CHAPTER XXI THE CINDERELLA PARTY

On Christmas Eve Clementine was to give a party. It was to be of the kind known as a “Cinderella party,” that is, the guests were to depart exactly at twelve o’clock.

With the exception of the hops at the seashore hotel, Patty had never been to a regular evening party, and she looked forward to the event with great delight.

Ruth Fleming had come down from Boston to spend Christmas week with Patty, so of course she, too, was invited to the party.

Ruth’s visit had come about in this way: Patty had thought she would ask Marian to visit her on Christmas, but Aunt Alice had insisted that the Fairfields and Grandma Elliott should spend Christmas with them in Vernondale. Then Patty thought of asking Ethelyn St. Clair, but concluded that after all it would be nicer to have Ruth.

“For,” said Patty, to her father, “Ethelyn has lots of good times, while Ruth leads an awfully hum-drum life. To be sure, she’s a hum-drum girl, the very hum-drummiest one I ever saw. But that’s all the more reason to chirk her up, and when I get her here I’ll make her have fun, whether she wants to or not. Besides, I had Ethelyn and Bumble Barlow both to visit me last summer, and I’ve never had Ruth.”

So Ruth came, and arrived only the day before Christmas. She reached The Wilberforce in the morning, and Patty was surprised to see how little change a year had made in the Boston girl. She was just the same mild, placid, unemotional child that she had been when Patty saw her last. Her peculiarly Puritan effect was still evident in her face, her manner and her dress. She wore a plain little frock of a dull brown, with a jacket and hat that were inconspicuously old-fashioned.

In her quiet way she seemed truly glad to see Patty again, and Patty, knowing Ruth’s natural shyness, did all in her power to make her visitor feel at ease.

In this Grandma Elliott helped, for that dear old lady had a knack of rendering people comfortable; and, too, her heart immediately went out to the shy New England girl.

“There’s to be a party to-night,” said Patty, whose mind was full of this all-important subject; “it’s at my friend Clementine Morse’s; and we’re both going, you and I. It’s a Cinderella party, and papa’s going to take us and come for us again at twelve o’clock. Won’t it be fun?”

“But I can’t go to a party,” exclaimed Ruth, in dismay; “I haven’t any party frock to wear.”

“Oh pshaw, yes you have; your best dress is good enough, whatever it is. Where is it? Let’s unpack your things and look at it.”

But Patty was obliged to confess that Ruth had spoken truly. The girl’s best dress was a blue cashmere, neat and well made, and trimmed with silk to match, but Patty knew that among the light and pretty evening dresses of the other girls it would look altogether out of place.

“It isn’t just right, Ruth,” she said frankly; “but we must fix you up somehow. Do you suppose you could wear one of my frocks? I’ve lots of ’em, though of course most of them are not as pretty as the one I’m going to wear myself to-night.”

“Oh, Patty, of course I couldn’t wear your dress. It wouldn’t fit me at all; and besides I don’t care to go to the party, truly I don’t. Please let me stay at home with Mrs. Elliott, and you go without me. I’ll be a great deal happier—honestly I will.”

Patty looked at her guest with a comical smile.

“Ruth,” she said, “I invited you down here to have a good time; and you’ve got to have it, whether you want it or not. So don’t tell me what you’d rather do, but just make up your mind that you’ll do as I say.”

Patty knew Ruth well enough to feel sure that this was the right way to talk to her. Once at the party, she thought Ruth would enjoy herself if she could only overcome her shyness; and Patty had already planned several ways to assist in this.

But first of all, the question of apparel must be settled. Patty had her own ideas on the subject, and after a conversation over the telephone with her father, who was down at his office, Patty announced to Grandma and Ruth that they would all go on a shopping expedition that very morning.

On the way, Patty informed Ruth that they were to buy her a new party frock, and that it was to be a Christmas gift from Patty and her father.

Ruth protested, but Patty paid no heed whatever to her remonstrances, and when the bewildering array of pretty dresses was exhibited Ruth showed almost as much delighted excitement in the selection as Patty herself.

After much discussion and trying on and consultation with Grandma, they at last decided on a simple but very dainty frock of light blue Liberty silk. It had a lace yoke, and was trimmed here and there with bunches of tiny flowers of a slightly darker blue. The effect exactly suited Ruth’s fair hair and grey eyes, and as the excitement of the occasion lent colour to her usually pale cheeks, Patty declared she was a perfect picture in that dress, and there was no use looking any further.

So it was ordered sent home at once, and then the shoppers selected gloves, slippers, hair-ribbons, and all the delightful little accessories of the costume.

Grandma Elliott added an exquisite fan as her Christmas gift to Ruth, and then the trio went home.

After luncheon Patty decreed that Ruth should take a nap, in order to be bright and fresh for the evening; and as Ruth had found it was quite useless to try to combat Patty’s will, she obediently went to her room.

Patty herself was so full of excitement she could not have slept if she had tried. She unpacked Ruth’s things when they were sent home, and laid them out in order for the evening. She flew up to discuss matters with Lorraine, and then paid a flying visit to the Harts. She telephoned to Clementine and to Elise, and finally settled down to chat with Grandma about the coming festivity.

At last dinner was over, and it was time to dress for the great occasion.

Patty’s own frock was all of white; a distracting affair of embroidered muslin and fluffy lace ruffles.

But far more than her own finery, Patty enjoyed dressing Ruth up in her new clothes.

“You look a perfect dream in that blue,” cried Patty as she finished hooking up Ruth’s dress, and whirled her around for inspection.

And indeed a transformation had been wrought.

Patty had curled Ruth’s straight blonde hair, and had tied it with two big blue bows, made of ribbon about twice as wide as Ruth had ever worn before. The new frock was most becoming, and Ruth saw her own self in the mirror with an amazed surprise. She had never thought of possessing the slightest claim to beauty, but she was obliged to admit that on this occasion she had certainly achieved it.

The truth was that Ruth’s perfect complexion and classic features needed an appropriate setting, and this Patty had provided, with a most pleasing result.

Patty herself was delighted with her success. She exhibited Ruth to Mr. Fairfield quite as if she were a doll which she had dressed up for her own benefit. Even Mr. Fairfield was surprised at the change in the demure maiden, and congratulated both girls on their charming appearance.

Then away they went to the party.

Patty gave Ruth orders to the effect that she must, for at least that one evening, make her demeanour correspond to her appearance.

“If you’re quiet as a mouse, and silent as a mummy, you won’t have any fun at all,” she declared; “you must talk and laugh and make yourself jolly, and forget that you’re as shy and bashful as you can be.”

“Don’t scare the poor child out of her wits,” said Mr. Fairfield, laughing at Patty’s vehemence; “you’ll make her more embarrassed than ever.”

“Oh, no, I won’t,” said Patty; “Ruth’s all right if you scold her hard enough beforehand.”

Although Patty’s method might not answer for some dispositions, it was successful in Ruth’s case.

Partly because of Patty’s instructions, and partly because the consciousness of her attractive appearance gave her confidence, Ruth seemed entirely to lay aside her shyness and fear of strangers.

She was demure—as she couldn’t help being—but her painful self-consciousness almost disappeared, and she was bright, happy and responsive.

The young people liked her at once, and, aided by their warmhearted welcome, Ruth responded heartily, and chatted easily and gaily with them all.

It must be admitted that this state of affairs had been largely brought about by Patty’s thoughtfulness. She had spoken to most of the girls, and had asked them to be especially cordial to Ruth and to try their best to put the stranger at her ease. The girls had not only done this, but had given their brothers hints in the matter, and as a consequence Ruth did not lack partners for the dances or the games.

But notwithstanding her plans and her hopes, Patty was amazed to see how far Ruth exceeded all her anticipations. The girl was positively a belle. The admiration and attention she received was such a novel experience that it had the effect of exhilarating her. She smiled and dimpled, her eyes danced with enjoyment. Never forward, or unduly hilarious, she charmed everyone by her demure gaiety.

No one was more delighted than Patty at her friend’s success, and she said to Kenneth:

“I’m so glad Ruth is having such a good time; and yet I’m so surprised, for I never saw her so gay and sparkling before.”

“I’m surprised, too,” said Kenneth, “for from what you told me about her, I imagined her a prim little Puritan maiden.”

“I didn’t intend to misrepresent her,” said Patty; “but it must be the influence of New York City that has changed her; she never was like that in Boston.”

“I think it’s your influence,” said Kenneth, “for you always make everybody happy that you have anything to do with.”

“Oh, pshaw; I didn’t do anything for her except to help her pick out that pretty blue frock and give her a good scolding on the way over here.”

“She doesn’t act as though she had been scolded.”

“That’s the result of the scolding. I ordered her to be gay and glad, and she knew she had to obey me. That’s the way to manage a girl like Ruth.”

Ruth’s successful debut in no way detracted from Patty’s popularity. She was always the centre of a merry group, and the boys flocked around her like bees around a blossom. She had more invitations to dance than she could possibly accept, and she enjoyed it all to the fullest extent of her fun-loving nature.

“I thought I’d never get a chance to speak to you,” said Roger Farrington, as he led her away for a dance, “you always have such a crowd around you.”

“Well, you can be part of the crowd,” returned Patty, saucily.

“I don’t want to be part; I want to be the whole crowd.”

“You must have a large opinion of yourself, if you fancy yourself a whole crowd.”

“Well, I never see you anywhere. When you come to see Elise I’m not at home, and when she goes to see you she won’t take me with her. Mayn’t I come by myself some day?”

“Miss Daggett isn’t visiting me now,” said Patty, roguishly.

“Well, Miss Fleming is,” said Roger, teasing in return.

“Sure enough, and I do want to make it pleasant for her. We’re all going to Vernondale for Christmas, but I’d be glad to have you call some afternoon next week. Ruth will stay until after New Year’s Day.”

“I’ll be delighted to come,” said Roger, “and I’ll bring you some plants for your farm.”

They whirled away in the dance, and as Roger was a particularly good dancer, Patty enjoyed it immensely. Dancing was a favourite pastime with her, but she rarely had an opportunity to enjoy it, as Mr. Fairfield did not approve of dancing parties for schoolgirls; so as Patty did not attend a dancing class, her dances were limited to the impromptu ones the girls sometimes had in the gymnasium of the Oliphant school.