CHAPTER XVIII THE CIRCUS PARTY

Patty made that last remark by way of introducing the subject of the circus, for her only hope was that by some miraculous whim Miss Daggett would consent to go with them. Their party numbered only six, and Patty knew that the box would hold eight, so there was room enough if Miss Daggett would go. But as Patty looked at her guest’s stern, angular face, she didn’t see anything that led her to feel very hopeful.

“We had expected, Miss Daggett,” she said, “to go to the circus this afternoon. Would you care to go with us?”

“To the circus! for the land’s sake, no! I’m surprised that you would think of going, or that your father would let you go. The circus, indeed!”

“Why, Miss Daggett,” said Patty, laughing, in spite of her disappointment, at Miss Daggett’s shocked expression, “papa’s going to take us, and Grandma is going, too—that is, we were—but of course, if you don’t care to go——”

“Care to go? of course I don’t care to go! All their elephants and wild tigers couldn’t drag me there. And of course I expect you to stay at home with me. You can go to the circus any time you choose, if you do choose, though I think it a shocking thing to do; but Rachel Daggett doesn’t visit in the city very often, and when she does she expects to have proper respect paid to her.”

Patty’s spirits sank. She had hoped that even if Miss Daggett wouldn’t go herself, she would insist that the rest of the party should keep their engagement.

“We had invited a few other friends to go,” she said, feeling that Miss Daggett’s attitude justified her in this further statement.

“You did, hey? Well, I suppose you can telephone to them that you’re not going. Of course, if I’m an unwelcome guest——”

“Oh no, Miss Daggett, not that; of course you’re not unwelcome.”

“Well, then, act as if you were glad to see me, and don’t be everlastingly whining because you can’t go to your old circus.”

Although rudely put, Patty knew in her own heart the principle of Miss Daggett’s speech was that of true hospitality, and she decided to act upon it. Moreover, she felt sure that when her father came home he would fix matters somehow. How, she didn’t know, but she knew it would be all right.

When Mr. Fairfield arrived he greeted the unexpected guest in his own cordial, pleasant way.

“You’re just in time,” he said, grasping the situation at once; “we’re all going to the circus this afternoon, and we’ll be delighted to have you accompany us. We have two extra seats, so there’s plenty of room.”

“Your daughter has already given me the same invitation,” said Miss Daggett, “and as I said to her, I repeat to you: nothing would induce me to go to a circus. I think it entirely undignified and improper, and I am surprised that you should suggest such a thing.”

“Oh, come now, Miss Daggett, you can’t mean that. Circuses are all right, especially the one in Madison Square Garden. Why, they have the finest acrobats and trapeze performers in the world; and a score of trained elephants. Then there is the lovely lady who whizzes through space in an automobile, and flies around a great circular track upside down.”

“What!” exclaimed Miss Daggett, interested in spite of herself.

“Yes, and two men who ride down hill on bicycles, and at the end jump off into the air, still riding, and jump on again, passing each other as they go.”

“I’d like to see that,” said Miss Daggett, thrilled by Mr. Fairfield’s description, “if it was in a private house; but I wouldn’t go to the circus to see it!”

“Have you never been to a circus?” inquired Mr. Fairfield.

“That’s neither here nor there,” said Miss Daggett, drawing herself up stiffly, and leaving the question unanswered.

“Well, I’m sorry you won’t go,” said Mr. Fairfield, urbanely, “for in that case the party must be given up. And your nephew, Kenneth, will be so disappointed.”

This was diplomacy on Mr. Fairfield’s part, for he well knew how Miss Daggett idolised young Harper, and he hoped, as a last resort, that this argument might move her.

“Kenneth!” almost shrieked the old lady, “is he going? You didn’t tell me he was going;” and she glared reprovingly at Patty.

“I told you we had invited some friends,” said Patty, “and he is among them.”

“Kenneth going!” again exclaimed Miss Daggett; “why then, of course I’ll go. All their elephants and wild tigers couldn’t keep me at home if Kenneth is going. Come, let us have luncheon, so we can all be ready in time, and not keep Kenneth waiting. Dear boy, when will he be here?”

“He’s coming at quarter of two,” said Patty, “and then we’re all going down together. Mr. Hepworth is going, and my friend Lorraine Hamilton.”

But Miss Daggett seemed to care little who the other guests were, since her nephew was to be of the party. Patty was quite accustomed to the old lady’s eccentricities, and, moreover, she was so delighted that the circus party was safe after all, that she humoured Miss Daggett in every possible way. She talked to her about Kenneth, and told her of the lad’s good progress in college; and adroitly referred to the fact that they had all thought his steady application to study deserved a reward in the diversions of the circus.

Miss Daggett quite agreed to this, and now that the fact of their going was established, she admitted that she herself was anxious to see the wonders of which Mr. Fairfield had spoken.

During luncheon-time Patty was summoned to the telephone.

To her surprise the speaker proved to be none other than Roger Farrington.

He said he had been discharged from the hospital the night before, and was again at home, although his arm was still in a sling. He wanted to know if he might come down that afternoon and thank Patty in person for the scrap-book, and for the merry messages she had sent to him by Elise.

Patty did some quick thinking. Then she said:

“Why, you see, Roger, we’re all going to the circus this afternoon; but we have an extra seat, and if you’ll go with us, we’ll be awfully glad to have you.”

“Go!” exclaimed Roger, “I should rather say I would!”

“Well, if you go,” said Patty, imbued with a sudden spirit of mischief, “you must consider yourself the special escort of a friend who is visiting me. Her name is Miss Daggett, and I want her to have a real good time.”

“Trust me,” said Roger; “I’ll give her the time of her life. May I call for her? Are we all to go together?”

“Yes,” said Patty, “papa has engaged an omnibus, and we’re going to leave here at quarter before two. Be sure to be on time.”

“Oh, I’ll be there; give my regards to Miss Daggett, and expect me soon.”

Patty said good-bye, and then returned to the table, where she told them all what she had done. Mr. Fairfield expressed pleasure at having another in their party, and said that Roger certainly ought to have some fun after his weary stay in the hospital.

“And I asked him to be your especial escort, Miss Daggett,” said Patty, a little uncertain as to how the lady would take this announcement.

“Now, that’s downright nice of you,” said Miss Daggett, beaming with pleasure in a most unexpected way. But all her ways were unexpected, and Patty wondered what Roger would think of her friend.

When Kenneth Harper came he was surprised to find his aunt there, and still more surprised to learn that she was going with them to the circus. Miss Daggett was delighted to see him, and Kenneth was also glad to see her, for between this aunt and nephew there existed a great deal of affection, and Miss Daggett was always less blunt and a little more docile when Kenneth was around.

Shortly before the time appointed Roger appeared. Owing to the fact that his arm was in a sling, it was with some difficulty that he carried two parcels and managed his hat.

“You come like the Greeks bearing gifts,” said Kenneth, as he hastened to relieve Roger of his burdens.

“Those are for Miss Daggett,” said Roger, “the lady I am to escort to the circus.”

Kenneth tried not to show his amazement, and Patty cast a roguish glance at Roger as she presented him to Miss Daggett.

Roger confessed afterwards that at that moment anyone could easily have knocked him down with a feather; for without thinking much about it, he had assumed that Patty’s friend was a girl of her own age, and he had gallantly brought her some candy and some violets.

But Miss Daggett herself proved quite equal to the situation. Without a trace of self-consciousness or embarrassment, she accepted the parcels from Roger in the most gracious way, and began to untie them with all the ingenuous delight of a young girl.

“Let me help you,” said Mr. Fairfield, as he cut the strings of the boxes.

The violets were a huge bunch from the shop of a fashionable florist, and the generous-sized box of confections were of the very best procurable.

Miss Daggett was so frankly delighted that Roger, too, rose to his part, and declared that she must wear the violets that afternoon. Although their appearance on the rich, old-fashioned mantilla was decidedly incongruous, yet Miss Daggett’s dignity was such that it quite saved the effect from being ridiculous. Roger immediately took a fancy to the queer old lady, and determined to give Patty a little mild teasing by devoting himself to her “friend” all the afternoon. But Patty wasn’t teased a bit; she was greatly pleased—indeed, only less so than Miss Daggett herself.

Kenneth had promised to make Lorraine his especial care, and as Mr. Fairfield had Grandma Elliott in his charge, Mr. Hepworth fell to Patty’s share. For the first time Patty realised what an entertaining man the artist could be. That afternoon he seemed as merry as a boy, and told droll tales, or made facetious comments on the performance, until Patty was convulsed with laughter. No less gay were Roger Farrington and his companion. Being innately courteous and gentlemanly, he deemed it his duty to entertain Miss Daggett to the very best of his ability; and spurred on by the joke of the whole affair, he exerted himself especially to be amusing. Amid so many novel experiences Miss Daggett seemed to forget her usual carping style of conversation, and grew amiable and even gay.

Kenneth, too, was doing his part well. He had promised to keep Lorraine in a light-hearted mood, and he had no trouble in doing so. For the girl met him half-way, having herself determined that she would follow Patty’s oft-repeated advice. Grandma was in her element, and Mr. Fairfield was elated that his little party had turned out so successful.

“Do you know,” said Mr. Hepworth, “that you are a veritable Dispenser of Happiness?”

“What do you mean?” asked Patty, with her frank smile.

“Why, I mean that you’re not only happy yourself, but you give happiness to all who are near you. Consciously, I mean; you purposely arranged that Lorraine should have a good time, and,” here his eyes twinkled, “you made a somewhat similar plan for Miss Daggett. You asked both those boys from a real desire to give them pleasure. Mrs. Elliott is enjoying every moment of her good time, and—I’m happy, too.”

“It’s nice of you to be so complimentary,” said Patty, “but it isn’t fair for me to take it all to myself. It’s papa’s party, and you’d think me anything but a general benefactor if you knew how cross I was when Miss Daggett came in unexpectedly this morning.”

“And aside from your intentional dispensing of happiness,” went on Hepworth, ignoring her confession of ill-temper, “your unconscious influence is that of pure joy. You radiate happiness, and no one can be near you without feeling its influence. I did not intend, Patty, to say this quite so baldly, but it is not meant as idle compliment or flattery, only as an honest recognition of your charm.”

Patty accepted what Mr. Hepworth said quite simply, and looked at him with clear, unembarrassed eyes.

“Thank you, Mr. Hepworth,” she said; “I know you would not say those things unless you meant them. I’m truly glad that you think my influence, be it ever so small, is toward happiness. For I am always happy; somehow I can’t help it, and I want the whole world to be so, too.”

“It is that dear wish in your heart that makes you what you are,” said Mr. Hepworth, and then, with what seemed to be a sudden effort, he stopped their serious conversation and exclaimed: “Will you look at that clown. Isn’t he quite the funniest one you ever saw?”

Patty laughed at the ridiculous fellow, and then the wonders of the aerial bicyclists, and the even more marvellous autobolide, claimed their attention.

But long after she had forgotten the amusing scenes of the circus Patty remembered what Mr. Hepworth had said.