Patty's Fortune

by Carolyn Wells

  CHAPTER XI

  A BUBBLE BURST

  One afternoon, about a week later, Philip Van Reypen called at theFairfields home in New York. Being informed that Patty was out, he askedto see Mrs. Fairfield, and Nan received him in the library.

  “So sorry Patty isn’t here,” she said, as she greeted him cordially.“She’ll be sorry, too.”

  “Perhaps it’s just as well,” returned Philip. “I’d like a little talkwith you. Look here, Mrs. Nan, has Patty said anything to you aboutgoing on the stage?”

  “Unless you mean a Fifth Avenue stage, she certainly has not,” and Nansmiled at the idea.

  “No, don’t laugh, it’s serious. You know I met the crowd coming downfrom Maine, at Boston, and I was with them one evening. Well, theytalked,—jestingly, it’s true,—but they talked about Patty being inlight opera some time,——”

  “Why, Philip, how perfectly ridiculous! It was entirely a joke, ofcourse.”

  “I don’t think so. It seems, as near as I can make out, that Farnsworthput her up to it.”

  “Bill Farnsworth! Oh, I can’t think he would.”

  “Well, Patty herself said to me that Farnsworth said she wasgood-looking enough, and then, somehow, she got mixed up with asinging-person of some sort, who used to be an actress. Farnsworth knewher in San Francisco, I believe. And she infatuated Patty to such anextent that——”

  “I never heard such nonsense! Why hasn’t Patty told me all this?”

  “That’s just the point. If there were nothing to it, she would have toldyou. That’s why I fear she has taken the notion seriously.”

  “I can’t think it yet. I’ll ask her when she comes home.”

  “I’m not sure that would be wise. Why don’t you wait, and see if shedoes anything in the matter. Elise Farrington said that a manager hadasked to see Patty regarding the subject.”

  “A manager!” Nan fairly gasped. “Why, this is awful! What would herfather say?”

  “But wait a minute, let’s look at the thing rationally. You know howsusceptible Patty is to a new idea or a new influence. I think thisex-actress had bewitched the child, and to chide her would only make hermore determined to stand by her new friend. Why not deal morediplomatically. Watch Patty, and if she does anything queer orinexplicable, follow it up, and see what it means. Of course, you know,Mrs. Nan, that I’m actuated only by honest interest in Patty’s welfare.”

  “Oh, I know that, Philip; and I’m very glad you came to me with thisstory first. Perhaps it won’t be necessary to speak of it to Mr.Fairfield, at least, not yet. He’s busy, and a little bothered just nowwith some business matters; and if I could straighten out thisfoolishness without letting it worry him, I’d be glad.”

  “We’ll do it,” and Phil spoke heartily. “We’ll save that little goosiefrom herself. Of course, you know, I worship the ground she walks on,and I’m going to win her yet. You think I’ve a chance, don’t you?”

  “I don’t see why not, Phil. There’s nobody I’d rather see Patty marrythan you, but she is determined she won’t listen to such a thing yet.She says she has too much fun being a belle, to tie herself down to anyone man. And perhaps she is right. She’s only twenty, and while that’squite old enough to marry, if she wants to, yet it’s young enough towait a while if she prefers.”

  “I quite agree to that. It’s only that I want to be on the spot when shedoes make up her mind to marry. Of course she will, eventually.”

  “Of course. And you have every chance. Now, as to this other matter, doyou think Mr. Farnsworth instigated the idea?”

  “I gathered that from different things that were said. And the actressperson was his friend. And I know that he took Patty over to PolandSpring House to see her.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Kent,—Maude Kent. They call her Maudie.”

  “Queer Patty hasn’t mentioned her. I agree with you, that looks as ifshe took the thing seriously.”

  “Oh, perhaps not,” and Philip rose to go. “It may be I exaggerate thedanger. But I’m so fearful of that capricious nature of hers,—you nevercan tell what whim she’ll fly at next.”

  “That’s true, and I’m so much obliged to you for putting me on myguard.”

  Nan said nothing to her husband on this subject, but she watched Pattymore carefully. She was clever enough not to let the supervision beapparent, but it was unremittent.

  However, nothing transpired to rouse her suspicions in any way. Pattywas her own gay, sunny self, planning all sorts of gaieties andemployments for the winter season. She had by no means given up orneglected her club, that was for the purpose of giving pleasure toshop-girls or other working women, and she thought up plans for raisingmoney for that philanthropic purpose.

  She kept up her membership in the Current Events Club and in the MusicalSociety to which she belonged, and she showed no undue interest in thenew light operas that were successively put upon the stage. She attendedmost of these, but she had always had a liking for them and that did notseem to Nan a special indication of histrionic intent.

  But one evening, as the three Fairfields sat at dinner, Patty was calledto the telephone. She left the table and after a time returned withsparkling eyes and rosy cheeks.

  “Dear people,” she said, smiling at her parents, “I’ve a surprise tospring on you. Will you be astounded to learn that your foolish littlePatty had a chance to make good in the world? To have a career that willmean fame and celebrity.”

  Nan almost choked. An icy hand seemed to clutch at her throat. The hourhad struck, then. And with all her watchfulness she had not succeeded inpreventing it!

  “It perfectly wonderful,” Patty was rattling on, “you can hardly believeit,—I hardly can, myself, but I’m going to be a great singer.”

  “You’re that now, Kiddie,” said her father, who had no idea of what layback of this introduction.

  “Yes, but more than that! Oh, Nan, it’s too glorious! Daddy, what _do_you think? I’m going to sing in light opera!”

  “You’ve often done that,” he returned, thinking of her amateurperformances. “One of your favourite Gilbert and Sullivan ones, or moremodern this time?”

  Patty laughed happily. “You don’t get it yet, Dadsy. I mean in a realopera, on the real stage.”

  “What! Just say that again! My old ears must be failing me.”

  “I’m going to be a real prima donna! On the stage of a real theatre!”

  “Not if I see you first. But elucidate this very extraordinarystatement.”

  “I will.” But even as she began to speak, Patty caught sight of Nan’sface, and the lack of sympathy, nay, more, the look of positivedisapproval she saw there, made her pause a moment. Then she went on, alittle defiantly, “I suppose it will strike you queer at first, butyou’ll get used to it. Why, Dads, I found out, while I was up inMaine——”

  “Down in Maine,” corrected her father.

  “Well, any old way to Maine, but I discovered that I have a voice! andmore, I have a knack, a taste, a talent, even, for the stage. And,—I’mgoing to devote my life to it.”

  “Devote your life to it!” And Mr. Fairfield’s tone was scathing. “Ifyou’re so anxious for a life of devotion, I’ll put you in a convent. Buton the stage! Not if the Court knows herself!”

  Patty smiled tolerantly. “I was afraid you’d talk like that at first. Itshall now be my duty and my pleasure to make you change your intelligentmind. Nan, you’ll help me, won’t you?”

  Patty asked this with some misgiving, for Nan did not look entirelyhelpful.

  “Help you to go on the stage?” was the smiling retort, for Nan quicklydecided to keep the discussion in a light key, if possible. “Yes,indeed, after some reputable physician has signed a certificate of yourlunacy,—but _not_ while you’re in your right mind.”

  “Now, Nancy, don’t go back on me! I depend on you to talk father over,though he won’t need much argument, I’m sure.�
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  “Look here, Patty,” and her father spoke seriously; “tell me just whatyou’re driving at.”

  “Only this, Dad. I’ve a chance to go on the stage in a new light operaand I want to go.”

  “Whose opera?”

  “Do you mean the composer?”

  “I do not. I mean the manager or owner, or whoever is getting you mixedup with it.”

  “Well, the manager is Mr. Stengel——”

  “Stengel! Why, Patty, he’s a—a _real_ manager!”

  “That’s what I said,” and Patty beamed at him. “And he is coming heretonight to see me,—to see _us_ about it.”

  “Coming here!”

  “Yes, don’t be so overcome. You didn’t know your little goose girl wouldturn out a swan, did you?”

  “But there’s a misapprehension somewhere. You see, Mr. Stengel is _not_coming here tonight.”

  “Yes, he is, I’ve just telephoned that he might.”

  “You telephoned Stengel!”

  “Well, not directly to him, but I told my friend, Miss Kent, that shemight bring him.”

  “Who? What friend?”

  “Miss Kent. I met her up—down in Maine. She’s a musical—oh, DaddyFairfield, _don’t_ look as if you’d been struck by lightning!”

  “But I have, and I’m trying to crawl out from under the débris. Now thefirst thing you do, my child, you fly back to that telephone, and calloff that little engagement for this evening. Tell your Maine friend thatcircumstances over which you have _no_ control make it impossible foryou to receive her and the illustrious manager this evening.”

  “But, Father,——”

  “At once, Patty, please.”

  Mr. Fairfield spoke in a tone that Patty had not heard since she was alittle girl, but she well remembered it. She rose without a word and didas she was bid.

  “Be very gentle with her, Fred,” Nan murmured, as soon as Patty was outof hearing.

  “I will,” and Mr. Fairfield flashed a glance of amused understanding athis wife. “Did you know about this thing?”

  “Only vaguely. I’ll tell you some other time. But quash the schemedecidedly, won’t you?”

  “_Rather!_”

  Patty came back, her face a little flushed, her lips a little pouting,but quite evidently ready for the fray.

  “I did as you told me, Father,” she began, “but I think you’ll be sorryfor the stand you’ve taken.”

  “Perhaps so, girlie, but I don’t want my sorrow to interfere with mydigestion. So let’s drop the whole subject till after dinner.”

  It had always been a rule in the Fairfield household never to discussunpleasant subjects at table. So Patty tacitly agreed and during therest of the meal there was only gay conversation on light matters.

  “Now, then,” said Mr. Fairfield, when dinner was over, and the threewere cosily settled in the pleasant library, “tell me over again andtell me slow.”

  And so, quietly, but still with that air of determination, Patty toldabout Maude Kent, and the concert at Poland Spring and how Mr. Stengelwas interested and wanted to see her with a view to starring her inlight opera.

  Mr. Fairfield sighed, for he foresaw no easy task in trying to persuadehis wilful daughter to his own point of view.

  “Patty, dear,” he said, “do you remember when you were a little girl, Igave you a lecture on proportion?”

  “I do, Daddy, and I’ve never forgotten it!”

  “Well, put it in practice now, then. Can’t you see that it is out of allproportion to think of an ignorant, untrained girl like you stepping allat once into the rôle of a successful prima donna?”

  “But more experienced people than you think I can.”

  “No, they don’t, dear. This manager knows your limitations, he knows youhave no stage lore or experience, and if he wants you, it is onlybecause of your dainty and charming personality, and because there is acertain prestige in the fact of a society girl going on the stage. But,as soon as the novelty was over, he would fling you aside like aworn-out glove.”

  “How do you know? You never were a manager?”

  “Patty, men of experience in this world don’t have to adopt a professionto know many salient points regarding it. I shall have to ask you totake my word that I do know enough of managers and their ways to know mystatement is true. Nor are the managers altogether wrong. It is theirbusiness to get performers who interest the public, and they have aright to use their efforts toward that end. But I don’t want my daughterto be sacrificed to their business acumen. Now, will you drop this wildscheme without further argument, or shall we thresh it out further?”

  “Why, I’ve no intention of dropping it, Dad,” and Patty looked amazed atthe idea.

  “Oh, Lord, then I suppose we must go through with the farce. All right,go back to the telephone and have the Stengel man come, right here andnow.”

  “May I? Oh, Dadsy, I knew you’d give in!”

  “Give in nothing! I want to show you what a little ninny you are.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Nan, as Patty rose and walked toward the telephonetable; “suppose we don’t ask Mr. Stengel, at first,—but just have MissKent come and tell us about it.”

  “Good!” agreed Mr. Fairfield. “She can’t come alone,—Patty, tell herwe’ll send the car for her. I’d like to go straight ahead with thisinteresting matter.”

  So Patty telephoned and Maude Kent said she would come. The car wasdespatched and in a tremor of impatience Patty waited for her friend’sarrival.

  The elder Fairfields made no further allusion to the subject, but talkedon other matters till the guest was announced.

  Maude Kent bustled in, and greeted Patty effusively, kissing her on bothcheeks. She acknowledged introduction to the other two with gaycordiality, and seated herself in the middle of a sofa, flinging openher satin evening wrap. She wore a light-coloured gown, with a profusionof lace and a great deal of jewelry. Patty looked at her a littlesurprised, for she gave a different impression from the girl she hadseen before. She couldn’t herself quite define the difference, but Maudeseemed less refined, louder, somehow, here in the Fairfield home, thanshe had in the big hotel.

  And Patty wished she would act more reserved and less chatty andfamiliar.

  “You see, Mr. Fairfield,” Maude ran on, “we just _must_ have our Pattyin the profesh. We need her, and I assure you she’ll make good.”

  “In just what way, Miss Kent?” asked Fred Fairfield, his keen eyestaking in the visitor’s every move.

  “Oh, she can sing, you know; and she’s a looker, all right; and she hascharm—oh, yes, decided charm.”

  “And is this enough, you think, to assure Mr. Stengel’s giving her, say,a ten-year contract as a prima donna?”

  “Well, hardly that!” and Maude laughed, heartily. “You men will haveyour little joke. But he would give her a good place in the chorus tostart with, and doubtless Patty would work up. Oh, yes, she could workup, I feel sure. Patty is not afraid of hard work, are you, dearie?”

  “And it is as a chorus girl that Mr. Stengel wishes to engage Patty?”Fred Fairfield’s voice was quiet, but his eyes shot gleams ofindignation.

  “Why, yes, Mr. Fairfield; she couldn’t expect a higher position atfirst.”

  “And would she be assured of having it in time?”

  “If she caught on with the public,—or, if Mr. Stengel took a liking toher personally——”

  “That will do, Miss Kent. I’m sure you will forgive me if I decline topursue this subject further. My daughter most certainly will not go intoany venture of Mr. Stengel’s, or accept any other position on the stage.The incident is closed.”

  There was something in Fred Fairfield’s face that forbade the indignantrejoinder Maude Kent was about to make. And it was with a suddenaccession of dignity that she rose to her feet and drew her wrap abouther.

  “Very well,” she said; “it is closed. As a matter of explanation, let mesay that my interest in the thing is a legitimately financial
one. Mr.Stengel gives me a fair commission on the young ladies I persuade tojoin his chorus. As I am self-supporting, this means something to me.Moreover, I am personally fond of Miss Fairfield, and I am sorry not tohave achieved the triumph of her consent. But since it is impossible, Ican only bid you all good evening.”

  With the air of an offended queen, Maude Kent swept from the room, andthe Fairfield chauffeur took her back to her home.

  “Patty, you everlasting little goose!” said Fred Fairfield as he tookhis daughter in his arms, “forget it! There’s no harm done, and nobodyneed ever know how foolish you were. Your bubble’s burst, your aircastle is in ruins, but your old father is still here to look after you,and laugh with you over your ridiculous schemes. Now, forget this oneand start another!”