CHAPTER XVII LORRAINE’S ENDEAVOUR

Patty’s sunny disposition and invariable good humour exerted a beneficial influence on Lorraine, though the effects were slow and gradual. But the girl herself was trying to be more optimistic in her general attitude toward life, and to a degree she was succeeding.

But one afternoon she came up to Patty’s apartment to sit with her for a while, and the expression of her face was quite as dark and gloomy as of yore.

Patty noticed this at once, but did not remark it; instead, she began chatting in a merry vein, hoping by this means to cheer up her dismal caller. But it was of no avail, for Lorraine evidently had a trouble of some sort on her mind.

At last she exclaimed, in a stormy way, “I just hate Elise Farrington!”

“Oho,” thought Patty to herself, “so that’s the trouble, is it?”

But aloud she only said: “Why do you hate her? She doesn’t hate you.”

“Yes she does. She just snubs me right and left, and she doesn’t invite me to her Casino, or anything.”

“Now look here, Lorraine, you are unjust and unfair. Elise doesn’t snub you, or if she does, it’s because you don’t give her a chance to be nice to you. You’re my friend, but Elise is my friend, too, and I want fair play all around. I’ve seen you with Elise Farrington, and you snub her worse than she does you; and I don’t wonder she doesn’t invite you to see her!”

Patty didn’t often scold Lorraine as hard as this, but her sense of justice was aroused, and she determined to give it full play for once.

Lorraine began to cry, but Patty knew they were not tears of repentance, so she went on:

“It’s perfectly silly, Lorraine, the way you act. Here you might just as well belong to the Grigs, and have lots of good times; but just because you prefer to consider yourself snubbed at every tack and turn, when nobody means anything of the sort at all, of course you can’t belong to a club whose only object is to be merry and gay.”

“I don’t want to belong to your old Grigs! I think they’re silly, and I hate ’em all!”

“You do want to belong, and you don’t think they’re silly! Now look here, Lorraine, I’m just about at the end of my patience. I’ve done everything I could for you, to make you more like the other girls, and though you’re nicer in some ways than you used to be, yet you’re so foolishly sensitive that you make yourself a lot of trouble that I can’t help. I don’t mind telling you, now that we’re on the subject, that the girls are all ready to take you in as a member of the Grigs, if you’ll be nice and pleasant. But we don’t want any disagreeable members, or any members who insist on thinking themselves snubbed when nobody had any such intention.”

Lorraine stopped crying and looked at Patty with a peculiar expression.

“Do you really mean,” she said, “that you’d take me into the Grigs if I were not so bad-tempered?”

“Well, since you choose to put it that way, that’s just about what I do mean,” said Patty, politely ignoring the fact that Lorraine had declared she didn’t want to be a Grig.

“Well, then I will be better-natured, and stop being so hateful to the girls. Just make me a Grig and I’ll show you.”

“No, Lorraine, that won’t do; you’ve got to prove yourself first. Now, I’ll tell you what—you be real nice to Elise and make her like you, or rather, let her like you, and then there’ll be no trouble about getting you into the society.”

“All right,” said Lorraine, hopefully, “but what can I do? Elise won’t speak to me now.”

“Oh, pshaw! yes, she will. I’ll guarantee that she’ll meet you half-way. Now here’s a plan; you must do something like this. Get your mother to let you invite Elise to come to see you some afternoon, and then invite the Harts and me, too, and have a real jolly afternoon. They’ll all come, and then if you’re nice and pleasant, as you know perfectly well how to be, the girls can’t help liking you. Oh, Lorraine, you’re such a goose! It’s a great deal easier to go through the world happy and smiling than to mope along, glum and cross-grained.”

“It is for you, Patty, because you’re born happy, and you can’t help staying so. But I’m different.”

“Well then un-different yourself as soon as you can. It’s silly—that’s what it is—it’s worse than silly—it’s wicked not to be happy and gay. I’ve fooled with you long enough, and now I’m going to make you behave yourself! Laugh now, laugh at once!”

Patty’s gaiety was infectious, and Lorraine laughed because she couldn’t help it. Then they fell to making plans for the little afternoon party, and Lorraine’s spirits rose until there was nothing to choose between the merriment of the two girls.

“And I’ll tell you what,” said Patty; “we’re making a scrap-book for Roger Farrington; he’s in the hospital, you know. And if you will have some funny pictures or stories ready to put in it, you needn’t worry any further about Elise’s liking you. She’s the most grateful girl for little things I ever saw.”

“Oh, I can do that,” said Lorraine; “I’d love to.”

Before Lorraine invited the girls to visit her, Patty had talked with each one and made them promise to accept the invitation, and do all that they could to help along the good cause, which, as she explained, was a truly Griggish one.

So the four girls went to Lorraine’s one afternoon, all in a merry mood. The little party was a great success, for Lorraine at her best was a charming hostess, and her mother was very kind and hospitable.

Each girl brought some contribution for Roger’s scrap-book, and Patty was secretly delighted when she found that Lorraine’s donation was quite the jolliest of all.

Lorraine was clever with her pencil, and with her needle, and she had designed some funny little football players by cutting pictures of football celebrities from the papers. These she had dressed up in bits of real material, had made the footballs of real leather, and made tiny silk flags in college colours.

Elise was delighted beyond all measure at the clever little figures, and when Lorraine, a little bashfully, offered a poem she had written to go with them, the girls all declared she was a genius. It was a humorous poem, with a football refrain, and Elise said that she was sure Roger would commit it to memory, and quote it on every possible occasion.

Happily the girls went to work, cutting and pasting, drawing and sketching, writing and sewing, on the various pages until the scrap-book became a marvellous work of art.

Patty asked them to leave one or two pages blank for Mr. Hepworth’s funny sketches, and promised too, that he would decorate the cover.

A few days later, Mr. Hepworth spent the evening with the Fairfields, and willingly agreed to add his share to the book.

He filled a couple of pages with drawings funny enough to make a whole hospital laugh, and then adorned the cover with a conventional design of football players and Grigs, surrounding a patient-looking patient in a hospital cot.

While Mr. Hepworth was sketching, Patty related with glee how much Lorraine had helped with the book, and how really amiable and pleasant the girl had begun to be. As Mr. Hepworth was a frequent visitor at the Fairfields’, he knew a good deal about Lorraine, and was much interested.

“If Lorraine is really trying to live The Merry Life,” said Mr. Fairfield, “she ought to be aided and encouraged in every possible way. Now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Patty. Next Saturday afternoon I’ll take you and Lorraine to the circus. We’ll take Grandma along, because the circus is one of her favourite forms of amusement, and we’ll take Hepworth, as a reward for this truly beautiful art work he’s accomplishing this evening. Now, we’ll invite one more favourite friend and you may select anyone you like.”

“Oh, papa, let’s ask Kenneth. He’s working awfully hard just now, and he’d enjoy the fun so much.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Hepworth, cordially, as he looked up from his drawing, “ask young Harper—he’s always an addition to any party.”

“I’m delighted to go,” said Grandma. “I’ve thought about it ever since they put up the big posters. I certainly do enjoy a circus.”

“Your tastes are certainly frisky, Grandma,” said Mr. Fairfield. “Now, for a lady of your dignified appearance an oratorio or a nice lecture on psychology would seem more fitting.”

“When you invite me to those, I may go also,” said Grandma, gaily; “but next Saturday afternoon I consider myself engaged for the circus. You’ll have a box, I suppose.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Fairfield, “we’ll have anything that’ll add to your pleasure; not omitting pop-corn and pink lemonade, if they’re to be had.”

“Oh, papa!” cried Patty, “this kind of a circus doesn’t have those things. You’re thinking of a country circus. The circus in Madison Square Garden isn’t like that.”

“Well, at any rate,” said Mr. Hepworth, “I hope it has all the traditional features in the way of clowns, and freaks, and acrobats, and other trained animals.”

“Yes, they have all of those,” said Grandma, eagerly, “for I saw them on the posters.”

They all laughed at this, and declared it was more fun to take Grandma to the circus than to take a child.

Both Lorraine and Kenneth accepted the invitation with pleasure, and Kenneth volunteered to make Lorraine his especial charge, and if the fun of the circus flagged, to amuse her with some ready-made fun of his own.

Saturday was a beautiful, bright day, and Mr. Fairfield promised to come home to luncheon, in order that they might all start together, in ample time for the performance.

About eleven o’clock a card was brought up to Patty by the hall boy.

“Miss Rachel Daggett,” she read in dismayed tones. “Grandma! she has come to stay a few days! She said she would, you know, the last time we were in Vernondale, and now she’s here. Oh, I wish she had chosen any other day! She wouldn’t let me set the time, but said she would come whenever the mood struck her.”

“Well, my dear, you can’t help it. Send word for her to come up, and make the best of it.”

“But, Grandma, what about the circus? She won’t go with us—I can’t imagine Miss Daggett at a circus—and somebody will have to stay home with her. I’d just as lief stay myself as to have you or papa stay, and of course we can’t leave her alone.”

“Perhaps she’ll want to lie down and rest after her journey,” suggested Grandma.

“Not she! Miss Daggett never lies down to rest. I can’t imagine it! No, I think we’ll have to give up the whole trip. Perhaps papa can exchange the box for some other date.”

By this time the visitor was at the door, and Patty and Grandma greeted her pleasantly.

Miss Daggett had been their next-door neighbour in Vernondale, and Patty was really fond of the queer old lady, but she only wished she had chosen some other day to visit them, or had at least let them know beforehand.

“I told you I’d come when the mood took me,” said Miss Daggett, as she removed her antiquated bonnet.

All of Miss Daggett’s apparel was what Patty called ancient and honourable. Her gown and cloak were of the richest material, but made in fashions of many years ago. Although a woman of wealth, Miss Daggett was subject to whims, one of which was to wear out the dresses she had before buying any new ones. As this whim had followed another whim of lavish extravagance, the dresses in question were of rich velvets and brocades which did not wear out rapidly. The result was that Miss Daggett went about, looking as if she had stepped out of an old picture.

Patty was quite accustomed to her old-fashioned garb, but suddenly realised that in the hotel dining-room it would be rather conspicuous.

But this thought didn’t bother her much, for she knew it was something she couldn’t help, and Miss Daggett had the dignified air of a thorough gentlewoman, notwithstanding her erratic costume.

“I’ve come to stay three days,” she announced in the abrupt way peculiar to her; “I shall go home Tuesday morning at eleven o’clock. Let me look at you, Patty. Why, I declare, you look just as you always did. I was afraid I’d find you tricked out in all sorts of gew-gaws and disporting yourself like a grown-up young lady.”

“Oh no, I’m still a little girl, Miss Daggett,” said Patty, “and I’m just as fond of fun and frolic as ever.”