“She sure was! And I’d like an explanation, Herron. I thought I’d let the matter pass until I could see you alone, but I think it’s better to have it out here and now. You brought that person to us, you fixed up the matter, now tell us about it.”
George Herron burst into laughter.
“I own up!” he confessed, “I did it! Alone I did it! Oh, it was a joke!”
Patty looked puzzled. “A man?” she said; “masquerading?”
“Just that, dear lady,” and Herron laughed afresh. “I couldn’t help it! There was no woman on the premises save the housekeeper’s daughter, who was only a girl of fifteen or so. There was no way to keep you girls there for luncheon except by providing a chaperon. So,—I did my best. Don’t look so shocked. It was only a harmless jest. Surely, the quondam chaperon was in no way objectionable; and, as Miss Fairfield admits, she—or he—filled a long-felt want!”
“But who was she—or he?”
“One of the Club attendants. He’s on the house force, sort of manager of the heating and electricity departments. Well, I was put to it, as you know, and I was asking him what to do, and he suggested,—or to be accurate, he fell in with my suggestion,—that he slip into one of the housekeeper’s gowns and play ’Charley’s Aunt.’ So he did.”
“What do you mean, ‘Charley’s Aunt’?” asked Helen.
“That’s an old play, all college chaps know, where a young man played chaperon just as Munson did today. Not going to be mad about it, are you, Miss Fairfield?”
“Of course she isn’t!” cried Helen; “I think it’s a great joke! And, as you say, we couldn’t have stayed there, otherwise! Oh, Patty, don’t get on your Puritanic high horse! It was only a regard for a convention, anyway, and the convention was regarded!”