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Just Patty

<h2>IV</h2> <h3>The Third Man from the End</h3> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/o.png" width-obs="98" height-obs="100" alt="O" title="O" /></div> <div class='p2'>H, Patty! Did you bring us some wedding cake?"</div> "Did you have any adventures?" Conny and Priscilla, with the dexterity of practice, sprang upon the rear step of the hearse as it turned in at the school gate, and rolled up the curving drive to the porte-cochère. The "hearse" was the popular name for the black varnished wagonette which conveyed the pupils of St. Ursula's from church and station. It was planned to accommodate twenty. Patty and her suit-case, alone in the capacious interior, were jolting about like two tiny peas in a very big pod. "Adventures!" she called back excitedly. "Wait till you hear!" As they came to a stop, they were besieged by a crowd of blue-coated girls. It was afternoon recreation, and the whole school was abroad. The welcome that she received, would have led an onlooker to infer that Patty had been gone three months instead of three days. She and her two postilions descended, and Martin gathered up his reins. "Come on, youse! All who wants a ride to the stables," was his hospitable invitation. It inundated him with passengers. They crowded inside—twice as many as the hearse would hold—they swarmed over the driver's seat and the steps; and two equestriennes even perched themselves on the horses' backs. "What's the adventure?" demanded Conny and Priscilla in a breath, as the cavalcade rattled off. Patty waved her hand toward the suit-case. "There it is. Take it upstairs. I'll be with you as soon as I've reported." "But that isn't your suit-case." Patty shook her head mysteriously. "If you tried a thousand years you'd never guess who owns it." "Who?" Patty laughed. "Looks like a man's," said Conny. "It is." "Oh, Patty! Don't be so exasperating. Where'd you get it?" "Just a little souvenir that I picked up. I'll tell you as soon as I've interviewed the Dowager. Hurry, and slip in while Jelly isn't looking." They cast a quick glance over their shoulders toward the gymnasium instructor, who was arguing fat Irene McCullough into faster movements on the tennis court. Miss Jellings was insistent that "recreation" should be actively pursued out of doors. The two could easily have obtained permission to greet Patty's return inside; but it was the policy of the trio never to ask permission in minor matters. It wasted one's credit unnecessarily. Priscilla and Conny turned upstairs lugging the suit-case between them, while Patty approached the principal's study. Ten minutes later she joined her companions in Seven, Paradise Alley. They were sitting on the bed, their chins in their hands, studying the suit-case propped on a chair before them. "Well?" they inquired in a breath. "She says she's glad to see me back, and hopes I didn't eat too much wedding cake. If my lessons show any falling off—" "Who owns it?" "The man with the black eyebrows and the dimple in his chin who sang the funny songs third from the end on the right hand side." "Jermyn Hilliard, Junior?" Priscilla asked breathlessly. "Not really?" Conny laid her hand on her heart with an exaggerated sigh. "Truly and honest!" Patty turned it over and pointed to the initials on the end. "J. H., Jr." "It is his!" cried Priscilla. "Where on earth did you get it, Patty?" "Is it locked?" "Yes," Patty nodded, "but my key will open it." "What's in it?" "Oh, a dress suit, and collars, and—and things." "Where'd you get it?" "Well," said Patty languidly, "it's a long story. I don't know that I have time before study hour—" "Oh, tell us, please. I think you're beastly!" "Well—the glee club was last Thursday night." They nodded impatiently at this useless piece of information. "And it was Friday morning that I left. As I was listening to the Dowager's parting remarks about being inconspicuous and reflecting credit on the school by my nice manners, Martin sent in word that Princess was lame and couldn't be driven. So instead of going to the station in the hearse, I went with Mam'selle in the trolley car. When we got in, it was cram full of men. The entire Yale Glee Club was going to the station! There were so many of them that they were sitting in each other's laps. The whole top layer rose, and said perfectly gravely and politely: 'Madame, take my seat.' "Mam'selle was outraged. She said in French, which of course they all understood, that she thought American college boys had disgraceful manners; but I smiled a little—I couldn't help it, they were so funny. And then two of the bottom ones offered their seats, and we sat down. And you'll never believe it, but the third man from the end was sitting right next to me!" "Not really?" "Oh, Patty!" "Is he as good-looking near to, as he was on the stage?" "Better." "Are those his real eyebrows or were they blacked?" "They looked real but I couldn't examine them closely." "Of course they're real!" said Conny indignantly. "And what do you think?" Patty demanded. "They were going on my train. Did you ever hear of such a coincidence?" "What did Mam'selle think of that?" "She was as flustered as an old hen with one chicken. She put me in charge of the conductor with so many instructions, that I know he felt like a newly engaged nursemaid. The Glee Club men rode in the smoking-car, except Jermyn Hilliard, Junior, and he followed me right into the parlor car and sat down in the chair exactly opposite." "Patty!" they cried in shocked chorus. "You surely didn't speak to him?" "Of course not. I looked out of the window and pretended he wasn't there." "Oh!" Conny murmured disappointedly. "Then what happened?" Priscilla asked. "Nothing at all. I got out at Coomsdale, and Uncle Tom met me with the automobile. The chauffeur took my suit-case from the porter and I didn't see it near to at all. We reached the house just at tea time, and I went straight in to tea without going upstairs. The butler took up my suit-case and the maid came and asked for the key so she could unpack. That house is simply running over with servants; I'm always scared to death for fear I'll do something that they won't think is proper. "All the ushers and bridesmaids were there, and everything was very jolly, only I couldn't make out what they were talking about half the time, because they all knew each other and had a lot of jokes I couldn't understand." Conny nodded feelingly. "That's the way they acted at the seaside last summer. I think grown people have horrid manners." "I did feel sort of young," Patty acknowledged. "One of the men brought me some tea and asked what I was studying in school. He was trying to obey Louise and amuse little cousin, but he was thinking all the time, what an awful bore it was talking to a girl with her hair braided." "I told you to put it up," said Priscilla. "Just wait!" said Patty portentously. "When I went upstairs to dress for dinner, the maid met me in the hall with her eyes popping out of her head. "'Beg pardon, Miss Patty,' she said. 'But is that your suit-case?' "'Yes,' I said, 'of course it's my suit-case. What's the matter with it?' "She just waved her hand toward the table and didn't say a word. And there it was, wide open!" Patty took a key from her pocket, unlocked the suit-case, and threw back the lid. A man's dress suit was neatly folded on the top, with a pipe, a box of cigarettes, some collars, and various other masculine trifles filling in the interstices. "Oh!" they gasped in breathless chorus. "They belong to him," <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Connie'">Conny</ins> murmured fervently. Patty nodded. "And when I showed Uncle Tom that suit-case, he nearly died laughing. He telephoned to the station, but they didn't know anything about it, and I didn't know where the glee club was going to perform, so we couldn't telegraph Mr. Hilliard. Uncle Tom lives five miles from town, and there simply wasn't anything we could do that night." "And just imagine his feelings when he started to dress for the concert, and found Patty's new pink evening gown spread out on top!" suggested Priscilla. "Oh, Patty! Do you s'pose he opened it?" asked Conny. "I'm afraid he did. The cases are exact twins, and the keys both seem to fit." "I hope it looked all right?" "Oh, yes, it looked beautiful. Everything was trimmed with pink ribbon. I always pack with an eye to the maid, when I visit Uncle Tom." "But the dinner and the wedding? What did you do without your clothes?" asked Priscilla, in rueful remembrance of many trips to the dressmaker's. "That was the best part of it!" Patty affirmed. "Miss Lord simply wouldn't let me get a respectable evening gown. She went with me herself, and told Miss Pringle how to make it—just like all my dancing dresses, nine inches off the floor, with elbow sleeves and a silly sash. I hated it anyway." "You must remember you are a school girl," Conny quoted, "and until—" "Just <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'wail'">wait</ins> till I tell you!" Patty triumphed. "Louise brought me one of her dresses—one of her very best ball gowns, only she wasn't going to wear it any more, because she had all new clothes in her trousseau. It was white crêpe embroidered in gold spangles, and it had a train. It was long in front, too. I had to walk without lifting my feet. The maid came and dressed me; she did my hair up on top of my head with a gold fillet, and Aunt Emma loaned me a pearl necklace and some long gloves and I looked perfectly beautiful—I did, honestly—you wouldn't have known me. I looked at least twenty! "The man who took me in to dinner never dreamed that I hadn't been out for years. And you know, he tried to flirt with me, he did, really. And he was getting awfully old. He must have been almost forty. I felt as though I were flirting with my grandfather. You know," Patty added, "it isn't so bad, being grown up. I believe you really do have sort of a good time—if you're pretty." Six eyes sought the mirror for a reflective moment, before Patty resumed her chronicle. "And Uncle Tom made me tell about the suit-case at the dinner table. Everybody laughed. It made a very exciting story. I told them about the whole school going to the Glee Club, and falling in love in a body with the third man from the end, and how we all cut his picture out of the program and pasted it in our watches. And then about my sitting across from him in the train and changing suit-cases. Mr. Harper—the man next to me—said it was the most romantic thing he'd ever heard in his life; that Louise's marriage was nothing to it." "But about the suit-case," they prompted. "Didn't you do anything more?" "Uncle Tom telephoned again in the morning, and the station agent said he'd got the party on the wire as had the young lady's case. And he was coming back here in two days, and I was to leave his suit-case with the baggage man at the station, and he would leave mine." "But you didn't leave it." "I came on the other road. I'm going to send it down." "And what did you wear at the wedding?" "Louise's clothes. It didn't matter a bit, my not matching the other bridesmaids, because I was maid of honor, and ought to dress differently anyway. I've been grown up for three days—and I just wish Miss Lord could have seen me with my hair on the top of my head talking to men!" "Did you tell the Dowager?" "Yes, I told her about getting the wrong suit-case; I didn't mention the fact that it belonged to the third man from the end." "What did she say?" "She said it was very careless of me to run off with a strange man's luggage; and she hoped he was a gentleman and would take it nicely. She telephoned to the baggage man that it was here, but she couldn't send Martin with it this afternoon because he had to go to the farm for some eggs." Recreation was over, and the girls came trooping in to gather books and pads and pencils for the approaching study hour. Everyone who passed number Seven dropped in to hear the news. Each in turn received the story of the suit-case, and each in turn gasped anew at sight of the contents. "Doesn't it smell tobaccoey and bay rummish?" said Rosalie Patton, sniffing. "Oh, there's a button loose!" cried Florence Hissop, the careful housewife. "Where's some black silk, Patty?" She threaded a needle and secured the button. Then she daringly tried on the coat. Eight others followed her example and thrilled at the touch. It was calculated to fit a far larger person than any present. Even Irene McCullough found it baggy. "He had awfully broad shoulders," said Rosalie, stroking the satin lining. They peered daintily at the other garments. "Oh!" squealed Mae Mertelle. "He wears blue silk suspenders." "And something else blue," chirped Edna Hartwell, peering over her shoulder. "They're pajamas!" "And to think of such a thing happening to Patty!" sighed Mae Mertelle. "Why not?" bristled Patty. "You're so young and so—er—" "Young!—Wait till you see me with my hair done up." "I wonder what the end will be?" asked Rosalie. "The end," said Mae unkindly, "will be that the baggage man will deliver the suit-case, and Jermyn Hilliard, Junior, will never know—" A maid appeared at the door. "If you please," she murmured, her amazed eyes on Irene who was still wearing the coat, "Mrs. Trent would like to have Miss Patty Wyatt come to the drawing-room, and I am to take the suit-case down. The gentleman is waiting." "Oh, Patty!" a gasp went around the room. "Do your hair up—quick!" Priscilla caught Patty's twin braids and wound them around her head, while the others in a flutter of excitement, thrust in the coat and relocked the suit-case. They crowded after her in a body and hung over the banisters at a perilous angle, straining their ears in the direction of the drawing-room. Nothing but a murmur of voices floated up, punctuated by an occasional deep bass laugh. When they heard the front door close, with one accord they invaded Harriet Gladden's room, which commanded the walk, and pressed their noses against the pane. A short, thick-set man of German build was waddling toward the gate and the trolley car. They gazed with wide, horrified eyes, and turned without a word to meet Patty as she trudged upstairs lugging her errant suit-case. A glance told her that they had seen, and dropping on the top step, she leaned her head against the railing and laughed. "His name," she choked, "is John Hochstetter, Jr. He's a wholesale grocer, and was on his way to a grocers' convention, where he was to make a speech comparing American cheese with imported cheese. He didn't mind at all not having his dress-suit—never feels comfortable in it anyway, he says. He explained to the convention why he didn't have it on, and it made the funniest speech of the evening. There's the study bell." Patty rose and turned toward Paradise Alley, but paused to throw back a further detail: "He has a dear little daughter of his own just my age!" <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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