Book: Patty and Azalea

C >> Carolyn Wells >> Patty and Azalea




"Dunno what you mean! I've no notion of working against you, Cousin. And
don't you be high and mighty with _me_! We'll get along all right, if you
meet me half way, but--"

Patty saw her chance. "Good, Azalea! There's my hand on that! We'll meet
each other half way, and you consider my wishes and I'll consider yours."

The danger point was passed and Azalea smiled again.

"I want to see the baby," she said suddenly. "I love babies."

"To-morrow, please. She's asleep now."

"Well, I can look at her. I won't wake her. I'll be awful careful."

This interest in Fleurette touched Patty's mother heart, and she
consented.

"Can I go this way?" said Azalea, looking at her kimono.

This garment was,--not entirely to Patty's surprise,--a horror of gaily
flowered silkoline, but as they would see no one but the nurse, she
said, "Yes; come along."

To the nursery they went and there, in her bassinette lay the baby,
asleep. She looked like a lovely little flower, indeed, and Patty gazed
with adoring eyes at the flushed little face.

"Oh!" cried Azalea, aloud, "what an angel baby!"

"Hush!" whispered Patty, "don't wake her!" and Nurse Winnie stood around
in a state of nervous apprehension.

"No, I won't," Azalea said, in such a loud whisper, that it was scarce a
whisper at all,--rather a muffled shout.

And then she poked her forefinger into the baby's roseleaf cheek.

"Pretty!" she said, beaming at the child.

"Oh, don't touch her!" Patty cried out. "Come away, Azalea!" for she
really didn't know what the strange girl would do next.

"Pshaw! I didn't hurt her. If she's such a touch-me-not, she's no fun at
all! But every-body's like that with their first baby! Silly! Fussy! Just
ridiculous!"

"I daresay," laughed Patty, determined not to show her annoyance.
"But it's time to dress for dinner,--or nearly. Come back to your
room,--and--wouldn't you like to take a fifteen minute nap? It might
refresh you."

"It would _not_! Take a nap in broad daylight! I never heard of such a
thing! Oh, well, if I can't speak to that kid let's go back to my room.
I'll skittle into my frock and go down to that flowery, bowery piazza
again. I like that."

"What shall you put on?" asked Patty, interestedly, as Azalea made a mad
dive into her trunk.

"Dunno. What say? This?" She held up a mussy looking white muslin,
trimmed with coarse embroidery and some imitation lace.

"That will do nicely," Patty said, relieved that it was at least white,
and not some of the flamboyant effects she saw still in the trunk. "Janet
will press it off for you,--it's rumpled from packing. And then you
needn't unpack, dear, Janet will do that for you."

"Oh, I thought you told me not to call on the servant for anything!"

"No," Patty said, discouraged, "I didn't quite say that,--here's Janet
now. Let her do your hair for you!"

"Do my hair! Mercy gracious! I should say not! I've never had that done
for me."

"But I'm sure you'll be pleased with the way she'd do it. Janet is an
artist at hair-dressing."

"Nopy! nix on the barber act for little Zaly! I'll comb my own wig, thank
you!"

With a comb, she stood before the cheval glass, and twisted up the dark
mop into a tidy but most unbecoming coil.

"Don't you _care_ how it looks?" cried Patty, in dismay. "Really, _don't_
you? And you've such pretty hair!"

"Then if it's pretty hair, it doesn't need any fancy doing," and Azalea
gave a whimsical smile. "There, that's done. Now for my frock."

Janet had whisked the white muslin away, and already had it back, pressed
and freshened.

"Lovely!" Azalea exclaimed; "how ever did you do it so quick? Happen to
have an iron on the stove?"

"Electric iron," said Patty, briefly. "They're always handy, you know."

"Never saw one. No, Miss Janet,--not that way, it hooks in the back."

At last, Azalea was attired, and looked fairly presentable in her white
frock; though having no white shoes and stockings she wore black ones.

"I'd like white ones," she said, apologetically, "but I could only have
two pairs so I got black and the ones I wore here."

"Quite right," said Patty, appreciatively; "I'll be glad to get you some
white ones. They'd be pretty with this frock."

"Oh, thank you. I'd love to have 'em. Where we going now?"

"Suppose you come to my room, while I dress," Patty suggested, thinking
an object lesson in the arts of the toilette might not be amiss.

"O.K.," and the visitor strode along by the side of her hostess.

They _were_ a contrast! Patty, dainty, graceful and sweet, was the very
antithesis of tall, gawky Azalea, with her countrified dress and badly
made black shoes. Her careless air, too, was unattractive,--for it was
not the nonchalance of experience, but the unselfconsciousness of sheer
ignorance of urban ways and manners.

"My land! what a room," the country girl ejaculated, as they entered
Patty's boudoir. "How ever can you live in this fancy place! It's like
a picture!"

"It is," agreed Patty, pleased at the comment. "But I love it. I'm afraid
I'm too fond of soft lights and pretty appointments, and delicate
fragrance."

"Well, you've got it! My land! I'm afraid to move around! I don't want to
break anything."

"You won't," laughed Patty. "Sit there, and we can talk while I get into
my gown. I do my own hair, too," and she shook down her mop of golden
curls, to Azalea's hearty admiration.




CHAPTER VI

TABLE MANNERS


Patty's dining-room was beautiful. She argued that as an appreciable
percentage of one's waking hours were spent there, care and thought
should be given to its appointment.

The colouring was soft old blue, and the furniture of mahogany. The
lights were pleasantly shaded and the sideboards and cabinets showed
attractive silver and glass in immaculate order.

"The flowers are in your honour," said Patty, smiling, as they took their
places at the table, in the centre of which was a bowl of azaleas.

"Ho, ho! You needn't have done that! I ain't accustomed to such grand
things."

"Now, Azalea, flowers on the table aren't especially grand. I think I
should have them,--if I could,--if I were eating in the middle of the
Desert of Sahara."

"I believe you would," said Bill, smiling at her; "Patty is a
flower-worshipper, Zaly. Zaly's the name your mother called you when
you were a tiny mite. Tell me about your father? Was he willing to be
left alone?"

"Oh,--he didn't mind. What lovely silver you have, Patty."

"Yes; they are my wedding presents."

"Oh, tell me all about your wedding!"

"I didn't have any. I mean, not a big reception and all that. We were
married in haste,--so we could have a chance to repent at leisure,--if
we want to."

"And do you?" asked Azalea, with such a serious air that the other two
laughed.

"I haven't had leisure enough for _that_ yet," Bill declared.

"And I don't know what leisure means," Patty said. "I'm busy from morning
till night. If we ever get any leisure,--either of us,--perhaps we'll
begin on that repentance performance."

But Patty's happy face, as she turned it toward her husband, left little
doubt as to her state of satisfaction with her life. Though, as she said,
she was always busy, it was by her own wish, and she would have been
miserable if she had had nothing to do.

Azalea, as Bill expressed it later to Patty, was a whole show!

The girl was ignorant of manners and customs that were second nature to
her hosts, and was even unacquainted with the uses of some of the table
furniture.

But this they had expected, and both Patty and Bill were more than ready
to ignore and excuse any lapses of etiquette.

However, they were not prepared for Azalea's attitude, which was that of
self-important bravado. Quite conscious of her shortcomings, the girl's
nature was such that she preferred to pretend familiarity with her
strange surroundings and she assumed an air of what she considered
elegance that was so funny that the others had difficulty to keep from
laughing outright.

She was especially at great pains to extend her little finger when she
raised a glass or cup, having evidently observed the practice among
people she admired. This finally resulted in her dropping the glass and
spilling water all over her dinner plate.

"Hang it all!" she cried; "ain't that _me_! Just as I get right into the
swing of your hifalutin ways, I go and upset the applecart! Pshaw!
You'll think I'm a country junk!"

"Not at all," said Patty, kindly, "'twas an accident that might happen to
anybody. Norah will bring you a fresh plate. Don't think of it."

"No, I won't have a fresh plate. I'm going to keep this one, to serve me
right for being so awkward." And no amount of insistence would persuade
the foolish girl to have her plate changed.

"Nonsense, Azalea!" Farnsworth remonstrated, "you can't eat that chicken,
floating around in a sea of potato and water! Don't be a silly! Let Norah
take it."

"No, I won't," and a stubborn look came into the black eyes. But in the
meantime, Norah had attempted to remove the plate,--carefully, not to
spill the water.

Azalea made a clutch at it, and succeeded in overturning the whole
thing,--and the food fell, partly in her lap and partly on the pretty
tablecloth.

"Never mind," said Patty, gaily. "Leave it all to Norah,--she'll do a
conjuring trick."

And sure enough, the deft waitress whisked the details of the accident
out of sight, spread a large fresh napkin at Azalea's place, set another
plate for her, and was passing her the platter of chicken almost before
she realised what was going on.

"Well, I never!" she exclaimed; "that was _some_ stunt! Say, I'm sorry,
Cousin Patty,--but I'm a little kerflummixed,--and I may as well own up
to it."

"Oh, don't be that!" Patty laughed, carelessly. "Forget the past and
enjoy a piece of hot chicken. It's real good,--isn't it?"

"It's great! I never tasted anything like it!" Whereupon, Azalea took
in her fingers a wing and, with both elbows on the table, proceeded to
enjoy it in her own informal way. But both little fingers were carefully
extended at right angles to the others. She glanced at them now and then,
to make sure.

Her equanimity restored by Patty's kindliness and tact, the girl lapsed
into what was, doubtless, her customary way of eating. She displayed
undue gusto, smacked her lips at the appearance of a dainty dish and when
the dessert proved to be ice cream, she rolled her eyes ceilingward, and
patted her chest in a very ecstasy of anticipation.

It was too much for Farnsworth. He appreciated Patty's patience and
endurance, but he knew just how she felt. And it was _his_ cousin who was
acting like a wild Indian at their pretty home table!

"Azalea," he said,--Norah had left the dining-room,--"who brought you up?
Your mother died some years ago. With whom have you lived since?"

"Why,--oh,--only with Papa."

"But Uncle Thorpe,--I remember him well,--was a simple soul, but he was a
quiet, well-behaved man. Why didn't he teach you to be more restrained in
your ways,--especially at table?"

"Restrained? Oh, you mean I eat too much! Well, I have got a big
appetite, but to-night I guess I'm specially hungry. Or else your eats
are specially good! You don't mind how much I eat, do you, Cousin Patty?"

"Of course she doesn't," Farnsworth went on, trying to look severe but
obliged to smile at Azalea's total unconsciousness of any wrong manners
on her part. "But she does care if you behave like a 'wild and woolly,'
although she's too polite to say so!"

"Wild and woolly nothing! I've been awful careful to crook out my
finger,--and that's the very reason why I upset the tumbler!"

"That's true," agreed Patty, "and so, Zaly, suppose you discontinue that
habit. It isn't done this year."

"Honest? That so? I'd be mighty glad to quit it!"

"Do, then," put in Bill. "And while we're on the subject, you won't mind
if I go into it a little more deeply,--will you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for one thing, they don't put elbows on the table this season as
much as formerly."

"Pooh! I know that! I didn't mean to,--but I forgot. I guess I know how
to behave,--if I don't always do it!"

"I'm glad you do, Zaly,--and, listen, dear, you're my relative, you know,
and I'm going to ask you to try to _use_ your knowledge,--for Patty is
too polite to mention such subjects!"

"Oh, I don't mind! Pick on me all you like,--either of you. I suppose
there are some frills I'm not onto,--but I'm quick at catchin' on,--and
I'll get there, Eli!"

Norah returned then, and the subject was not continued. Coffee was served
in the library and the small cups excited Azalea's scorn.

"Skimpy, I call it!" she cried. "And where's the milk?"

"You may have cream if you wish it, Azalea," said Patty, a little tired
of smiling. "Norah will bring some."

"Oh, let me get it," and Azalea jumped up. "I remember, Patty, you told
me not to trouble the servants too much."

"Sit down!" Farnsworth said, in a tone that made Azalea jump. "Wait for
Norah to bring it."

"Oho! _you_ believe in making the lazy things work, don't you! What's the
use of hiring a dog, and doing your own barking? That's right!"

Patty struggled with her annoyance, overcame it, and making a gesture to
Bill to keep quiet, she warded off his angry explanations, and took the
situation in her own hands.

"Here's cream, Azalea," she said, as the maid reappeared, "many people
like it in after dinner coffee, and you're very welcome to it."

"Licking good!" was the verdict, as Azalea stirred her coffee, and drank
the tiny cupful at one draught. "The sample's fine! I'll take a regular
sized cup, please."

"For breakfast," smiled Patty. "That's all we serve at night. Are you
fond of music, Azalea?"

"You bet! Why, we've got some records that are just bang-up!"

"I remember Uncle Thorpe was quite a singer," said Bill; "do you sing,
too?"

"Not so's you'd notice it! My voice is like--"

But the description of Azalea's singing voice was interrupted by the
entrance of two young people. Betty Gale and her brother Raymond stepped
in at the open French window, and laughingly announced themselves as
daring intruders.

"Very welcome ones," declared Patty, jumping up to greet them, and then
Farnsworth introduced Azalea.

"You're the real purpose of our visit," said Betty, her charming little
face alight with gay welcome. "We adore our neighbours, and they simply
worship us,--so we're quite prepared to take any friends or relatives of
either of them into our hearts and homes."

"My!" said Azalea, unable to think of any more fitting response, and
taking Betty's outstretched hand, with her own little finger carefully
extended.

Betty Gale's eyes opened wide for a fraction of a second, then she as
quickly accepted the situation, and said, cordially, "I'm sure we shall
be friends. And you must like my scapegrace brother, too, if only for my
sake."

"At first," supplemented Raymond, as he stepped toward Azalea, "but as
soon as you know me better, you'll love me for myself alone,--I feel sure
of that!"

"My!" said Azalea again. Her bravado deserted her in the presence
of these two merry visitors. They seemed so at ease, so knowing, so
carelessly polite, that Azalea felt as if they were beings from some
other sphere. The Farnsworths, she knew, made allowance for her because
she was a guest in their household, but these people seemed to expect her
to be like themselves, and she suddenly realised she couldn't be as they
were.

A strange contradictory streak in her nature often made her assume an
accomplishment she did not possess, and now, knowing she couldn't chat in
their lively fashion, she took refuge in an attitude of bold hilarity,
and talked loud and fast.

"I'll love you, if you make love to me good and proper," she said, with a
burst of laughter. "But I've got a beau back home, who'll go for you, if
he knows it!"

"Oh, we'll keep it secret," returned young Gale; "I'm awfully good at
keeping secrets of that sort! Trust me. And it shall be my earnest
endeavour to cut out said beau. Meet me halfway, won't you?"

"Yes, indeed, and then some! I'm a great little old halfway meeter, you
bet!"

"I'm sure of it!" Gale was laughing now. "Let's go out on the verandah
and talk it over."

"Don't trust him too implicitly, Miss Thorpe," warned Betty; "my brother
is a first-grade scalawag,--and I want you to be forewarned!"

"There, there, Sis, I'll do my own forewarning. Come along, Miss Thorpe,
we'll sit under the spreading wistaria tree."

The two disappeared, and there was a moment's silence, and then Patty
said,

"Our cousin is from Arizona, and it's hard for her, at first, to adapt
herself to our more formal ways. It must be great out there,--all wide
spaces, and big, limitless distances--"

"God's country!" said Farnsworth, who always had a love for his Western
wilds.

"Nix!" cried Betty, "I've been there, and it's just one cactus after
another!"

"Well, cactuses are all right,--in their place," said Patty, smiling.
"They're as much verdure as maples or redwoods."

"Quite different kind of verdure," said Betty. "Now, Patty, I want to do
something for your cousin,--right away, I mean, to help you launch her."

"Oh, no, Betty; you're awfully kind, but--"

"Yes, I shall, too. I'm your nearest neighbour, and it's my right. I
suppose you'll give her a luncheon or something, first, and then I'll
follow it with a tea, or a dance, or whatever you like. There'll be lots
of things for her later on, so I want to get my bid in first. How pretty
she is."

"You're a darling, Betty," cried Patty, enthusiastically, touched by her
friend's kindness, "but,--well, there's no use mincing matters,--I'm not
sure Azalea is quite ready to be presented to society."

"Oh, but your cousin--"

"Indeed she isn't!" put in Farnsworth, "I want you to understand that
she's _my_ cousin,--not Patty's. And, also my wife's quite right,--Azalea
is not ready for social functions,--of any sort. You see, Betty, we can't
blink the facts,--she's of the West, western,--in the least attractive
sense. I'm fond of my home, and unashamed of my people, but all the same,
I'm not going to have Patty embarrassed by the ignorance and awkwardness
of an untutored guest. And so here's where I set my foot down. We accept
no invitations for Azalea until we think she is in trim to make a correct
appearance in society."

"Oh, Cousin Bill, I overheard you and I think you're just horrid!" Azalea
came running back into the room, while Raymond Gale followed, evidently
in a dilemma how to act.

"Cousin Patty would let me go, I know, and I _want_ to go to Miss Gale's
to a party! Just because I upset a glass of water at dinner, you're mad
at me! It isn't fair! I think you're real mean!"

The girl went up to Farnsworth and almost scowled at him as she awaited
his response.

But he looked at her steadily,--even sternly.

"Of course it must be as Patty says," he told her, at last, "but I will
say, Azalea, that I'm surprised at you--"

"Why should you be surprised at me? You invited me to come and see you.
If I'm not good enough to visit you, I'll go home again. You didn't ask
me any questions,--you just said come along,--and I came. I ain't a
swell,--like these friends of yours,--but I am your cousin, and you've
got no right to scorn me!"

"That's so, Bill," Patty said, seriously; "and here's another thing.
Betty has met Azalea now,--she knows just what she is. If she still
cares to ask her to her house, I shall approve of her going. I want to do
all I can for our cousin, and there's no better way to teach people to
swim, than to throw them into the water!"

"Bully for you, Cousin Patty!" Azalea cried, her eyes snapping at Bill.
"I'm not so bad as I might be, and I'll do just what you tell me."

"I'm sure you will," agreed Betty, and Farnsworth looked at her
appreciatively, feeling a deep sense of gratitude at the way she was
helping Patty out.

"It seems hard on you, Azalea," he went on, "to talk of you like
this,--as if you were not present,--but it is so. You need,--I'm not
going to hesitate to tell you,--you need a thorough training in matters
pertaining to polite society. Unless you are willing to accept our
teachings and do your best to profit by them,--I am going to send you
back home! For much as I want to be kind and helpful to my young
cousin,--I will not even try, if it makes my wife any trouble or
embarrassment."

"Oh, pshaw, Little Billee,--leave Azalea to me,--I can manage her."

"You can't, Patty, without her cooperation and willingness. Will you
promise those, Azalea?"

"Sure I will! I'm a great little old promiser,--I am!"

"And will you keep your promises?"

"You bet! I don't want to go home when I've just got here! And if my
learning things is my meal ticket,--then I'm ready to learn."

Farnsworth sighed. He had had, as yet, no chance to talk to Patty alone,
since their misfit visitor had arrived. He had been firmly resolved to
send her home again,--until now, that Patty and Betty seemed willing to
take her in hand. If they were, it would be a great injustice to the
Western girl not to give her the chance to learn refinement and culture
from those two who were so well fitted to teach her.

And, anyway,--he continued to muse,--perhaps Azalea's worst faults were
superficial. If she could be persuaded to amend her style of talk and
her _gauche_ manners, perhaps she was of a true fine nature underneath.
His Uncle,--so-called,--and his Aunt Amanda, he remembered as kindly,
good-hearted people, of fair education, though lacking in elegance.

"Oh, don't take it so seriously," cried the vivacious Betty, as she noted
Farnsworth's thoughtful face: "leave the little girl to us for a few
weeks,--and you will be surprised at the result! You'll do just as I tell
you,--won't you, Azalea?"

"If you tell me the same as Cousin Patty," was the reply, and the strange
girl gave Patty a look of loyalty and admiration that won her heart.

"That's right, Zaly, dear," Patty cried, "you're my girl, first, last and
all the time! And we'll both do as Betty says,--because she knows it all!
She knows lots more than I do."

"Indeed I do!" and the saucy Betty laughed. "Well, then, I'll arrange for
a dance for Azalea very soon. Do you dance?"

"I don't know," replied Azalea, "I never tried."




CHAPTER VII

MYSTERIOUS CALLERS


Big Bill Farnsworth came into the nursery, where Patty was playing with
the baby. It was the nurse's luncheon hour, and Patty always looked
after Fleurette then.

"Take her, Daddy," Patty cried, holding up the soft, fragrant little
bundle of happy humanity, and Farnsworth grasped the child in his strong
careful way, and tossed her up high above his head.

The baby laughter that followed proved Fleurette's delight in this
performance, and she mutely insisted on its repetition.

"Azalea does that," said Patty, in a troubled tone, "she is strong and
very athletic, I know, but I can't bear to see anybody toss baby around
but you."

"No; Azalea oughtn't to do it,--she is strong, but she isn't careful
enough. Don't allow it, Patty."

"I do forbid it, but she comes in here when I don't know it,--or she
picks baby out of her carriage, Winnie says, and tosses her clear up and
catches her again."

"I'll speak to her about it; why, she'll drop the child some day! She
must not do it!"

"I wish you would speak to her," Patty sighed. "Azalea is really a
trial. I don't know what to do with her. Sometimes she is so sweet and
docile that I think I'm teaching her to be a civilised person, and then
she flies off at a tangent and she's as unruly and intractable as she
was at first."

"How long has she been here now?"

"Nearly a month. I've tried and Betty has tried,--and, yes, Azalea has
tried herself,--but we can't seem to--"

"Camouflage her!"

"That's just it! I want her to look like the background she's against
here,--and she doesn't!"

"I should say not! Last night at dinner she threw herself back in her
chair and yawned openly--"

"Openly! It was all of that! I saw her,--across the table through the
flowers. And, Billee,--she's queer--that's what she is,--queer!"

"Have you noticed that, too? Yes, she _is_ queer,--here take this
Little Flower. She's nearly asleep."

"So she is,--give her to me,--there, there, mudder's pressus,--petty
poppity,--yes, she's queer!"

"Who? Fleurette?"

"You know very well I don't mean Fleurette! I mean that Pride of the
West,--that stranger within our gates,--that thorn in the flesh,--that
awful Azalea!"

"Meaning me?" and Azalea herself popped her head in at the nursery door.

"Yes," replied Farnsworth, imperturbably, "meaning you. Come in, Azalea,
I want to speak to you. When have you heard from your father?"

"Let me see--about a week ago, I think."

"Will you show me the letter?"

"Why, how inquisitive you are! What do you want to see it for?"

"I'd like to read it. I suppose it isn't distinctly a private letter."

"N-no, of course not. But, the truth is,--I haven't got it."

"What did you do with it?"

"I--I tore it up."

"Was it unpleasant?"

"No, but as I had answered it,--I didn't need to keep it."

"What was in it? Tell me,--in a general way."

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