her dilemma. Then her mother spoke again.
“Well? You don’t seem to have even any appreciation.”
“I’m sorry, Mother. I know the lunch you made was very nice. Everything you do like that is always lovely, of course, and I do appreciate what you tried to do for me.”
“What I tried to do for you! Is that all you can say? Haven’t you anything to say about how pretty the basket looked inside, how tempting it was, and how delicious everything tasted?”
Patricia was silent another moment and then she said, “But, Mother, I didn’t see inside the basket at all, and I didn’t have a chance to taste anything that was in it! You remember you gave the basket to Thorny, and that was the last of it so far as I was concerned.”
“Do you mean you deliberately walked away from him and wouldn’t eat your lunch with him? Did you carry your animosity to that extent? I declare you don’t deserve any consideration at all if you acted like that.”
“No, Mother. It was nothing like that. I asked Thorny to give me the basket, and he wouldn’t. He downright refused! And when they all put their baskets together in a pile till lunchtime, he wouldn’t give it up, even then. He just carried it around with him everywhere, and he kept poking his fingers in it and bringing out a sandwich or a piece of cake or a drumstick, until I’m very sure there wasn’t much left in it by lunchtime. And he went off with another girl and gave her pieces, too. You see, I didn’t get a single thing from that basket myself, so I can’t exactly say I was surprised.”
“You mean, of course, that you acted so disagreeable to Thorny that he was obliged to walk with another girl to make you jealous. Is that it?”
“No, Mother, no. Why would I be jealous? I didn’t want to go with Thorny. It was you who must have invited him. You see, the class had voted not to have any outsiders, and it put me in a very uncomfortable position, appearing to bring in someone none of them knew.”
“And so you thought you would get it back on me by being disagreeable to Thorny!”
“Mother! No! Oh, you will not understand.”
“No, I’m afraid I never will understand,” sighed the mother in a deeply hurt tone. “That you should pick out the son of my very dearest friend to dislike is more than I can fathom. A nice, handsome, wealthy, dependable boy, and yet you scorn him! Just because your mother favors him and wants you to have an escort who is from a good family and has some social standing. Just to disappoint me!”
The mother’s voice trembled, and Patricia’s tears flowed copiously. She did love her mother in spite of everything, and she couldn’t bear to hear her talk in that hurt tone. It was worse than her scolding.
Mrs. Prentiss went away at last and left her standing by that dark window crying. Slowly, sadly the daughter prepared for bed, thinking sorrowfully about the day, how eager she had been for it, and how almost everything she had planned had gone awry and been deeply disappointing. Yet there had been a bright ending when the storm came. She wouldn’t have missed that experience in the Worth home, not for all the picnics in the world! And she had the dear valley-lilies!
Her mother came back just then. “Patricia, where did you say that lovely expensive lunch basket is that I took the trouble to buy for you? Surely you didn’t throw it away or leave it behind in the woods.”
“I don’t know where it is, Mother. Thorny must have it. I have not had it in my hands since you gave it to him.”
“Now that is absurd, Patricia. Thorny wouldn’t carry a basket as large as that around with him all day! You must know what he did with it.”
“No, I don’t know, Mother,” she said desperately. “I didn’t see what he did with it.”
“Well, you certainly are a careless girl, after I spent all that money to have a pretty basket for you.”
“I’m sorry, Mother. If you had given it to me, I would have looked after it. But I could not get it away from Thorny, though I tried more than once.”
“Well, I suppose there is no use talking to you as long as you go to that terrible school. You care more for that school than you do for your family. However, I shall be obliged to ask you to use your brains a little and remember where that basket is. And in the morning you and I will go and get Thorny back to those woods and find that basket! And you will apologize to Thorny, too, for the way you have treated him, understand that! I’m not going to have you insulting the son of my best friend.”
Patricia stood very still in the darkness by the window in her little white nightdress until her mother’s footsteps died away behind the living room door, which closed sharply. Then forlornly she dropped on her knees beside her bed.
Patricia was in the habit of saying her prayers at night as she had been taught, but now it came to her that she had been hearing a different kind of prayer today from any she had ever said. She had heard a man talk intimately with God and bring all his concerns and cares and interests to Him as if He were a real father. And John had said that she might do that herself, too. She caught her breath and brushed away the tears.
Tears on her face when she was daring to come to God intimately for the first time! Was that right? But yet, if He was to comfort her and help, if He was the loving, caring God that John had seemed to suggest, might she not hid her face on God’s breast and let her tears tell Him just how sorrowful and perplexed she was? Her earthly father was always touched by the sight of her tears. Perhaps the heavenly Father would care, too, and do something about it.
So with her head down on her clasped hands she prayed:
Oh, dear heavenly Father, won’t You please straighten out this trouble about Thorny? Won’t You please fix it somehow about that nice pretty basket so Mother won’t be so angry with me? Won’t You please make me Your real child, and help me to live so I please You, and if possible my mother, too.
She remembered her lilies and stole into her bathroom to set the glass in the open window. Taking one long cool stem of the flowers back to bed with her, she lay with it against her cheek, the sweet perfume soothing her to sleep.
About that time over in another street, a noisy couple of groups were wending their way home from the roadhouse where they had been dancing. They had had something much stronger to drink than water, and at least Thorny was exceeding boisterous with it all for he had not stopped with a few glasses, and he had reached the affectionate stage. The quiet shy girl who was his excited and half-frightened companion was in a stage between giggling and screaming.
“Oh, stop it, Thorny! I say, stop it!”
And then in real protest.
“Don’t
you do that again! Stop it!”
It wasn’t so far away that Patricia wouldn’t have heard the echo of the screams if she had been awake, but she was sweetly sleeping and did not know.
Chapter 12
John Worth was coming swiftly down the street behind them when he heard the scream. He had been on an errand into the city after planting the lilies and had had to wait for quite a lengthy answer to a letter his father had written to an old friend about the possibility of a part-time job for John next winter in case he should be able to enter college. He had had to come out on the late train and was hurrying because he knew his mother would be awake until he came in.
And then he heard those three sharp screams!
That was Della Bright. Could she be out with Thorny Bellingham! How did she get to know Thorny? She was frightened! That was plain.
He dashed ahead and saw them, struggling there on the sidewalk, Thorny giving a maudlin laugh now and then, two or three others in a group a little farther ahead, laughing inanely.
Yes, that was Thorny, and his mind reverted to the few words he had inadvertently heard from Patricia’s door while he was patting the earth around the lilies. Yes, that was unmistakably Thorny! The hound. The cur! The swine! He could not think of words enough to call him. And poor, backward, stupid Della Bright was getting the worst of it. Thorny had her in his arms now against the fence, and Della was screaming and writhing away from him. Was this what Thorny had dared to do to Patricia, that she had told her mother was so dreadful?
He had wanted to give Thorny what he deserved ever since he was a youngster and had seen him tripping the little boys and girls from kindergarten, making them cry. He had wanted it more as the years went by and he saw the hateful, contemptible acts that Thorny perpetrated on others, always those weaker, less able to cope with him; and especially had he wanted it since that day when he and Patricia had enjoyed that brief skating time together and he knew that Thorny’s torments had been dealt out to her as well. And now it looked as if here was his opportunity! Patricia’s words to her mother about Thorny had sunk into his heart and stirred his deepest sense of outrage. So now he darted in and went to the rescue.
Patricia Page 11
