“I think not,” said Patty, gently, and then she bade him a courteous but definite and final good night.
CHAPTER XI
PATTY IN TEARS
Patty’s bedroom was a pretty, cheery and charming place. The sunlight came in through delicate, lacy curtains, the furniture and appointments were all that a fastidious taste could desire, and the pictures and trinkets scattered about were beautiful and attractive. There were always fresh flowers in the vases and the whole effect was conducive to happiness and contentment.
Yet across the lace-covered bed was the outstretched form of somebody who had flung herself there in a very abandonment of woe. Somebody with golden curly hair, from which the boudoir cap had fallen unheeded; somebody who was digging a little wet mop of a handkerchief into eyes that flowed with tears like a very freshet of rain. Somebody who was shaking and quivering with great racking sobs that were all the more agonising because they were silent.
Patty was crying. And with her ever-active efficiency, she was making a thorough and complete success of it. Now and then, she would pause, sit up and vigorously wipe her eyes, then she would fling herself back into the nest of damp pillows and start all over again. Her pretty negligée of light blue silk was crumpled into a shocking state; one little slipper had fallen off, and though her face was buried in the pillows her heaving shoulders and tumbled curls still bore witness to the woe that was torturing her soul.
Suddenly, she became angry, and sat up straight, fists clenched, eyes blazing,—fairly gritting her teeth in a wave of indignation.
Then again, grief, deep, hopeless grief overcame her, and back she fell, fresh tears welling up and spilling over.
“Patty,” cried Bumble, bouncing into the room, “I’ve a splendid plan! Let’s get a whole lot of top balloons, and—for the love of Michaelovitch Paderewski! what is the matter?”
Curiously Bumble looked at the shaking figure on the bed. With a frightened face, she came cautiously toward Patty, unable to believe her eyes at the sight of her cousin’s attitude.
“Get out! go ’way!” wailed Patty, in such hollow tones that they scarce seemed her own at all.