Patricia

by Grace Livingston Hill

  The party went off “with a bang” as Mr. Prentiss said afterward, because everything had been so well thought out and prepared beforehand.

  When the guests arrived and went down the line in the wide hall, Patricia stood first by the door to greet her classmates and introduce them, first to a grim reluctant mother who had pretended until the last minute that she did not intend to appear at all at the party, and then to her smiling father.

  Mr. Prentiss had his pockets full of little green ribbon bows with cards attached on which were written the names of characters about which they had all studied during the last year. After he had laughingly, cordially, greeted each guest personally, he pinned one of the little bows to their backs and bade them go among the rest and find out be asking questions just who they were supposed to be. Thus was the first awkward moment of stiffness avoided and the guests made to feel at home at once. So the line went rollicking down the hall, and Mrs. Prentiss, watching each one critically, failed to discover the bad manners and illiteracy she had expected to find in young people who had not had the privilege of Miss Greystone’s Select School for Girls. She was quite surprised. One startling incident that made for her further astonishment was the fact that Della Bright was wearing an exact duplicate of the dress she had wanted to get Patricia for a graduating dress. Patricia’s mother was amazed. Why, these girls looked just like other girls! And Jennie McGlynn was wearing the replica of a charming little imported pink organdy; Mrs. Prentiss did not guess that her mother had made it at night after her hard work of the day was over. The evident charm of the young people had made Mrs. Prentiss unbend far more than she had intended. Besides, she was quite intrigued to see what was happening next. For her husband and daughter, failing in getting her cooperation, had not confided their plans to her, and she had been greatly distressed to know what on earth they would do all the evening if they did not dance. She had secretly told the servants to be ready at a moment’s notice to serve the refreshments, if the interest should lag, and she had asked a friend who was a fine player for dances to be ready to run over and supply the accompaniment for dancing in case Patricia found she had to resort to that after all before the evening was over. Therefore she was amazed at the way everything moved on like a performance that had been rehearsed many times and was letter perfect.

  She was even more nonplussed when she discovered by the conversation of the three teachers and the superintendent, who had been the last of the guests to arrive, that she herself also was wearing one of those ridiculous name-bows on her back, and they were bursting with information to impart concerning her namesake.

  But unfortunately Mrs. Prentiss had not been studying history nor the biographies of famous people that winter, and she found that the whole company were so much better informed about the person she was supposed to be than she was herself that she was in despair. These people all seemed to be remarkably intelligent. Perhaps after all there was something in what George had been reiterating all these years, that public school people were sharp and keen and well informed. At least it was something she could say when she had to explain that her daughter had attended public school.

  The first guest who discovered his identity was to ring a tiny bell. Everybody stopped talking when it rang, and one of the boys announced that his name was George Washington.

  With prompt response Mr. Prentiss produced a small hatchet decorated with a bunch of artificial cherries as the prize. There was a good deal of laughter, and then the guests turned with renewed zest each to find out who he was. It was great fun as one by one the guests solved the problem of his or her identity and received an appropriate prize. George Prentiss had enjoyed selecting those prizes.

  It was all very fun, and the little bell rang over and over as more identities were discovered, and then there followed other games, fully as well planned and just as happy.

  Suddenly a halt was called and the company was asked to sit down. It was explained that ten of them, whose names were called, were wanted upstairs for a few minutes, and while they were gone the rest of them were going to indulge in a game of old-fashioned stagecoach. Then each one was named some part of the outfit, and there began cheerful hilarity again. Even Mrs. Prentiss, who had seated herself in a large comfortable chair hoping to rest a little, learned she was to be a bandbox and had to jump up and turn around every time it was named. The story for the game was being ingeniously told by one of the teachers at Patricia’s suggestion, and Patricia, coming down the stairs to make an announcement about a charade that was to follow, was moved almost to tears to see her smiling dignified mother earnestly whirling around as a bandbox and then joining with the whole company in a common whirl as the word stagecoach was mentioned. Patricia felt that her mother was being the grandest sport ever and was convinced in her heart that never again would she have such a terrible prejudice against the public school. She gave a little quick sigh as she wished, oh how she wished, that this party might have come sooner in her life. What happy years those would have been if Mother only had been in sympathy with her school life.

  But there was no time to regret anything now. Down the stairs in hastily improvised costumes, some of which had been thought out beforehand and left convenient for the purpose, came the people who had gone upstairs to get ready for their charade, and Patricia had to hurry into the room and shout out, “And the stagecoach tipped over!” Then she told them that a charade was to follow, a word of five syllables, in six acts, the last one portraying the whole word. Everybody settled down to one of the funniest performances they ever saw, with Mr. Prentiss as chief actor taking the part of an old-fashioned country schoolteacher.

  When the word was finally guessed, and it wasn’t an easy one either, ten more of the company were sent upstairs, in charge again of Mr. Prentiss as coach, and mysteriously a formation of chairs took shape straight across the room, set in place by alert boys. One of the teachers announced that they were going to play “Musical Chairs.” Old stuff, of course, that they all used to play in their kindergarten days, but it seemed just the thing with which to fill in the two or three minutes until the new set of charaders appeared. Patricia had another laugh of joy as she saw her stout mother, marching around the line of chairs to the music, grappling each chair as if it were her last hope of safety, and finally plumping down almost on top of the boy whose mother was a dressmaker. And it came to her suddenly, almost tenderly, that her mother was nothing but a grown-up child, getting back to play again and really enjoying it. So was Father! And her heart thrilled again. They were really having a good time, and no Thorny Bellingham in on it either!

  It was later, while they were seated at the long, long table in the dining room, eating the delightful refreshments—which began with fruit salad and dainty sandwiches and ended with ice cream molds and delightful cakes—that the doorbell pealed through the house. The servant whispered to Mrs. Prentiss that there was a lady at the door who wanted to see her just a moment on some important business.

  Patricia saw her mother frown, and look perplexed, and then slide her chair back and go out as quietly as possible. She wondered if the fly in the ointment had arrived at last. It seemed there had always been a fly in Patricia’s ointment no matter how carefully she guarded it.

  Mrs. Prentiss patted her hair into place as she crossed the living room and stepped out into the hall, brushing a possible cake crumb from her garments. And there was Mrs. Bellingham! Standing on the porch in the shadow, trying desperately to twist her neck so she could see into the dining room.

  “Oh, my dear!” she said gushingly. “So sorry to have troubled you. I though, of course, you’d be upstairs and the maid would tell me to go right up where we could talk uninterrupted. I hadn’t an idea you’d be down here participating in the festivities!”

  “Oh, why certainly, I had to be down. I couldn’t let Patricia have a gathering here of her schoolmates and not be present, you know. Sorry, but won’t you come in? I really must go back to the dining room before they m
iss me.”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t, thank you. I just ran in to tell you that we’re expecting Thorny back next week and I’m arranging to give him a welcoming dinner. I wanted to ask if Patricia will be the hostess for me. I think it would be so precious to have one of his old girls for a hostess, and I had to be sure Patricia would do it before I go ahead. I want to send out the invitations early in the morning, and I thought I’d put her name in the paper as hostess. Just some of Thorny’s old friends, you know. People darling Patricia knows well. She will, won’t she?”

  “Oh, my dear! That’s so sweet of you, but—what night did you say it is? Thursday? Now, that’s too bad! That’s the night of Patricia’s commencement, and of course as she’s graduating it’s most important to her. I know she will be heartbroken, but she really couldn’t, you see. If it was only the next night, you know—”

  “It couldn’t be the next night,” said Mrs. Bellingham coolly. “Thorny is going on a fishing trip up to Nova Scotia and he leaves early Friday morning. Couldn’t Patricia possibly get excused from that commencement? It’s only a public school, and I know you don’t think much of it. I don’t suppose Patricia would care about staying for the exercises, would she? She’d get her diploma just the same, and the exercises wouldn’t matter, would they?”

  “Oh, my dear! Patricia would be utterly heartbroken to miss her commencement. It is the goal for which she has striven all the years, and besides, they are really very nice young people indeed. We have been having a delightful time with them. Just come in and meet them, won’t you, and you’ll understand.”

  “No, really, I couldn’t,” said Mrs. Bellingham, quite coldly. “I didn’t suppose you felt that way. I supposed, of course, I would be doing you a favor to get her out of it. I thought you didn’t approve of the public school.”

  “Well, I didn’t choose it, of course, but since Patricia has been working so hard through all these years, it would be quite disappointing to her to be unable to finish in the regular way. And, I must admit since I have come to know the young people, they really are quite charming. Sorry to disappoint you, darling.”

  “Yes? Well, I think Thorny will be deeply disappointed in your daughter if she refuses the highest honor I could give her at his coming-home party. I’m sure he has counted on Patricia. But people change. As I said when I heard you had consented to letting that sweet little girl attend a public institution, people change. And environment has a great deal to do with it. Well, good-bye. I won’t detain you any longer.”

  Mrs. Prentiss went back to the dining room with a troubled expression. She was distressed that she had had to refuse her friend, and dear Mrs. Bellingham didn’t seem to understand!

  After she got back to her seat in the dining room and was finishing her ice cream, which was in the form of a white dove with a leaf of green in its yellow bill, she began to think it over. That would have been a wonderful chance for Patricia to shine, being hostess at Thorny’s party. But of course, there would have been a terrible uproar if she had tried to put that over in the face of all her husband had said. Besides, it would be a pity to disappoint Patricia; she seemed so fond of all these nice young people and it was the last time she was to be with them. And really, if Mrs. Bellingham wanted Patricia so much she could have managed it so that Thorny would stay over another day. Surely she would do something about it. Anyhow, tomorrow would be time enough to think up a solution.

  So Mrs. Prentiss enjoyed her ice cream and laughed with the rest over the comical after-dinner speeches. For Mr. Prentiss was acting the part of the toastmaster now and calling on different ones to make speeches. And George was really very clever! His wife had never had a chance to hear him, when he went out to business dinners and banquets, though she had heard now and then that he had to speak and she had often wondered what he would find to say. But now she could see he was quite versatile, and it surprised her, for he had been so silent through the years, except when he now and then broke forth in argument. She looked up at him in wonder and admiration. She almost fancied she saw in him some semblance to the George she married. Why hadn’t he ever been willing to go out with her in her set, attend dinners and shine among the people she liked?

  So she watched in wonder as George little by little got a speech or a funny skit from everyone present. Even the shyest girl among them sang a frightened little song. Several of the boys made good impromptu speeches on subjects he gave them. They really had a nice time, and Patricia’s mother beamed around on Jennie McGlynn and Della Bright and all the others and quite enjoyed the admiration they gave her as Patricia’s mother and the mistress of this lovely mansion. Mrs. Prentiss couldn’t remember when she had had as good a time. It was just as interesting as a bridge party, and one didn’t have to think half as hard nor worry so much about whether one was doing the right thing.

  So the evening went on to the last half hour when the young people gathered around the piano and sang school songs, until even Mrs. Prentiss began to see why they loved their school. Patricia stood in the doorway with her father’s arm around her and sang with all her might, and her father was singing, too, some of the old songs that he used to sing when he was young; and how he enjoyed them.

  They trooped out into the night under a bright moon, and after calling good night they stood in front of the house and sang:

  Good night, Patricia, good night!

  We’ve had a lovely time, Patricia,

  We like your people fine, Patricia,

  Good night, Patricia, good night!

  The words rang out sharp and clear in the still moonlight and echoed all along the street, and even Mrs. Prentiss felt a thrill of exultation, during the instant of stillness after the last note had died away. And then sharp and clear there came:

  Pat, Pat, Patricia!

  Rah, rah, rah!

  You’re the real thing

  And that is why we sing!

  Pat, Pat, Patricia!

  Patricia stood there with her eyes shining and tears very near the surface. When they began “Pat, Pat, Pat,” Patricia winced. She was so afraid her mother would object to their calling her that.

  But Mrs. Prentiss, with her head high and satisfaction in her eyes, only said, “There! I hope Mrs. Bellingham heard that!”

  Chapter 16

  The actual commencement was almost a heartbreak to Patricia. Now that she had just come to the place where they loved her and seemed to believe in her and understand her, it was the end, and she would see them no more. But she went quietly, sweetly through the rest of the days. The class day had its sad pleasantries, when all of them felt their relationship together in a class as they never had before, looking into a new, strange, almost awesome future and wondering what it was to hold for them. College for some, business for others, teaching and perhaps homemaking for most of them. They realized as they gathered for the final evening event that they were standing at that strange place between childhood and grown-up life; that tomorrow, when though they might look the same, act in the same way, even feel the same, they would be different. Life would be all changed for them. They would no longer make their way in the early mornings down the wide pleasant street to the wide brick schoolhouse to spend their days, happily working and playing, learning and being merry. They would no longer meet one another day after day, knowing pretty well what was to be in the next hour, the next day, the next month. The future was all untried for them, and Hope stood wide-eyed at the door to lead them on, to joy or disappointment.

  Patricia had an essay to read on the meaning of life. She had written it with much care, finding many things in her Bible reading that helped her to write. Her English teacher had looked at her curiously after reading it and asked her if she really believed in God as she had said in her essay, or whether that was just imagination. Patricia looked at her with earnest eyes and said that she really did believe, that God had seemed to be very near her as she wrote, and she honestly believed that God had a plan for each life, and if one missed it by w
anting one’s own way instead of His, it was harder in the end.

  The teacher looked at her almost wistfully and said, “Well, Patricia, it is very beautifully written, and since you really believe that, we’ll leave it as it is. I wish I could believe that myself.” And she sighed heavily and looked very sad. Patricia prayed about her that night when she got home, but at the time she only answered:

  “Well, it’s only what the Bible says. It’s all there. I think if you will look for it you will find it yourself. It makes life a lot lovelier, for then you find out it’s all true.” And then with a smile she had slipped away with her paper. But she had studied her essay a great deal and prayed over it, too, and when the time came for her to give it she did not need to read it. With her wide eyes upon that unexpectedly large audience, she simply spoke those words that were written from her heart, for somehow she had a feeling that she must bring them all her message and convince them of its truth.

  And once as she looked around upon that sea of faces, she was sure she saw John Worth’s face, way at the back under the gallery in a shadow. He was tall and a good deal thinner, as if life had taken hold upon him and there were grown-up trials he had to face. But the lamps were in his eyes, lit, and shining straight into hers for a single brief second as their glances met. It was just as she was giving her last few words, and somehow she knew he liked what she had said. Then she was done and had to bow and go back to her seat while the hushed audience suddenly broke forth into applause. She didn’t want that applause. It seemed so out of place. Their silent listening had been so much better.

  And then when attention was taken from her and she might look for John again, he was no longer there. Afterward she heard one of the sophomore boys say, “John Worth was here. Did you see him, Sam?” And Sam replied, “Yep, I saw him once, but then he disappeared.”