Patty Blossom Part 23

Patty went up to her room, and when Nan appeared, shortly, with a most attractive supper tray, she was in kimono and cap, waiting for it.

"My, but this is good! I tell you, Nan, those Cosmickers know how to think, but they don't know a thing about foods."

"Your Blaney looks well nourished. But, he didn't strike me as very erudite. Why, Patty, he didn't know who those poets _were_, I asked him about!"

"Oh, yes, he did. He didn't want to discuss 'em, that's all."

"Nonsense! I saw his expression. He didn't know them, I tell you. He has never read a word of them."

"Well, he doesn't have to. He can write his own poems."

"Does he? Is he a poet, really?"

"Yes, Nan, he is. And he's all right, and Alla is, too. I don't like all their a.s.sociate souls, but I like a lot of them, and you would too, if you saw them in their proper setting. Anyhow, their old symposium has tired my little brain all up, and with many thanks for your kind charity,--what there was of it--I'll let you go, if you really feel you must."

Nan laughed, for there was deep good feeling between these two, then she kissed Patty good night and went off with the empty tray.

CHAPTER XII

AN ODD DINNER PARTY

A few nights later, Patty invited the two Blaneys to dinner. Nan wanted to meet Alla, and Mr. Fairfield, too, expressed a desire to see these new friends of Patty's.

"Me and the two companies is three," said Patty, making up her party, "and you and Dad are five. Who'd make a good sixth?"

"Only six?" asked Nan. "Why not a big dinner?"

"No; I don't think so. You see, the Blaneys don't fit in with everybody, and I want them to have a good time."

"Oh, I mean ask their own sort of people."

Patty looked up, quickly. "Now, Nan, don't be unpleasant. You're implying that their kind of people are not as nice as our kind, and that hurts my feelinks, and you know it. I want you wid me on this,--not agin me."

"I am, Patty. I don't mean to be horrid. Well, have six, if you like.

Who else?"

"Chick Channing, I think. He's so adaptable and all-round nice with everybody. Phil hates the Blaneys, and----"

"Mr. Farnsworth?"

"I don't think he'd like them, either. And,--too,--Bill isn't very chummy with me lately."

"Why not?"

"Dunno."

"Did you quarrel?"

"Now, Nan, don't ask such leading questions. We didn't exactly quarrel, and yet again, I suppose we did quarrel,--at least, I did,--he didn't. I sort of snubbed him, and he took it more seriously than I meant, if you call that a quarrel. But anyway, he wouldn't stand for the Blaney crowd, I'm sure of that."

"All right, ask Chick. As you say, he'll chum with anybody. He's a splendid dinner guest."

Channing accepted the invitation with pleasure, and the party was made up.

"I don't want anything eccentric or foolish," Patty said to Nan, regarding the appointments, "but I do want it aesthetic and artistic."

"You can arrange it as you like, dear," Nan said, kindly, and Patty did.

The dining-room was dimly lighted, and the table decoration consisted of an enormous bronze placque, which Patty took down from the hall wall. This held a small amount of water, and on it floated three pansies. The table candles wore deep purple shades, and Nan privately thought the whole effect dull and gloomy enough, but she said no word of criticism.

Patty appeared, in a flowing, robe-like costume of pale violet chiffon, and wore pansies in her hair over each ear.

"Well!" exclaimed her father, as he saw her, "I thought you could wear any colour, but take my advice, Kiddie, and never brave lavender again!

It makes you look old and sallow."

"Nothing of the sort!" denied Patty. "You're unaccustomed to seeing me in it, that's all."

Then Channing came, and Patty had to bear his disapproving glances.

"You're an angel in anything," he said, "but you're least angelic in that mawkish mauve. You look like a member of the Art Students' Union."

Patty didn't mind their chaff, and only smiled good-naturedly, and then the Blaneys came.

Patty was used to their aesthetic effects, but the others weren't, and though the greetings were cordial and courteous, the elder Fairfields needed a moment to recover their poise. But Chick Channing was always to be depended upon, and he plunged into gay conversation that broke the ice and did away with all self-consciousness.

Nor was it surprising that the appearance of the brother and sister should strike an observer as startling. Alla was swathed in yellowish-brown stuff. Her gown seemed to have no shape or design, just draperies that wrapped her about in mummy fas.h.i.+on. Long sleeves came well down over her hands, a high collar rose over her ears, and the long skirt twined itself round her feet, till she could scarcely walk. The material was a woolly serge, and no bit of colour or tr.i.m.m.i.n.g relieved the severity. She wore no ornament save a hideous necklace of great, ugly stones, that fell down as far as her knees, and carried a dilapidated old fan of peac.o.c.k feathers. Patty had never seen her look so unattractive, for even in her eccentric garb, she was usually picturesque. But in this brown thing she was utterly without charm.

Sam Blaney, too, looked ill-dressed and out of place. He had bowed to convention to the extent of wearing evening clothes, but they were not of correct cut, and did not fit well, and he wore an absurd tie of soft silk, of his favourite light green hue, which gave him the appearance of a caricature.

However, the two were most affable and agreeable, and their soft, low voices murmured pleasantries suitable to the occasion.

At dinner the conversation turned on the approaching Christmas celebration of the Cosmic Centre.

"What a funny name," said Channing. "Sounds like a small village in New England."

"So it does," returned Sam Blaney, taking the jest in good part. "But we call our club that modest little name because we think ourselves the centre of the Universe."

"I always admire self-respect," said Mr. Fairfield, smiling; "I hold that a man or a club with full appreciation of self-merit can't go far wrong."

"And Cosmic Centre is so very expressive," said Channing. "I don't see how you could have well found anything more inclusive."

"Mrs. Fairfield calls you the Cosmickers," put in Patty, smiling at Nan.

"And a very good name," agreed Alla. "Cosmickers sounds a bit like picknickers, and often that's what we are."

"What is your real end and aim?" asked Mr. Fairfield, seriously.