Book: Patty and Azalea

C >> Carolyn Wells >> Patty and Azalea




"Good enough programme," agreed Van Reypen. "For one half-hour, then,
each may do as he or she wishes!"

"Yes, if you all promise to be back here in half an hour."

"Make it an hour, Patty," laughed Elise, who had her own plans.

"All right," said Patty, carelessly, who cared only that her guests
should enjoy themselves.

"I want to tell you something," Mona said, as she and Patty at last were
alone on the porch. "Who _is_ Azalea?"

"I call that asking, not telling," laughed Patty; "however, I'll reply.
She is Bill's cousin,--not first cousin, but the daughter of his
father's cousin. So you see,--a distant cousin. Why?"

"I'll tell you why. Roger and I go to the 'movies' sometimes,--and in a
picture, the other night, we saw Azalea."

"Saw Azalea! You mean some one who looked like her."

"No; Azalea Thorpe herself! Roger and I both knew her at once. And it
was quite a new picture,--taken recently, I mean. Did you know she did
such things?"

"No, and I can't think she does. It must have been only a remarkable
resemblance, Mona."

"No, Patty. We're positive. And, too, she was doing Wild West
stunts,--riding bareback, shooting, throwing a lariat,--all those
things,--and Azalea can, you know."

"Yes, I know; and there _is_ something queer going on. It may be that
when Azalea goes off for a day or part of a day, that's where she goes.
But I can hardly believe it. And why does she keep it so secret?"

"I suppose she thinks you and Bill wouldn't approve."

"And we certainly would _not_! I don't think it can be possible, Mona.
But don't say anything to anybody,--not even to Little Billee,--until I
can talk to Azalea, myself. I can do lots with her, alone, but not if
anybody else is present."

"Where is she now?"

"Gone for a moonlight stroll with Phil. He's decidedly taken with her."

"Yes, I know it. He said so on the way up here. He thinks she's a fine
girl--and he admires those careless, unconventional ways of hers."

"Well, I don't," Patty sighed. "I like Azalea for lots of things,--she's
good company and kind-hearted,--and she's devoted to Baby,--but I
_can't_ like those free and easy manners! But she's a whole lot better
than when she first came! Then she was _really_ a wild Indian! I've been
able to tone her down a little."

"You've done wonders for her, Patty. She ought to be very grateful."

Patty made a wry face. "No, she isn't grateful. People never are
grateful for that sort of thing. And she doesn't even _know_ she's
different! I've had to train her without her own knowledge! But she's
chameleon-like, in some ways, and she picks up a lot just from being
with mannerly people."

"She does indeed! She's quite correct now,--in her actual doings. It's
only in some burst of enthusiasm that she oversteps the bounds of
propriety. Well, that's all. I thought I'd tell you,--for it isn't right
that you shouldn't know. And there's no mistake. There's only one Azalea
Thorpe."

"Was her name on the programme?"

"No; she didn't have a star part,--not even a named part. She was one of
a crowd,--cowboys, ranch girls, and a general horde of 'woollies.' Don't
accuse her of it, Patty; get around her and see what she says."

"Goodness, Mona, give me credit for a little tact! I'll find out in the
best way. What was the name of the play?"

"'Star of the West.' A splendid thing,--have you seen it?"

"No; we almost never go."

"Oh, we go a lot, we love moving pictures."

"I'd like to see this one,--before I speak to Azalea. Is it on now?"

"Yes, at The Campanile. Let's go down to-morrow,--just you and me. We
can be back in a couple of hours."

"Well, I'll see. Probably I can go."

In the meantime, Azalea and Van Reypen were talking of the same play.

"I saw a picture play last night," Phil was saying, "with a girl in it
that looked exactly like you."

"What was the play?" asked Azalea, interestedly.

"'Star of the West.' It was a good play, but I was most interested in
the girl I speak of. She was really your double,--but she did things
that I don't believe you could compass,--athletic as you are."

"I'd like to see it," said Azalea, thoughtfully.

"Oh, go with me, will you? I'm going to stay up here over the
week-end,--and we could skip down to-morrow afternoon, and be back by
dinner time."

"I'd love to go,--but Patty doesn't greatly approve of the 'movies.'"

"Oh, never mind that. You've a right to go, if you choose. And you
needn't say where we're going, till we get back. Say we're going to take
in a matinee."

"Well, I'll go," Azalea said decidedly, "for I'm crazy to see that play.
What's the girl's name?"

"Dunno. It wasn't on the bill. But, truly, Azalea, you'll be surprised
to see how much like you she is!"

Azalea hesitated. She knew it was taking a great risk to go with Phil,
but she was most anxious to see how she looked on the screen.

This, she knew, was the first picture released in which she had taken a
part. It was only a small part, but she had done well, the manager said,
and that had been the reason for her further advancement.

She had wanted to see it over at the studio, but her visits there had
been so hurried, and she had been so eager to get back, she never dared
take the time to see the pictures exhibited.

The two returned to the house, and Patty greeted them gaily.

"Well, wanderers, you're the last of the company to report! Where have
you been?"

"Surveying your domain, ma'am," Phil replied; "it's most beautiful by
moonlight,--especially when viewed in company with a fair lady."

He bowed gallantly to Azalea, who was looking her best,--a slight blush
of excitement on her cheeks at the compliment.

"It _is_ lovely," she said; "the house, from the west lawn, is a
wonderful picture! Patty, Mr. Van Reypen has asked me to go to New York
with him to-morrow afternoon,--to a matinee. May I?"

"Certainly, my child. And as Mona and I are going down in the early
afternoon, we'll all go together in the big car."

Then all went to the hall for a dance. The large reception hall was
admirably adapted for this purpose, and the strains of a fine phonograph
soon set all feet in motion.

Dancing with Raymond Gale, Azalea pirouetted gaily with some fancy
steps.

"Good!" he cried, falling into the spirit of the thing, and they pranced
about in a mad whirl.

"How Western she is," Elise said to Phil, with whom she was sedately
one-stepping.

"Clever dancer," he returned, briefly, and the subject was not
continued.

"Come for a walk," said Gale to Azalea, as the dance was over.

"No; let's sit on the porch a minute," she preferred.

"Come along to this end, then, for I want to say something particular,"
he urged, and they found a pleasant seat, from which they could see the
moon through the leafy wistaria branches.

"Look here, Azalea," Gale began, "I know what you're up to,--with the
Bixbys."

"What!" Azalea's voice was full of fear.

"Yes, and there's no reason you should be so secretive about it."

"Oh, Raymond,--there _is_ reason! Don't tell on me, will you?"

"Of course not,--if you forbid it. But when Farnsworth asks me, what am
I to say?"

"What does he ask you?"

"Who the Bixbys are. And other awkward questions. You see, I know old
Bixby,--and I knew as soon as I saw him here that day that he had drawn
you into his snares."

"Don't put it that way--I wasn't exactly drawn in."

"Well, you're in, all right. Why, Azalea, I saw you in a picture in New
York, night before last."

"You did?"

"Yes; in 'Star of the West.' Don't try to fib out of it--"

"What!"

"Now you needn't get mad! I know you're not entirely above a little
fibbing, now and then!"

"I think I'll go in the house,--I don't like you."

"Oh, Zaly, behave yourself. Be a sensible girl, and face the music! Why
don't you own it all up, and tell Farnsworth the whole story? It isn't a
criminal thing to act in the 'movies.'"

"They think it is,--Bill and Patty. They'd never forgive me!"

"Oh, pshaw, they would, too! Anyway, I want you to do it,--tell 'em, I
mean. Won't you, Zaly,--won't you,--for my sake?"

Gale was sincere and earnest, and Azalea thrilled to the strong
tenderness in his voice as he urged her.

But she hesitated to consent.

"I can't, Ray," she said, at last. "Truly, I can't. They'd--they'd turn
me off--"

"Oh, Azalea, what nonsense! They'd do no such thing!"

"Yes, they would. You don't know Bill. He's good and generous and
kind,--but he hates anything like deceit,--and almost worse, he hates
the whole moving-picture racket. I don't mean the pictures themselves,
exactly,--but the idea of anybody of his being in them. And, oh,
Ray,--it isn't only myself,--but I took--I took--"

"I know,--you took the kiddy."

"Yes, I did. It didn't seem any harm, at first, and then, one day when I
brought her home,--she was sleepy,--unusually so, I mean, and Nurse
said she had been given soothing sirup,--and--I found out afterward she
had! Mrs. Bixby had given her some, to keep her quiet in the picture,
you know. Of course, I never dreamed of such a thing,--why, Ray, that
little girl is as dear to me,--almost,--as she is to Patty! I wouldn't
harm a hair of her blessed little curly head! And I'd never have allowed
a drop of that sirup, if I'd known it! But I just gave her to Mrs. Bixby
to hold, while I changed my costume,--Mrs. Bixby seems a good woman--"

"Oh, come now, I don't believe it hurt the child."

"You don't know anything about such things. I don't know much, but I
know they must never have a bit of that stuff! Anyway, Ray?--we must go
in now,--don't give my secret away until I give you permission, will
you?"

"No; if you'll promise to think it over and try to believe what I've
told you,--that it's best to tell all."

"All right, I'll promise that, and I may decide to tell. But I want to
wait until after to-morrow, anyway."




CHAPTER XIV

AT THE PICTURE PLAY


By a little adroit manoeuvring Van Reypen managed things so that he and
Azalea did not go to New York in the motor with Patty and Mona, but went
down by themselves in the train.

For Azalea was most anxious that Patty should not know she was going to
the moving pictures, and especially that she was going to see "Star of
the West."

It had already become a popular picture and was drawing crowds. And
though Azalea's part in it was a small one, yet her work was so good
that one or two reviews had mentioned it approvingly.

Azalea had hoped that it would be possible to let Van Reypen continue in
his mistaken impression that the girl on the screen was not herself, but
some one who looked marvellously like her.

But the first sight of herself in the play so thrilled Azalea that she
was unable to repress an exclamation of surprised delight.

"It _is_ you, Azalea!" whispered Phil, realising the truth. "How _did_
you manage it? Oh, you wonderful girl!"

Azalea looked at him in astonishment. In the dim light of the theatre
she could see his face glowing with pride and pleasure.

She gave a little gasp. "Oh, Phil, aren't you--I mean--are you _glad_
about it?"

"I don't know,--Azalea,--it seems so queer--but, oh, look at that! Did
you really do that, Azalea!"

For the girl on the screen had flung herself, bareback, on a vicious,
bucking pony, and holding on by his mane, went through the most
hairbreadth escapes, yet was not thrown. Indeed, she finally tamed the
wild creature, and dashed madly off on her errand. This was the rescue
of a baby who had been left behind, when those who should have looked
after the child were themselves fleeing from a cyclone.

The scene was remarkably well staged, and the illusion of the cyclone
wonderfully worked out.

The baby, left to the care of servants, was in a lightly built house
that rocked in the blasts. It threatened to collapse at any minute, and
Azalea, racing against time, in the face of the gale, spurred on her
flying steed, and reached the house just as it crashed to ruins.

Flinging herself from the horse, she dashed into the piles of debris,
and, the gale nearly blowing her off her feet, contrived to find the
child.

Of course, in the taking of the picture, Fleurette had been in no danger
whatever; in fact, had not been in the falling house at all, until time
for Azalea to find her in the ruins.

But this was not apparent to the audience. To them it seemed that the
baby must have been there all the time.

Van Reypen sat breathless, watching the screen with rapt attention.

He thought little of the baby's danger, knowing the methods of making
pictures, but he was lost in admiration of Azalea, her fine athletic
figure, and her free, strong motions, as she battled with the winds and
triumphantly snatched the baby from harm.

Then, the child in one arm, she flung herself again on the pony's back,
the animal prancing wildly, but tractable beneath Azalea's determined
guidance, and they were off like the wind itself to a place of safety.
The wild ride was picturesque, if frightful, and there was a burst of
applause from the spectators, as Azalea, panting, exhausted, but safe,
at last reached her goal, and leaning down from the horse, placed the
baby in the arms of its weeping, distracted mother.

Azalea's beauty was of the sort that needs excitement or physical
exertion to bring out its best effects and as she stood beside the
quivering, spent horse, her own heart beating quickly, her own breath
coming hard, she was a picture of vivid beauty.

Her dress was disordered, her hair hung in loosened coils, her collar
was half torn off by the wind, but the happy smile and the justifiable
pride in her success lighted up her countenance till it was fairly
radiant.

"By cricky, you're stunning!" exclaimed Phil, under his breath, as he
grasped her hand in congratulation.

And so, because of his praise and appreciation Azalea forgot her fears
of censure from the Farnsworths and gave herself up to the delights of
the moment.

She would not have felt so comfortable had she heard Patty's remarks at
sight of the picture.

Patty and Mona had come to the theatre later than Azalea, and had been
given seats on the other side of the large house. The darkness, too,
made it unlikely that they should see each other, and so Azalea remained
in blissful ignorance of Patty's presence.

* * * * *

"Of course, it's Azalea," Patty said to Mona, the moment the girl
appeared on the screen. "I--oh, I don't know _what_ to think about
it,--but, isn't she splendid!"

"She is! That rig is most becoming to her, and she has such poise,--so
strong and free, yet graceful."

"She's certainly at her best."

"Of course, the director saw her possibilities and has brought out all
her best points. How pretty her hair is,--loose, like that."

"Yes, she's a real beauty,--of the true breezy, Western type. But, Mona,
what _will_ Bill say? I do believe I shall feel more lenient about it
all than he will! He is conservative, you know, for all his Western
bringing up. Oh, my gracious, Mona, _what's_ she doing now?"

"She'll kill herself with that wild horse! She _never_ can get on his
back!"

In a state of great excitement, they watched Azalea's skilful management
of the pony and clutched each other's hands in speechless fear as she
tore through the gale to rescue her brother's child.

And then--when at last Azalea emerged from the tumbled-down ruin of the
little old house, with a baby in her arms, Patty gave a cry of startled
fear, and then clapped her hand over her mouth, lest her dismay be too
evident to those sitting near by.

"Mona!" she whispered, "it's Fleurette!"

"No! I don't believe it! You can't tell,--such a _little_ baby--they all
look alike,--you're imagining, Patty--"

"It is! it _is_! That's where they went when Azalea took Baby off for a
whole day,--and two or three times for an afternoon or a morning! Oh, I
can't _stand_ it!"

Patty buried her face in her hands and refused to look up while Azalea
rode the galloping horse, with the child held fast in one arm.

Mona felt it must be true. To be sure she couldn't really recognise
Fleurette's face, but she was certain that Patty's mother heart could
make no mistake, and it was small wonder that she was overcome at seeing
her child in such scenes.

"Hush, Patty," said Mona, as Patty's sobs began to sound hysterical,
"hush,--this is only a picture, you know,--this isn't really
Fleurette,--she is safe at home--"

"But she must have been here! Azalea _must_ have carried her,
_really_--on that terrific horse! They couldn't have got the pictures
if she hadn't!"

"Well, it's all right, anyway. It didn't hurt the baby--"

"Oh, hush, Mona! you don't know what I'm suffering! I guess if your baby
had been taken off and put through such awful doings, you'd know what I
feel! My baby,--my little flower baby! In that awful crashing, tumbling
down old shanty! Oh, I _can't_ stand it!"

"Let's go out, Patty, there's no reason for us to stay longer."

"Yes, let's," and gathering up her wraps, Patty rose to go.

They made their way out of the dark, crowded place, and finding the
motor-car, they went straight home.

Once there, Patty flew to the nursery, and fairly snatching the baby
from Nurse Winnie's arms, she held it close, and crooned loving little
broken songs.

"You're all right," Mona said, laughing at her. "You've got your baby,
safe and sound,--now just sit down there and enjoy her for a while."

This Patty gladly did, and Mona went in search of Farnsworth.

She finally found him, down in a distant garden, where he was looking
after some planting matters.

"Come along o' me," she said, smiling at him.

Wonderingly Farnsworth looked up.

"Thought you girls went to the city," he said.

"We did,--also, we returned. Patty is in the nursery, and I want a few
minutes' talk with you."

"O.K.," and the big man gave some parting instructions to a gardener and
then went off with Mona. She led him to a nearby arbour, and commenced
at once.

"You and I are old friends," she said, "and so I'm going to take an
old friend's privilege and give you some advice, and also ask a few
questions. First, who is Azalea?"

"My two or three times removed cousin."

"Are you sure?"

Farnsworth looked at her. "What do you mean, Mona?"

"What I say; are you _sure_?"

"Funny thing to ask. Well,--I am and--I'm not."

"Now, what do _you_ mean?"

"I'll tell you." And then he told her how queer he thought it that
Azalea had had no letters from her father since her arrival,--nor any
letters at all from Horner's Corners.

"And she's so sly about it," he wound up; "why once she wrote a letter
to herself, and pretended it was from her father!"

"I can't make it out," Mona mused. "If her father were dead, she'd have
no reason to conceal the fact. Nor if he had remarried. And if he has
done anything disgraceful--maybe that's it, Bill! Maybe he's in jail!"

"I've thought of that, Mona, and, of course, it's a possibility. That
would explain her not getting letters, and her unwillingness to tell
the reason. But,--somehow, it isn't very plausible. Why shouldn't she
confide in me? I've begged her to,--and no matter what Uncle Thorpe may
have done, it's no real reflection on Azalea."

"No; but now _I've_ something to tell you about the girl."

Mona gave him a full account of the moving-picture play that she and
Patty had visited, and told him, too, of Patty's distress over the
pictures of Fleurette.

Farnsworth was greatly amazed, but, like Mona, he knew Patty could not
be mistaken as to the identity of Fleurette.

"And I just thought," Mona went on, "that I'd tell you before Patty
did,--for,--oh, well, this is my real reason,--Patty is so wrought up
and so wild over the Fleurette matter that she can't judge Azalea
fairly,--and I don't want to have injustice done to her at this stage of
the game. For, Bill, Azalea has real talent,--real dramatic genius, _I_
think, and if there's no reason against it,--except conventional
ones,--I think she ought to be allowed to become a motion-picture
actress. She's bound to make good,--she has the right sort of a face for
the screen,--beautiful, mobile, expressive, and really, a speaking
countenance. Why, she'd make fame and fortune, I'm positive."

"Oh, Mona! what utter rubbish! One of _our_ people in the 'movies'!
Impossible!"

"I knew you'd say that! And I know Patty will say--oh, good Heavens, I
don't know _what_ Patty will say! But I do know this; she would have
been sensible and would have felt just as I do about it, if it hadn't
been for the Fleurette part of it. Before the baby appeared on the
screen Patty was really delighted with Azalea. She was enthusiastic
about her talent and her beauty,--really, Bill, she looked very
beautiful in the pictures."

"Oh, Zaly is good-looking enough. But her taking our baby is--why,
there's no term suitable! Where is Azalea!"

"I hope nowhere near, while you look like that!" and Mona laughed. "Your
expression is positively murderous!"

"I feel almost that way! Just think, Mona, Azalea is _my_ relative! I
inflicted her on Patty, poor little Patty--"

"Oh, come now, Bill, don't overdo it! Azalea was most daring and even
foolish, but not criminal. You know how she loves that child, and you
know she wouldn't let harm come near her."

"But accidents might happen, for all Azalea's care and watchfulness--"

"I know that, but an accident might happen to Winnie when she takes Baby
out in her coach!"

"Are you standing up for Azalea?"

"That's just what I'm doing! I'm glad you've got it through your head
at last. And I ask this of you, old friend. Whatever you do or say to
Azalea, think it well over beforehand. If you talk to Patty, as she is
feeling now you'll both be ready to tar and feather poor Zaly; and,
truly, she doesn't deserve it! Please, Bill, go slow,--and be just. Be
generous if you can,--but at any rate, be just. That's all I ask. And
you can't be just if you act on impulse,--so, go slow. Will you?"

"Yes, Mona,--there's my hand on it We're not often over-impulsive,--Patty
and I,--but in this case we may be,--might have been,--if you hadn't
warned me. You're a good girl, Mona, and I thank you for your foresight
and real kindness,"

And so Farnsworth went in search of Patty with a resolve to try to
reason out the matter with a fair consideration of all sides of it.

He found his wife and daughter in the nursery.

Patty had sent Winnie off, feeling that she must hold Fleurette in her
arms for some time, in order to realise that she was safe from the
whirling winds of that awful cyclone!

When Bill appeared, Patty began at once, and launched forth a full
description of the picture play, and of Azalea's and Fleurette's parts
in it.

Farnsworth sat looking at her, his blue eyes full of a contented
admiration. To this simple-minded, big-hearted man, his wife and child
represented the whole world. All he had, all he owned, he valued only
for the pleasure it might mean to them.

"Darling," he said, as she finished the tale, "what do _you_ think about
it all?"

"Mona's been talking to you!" Patty cried, with sudden intuition.

"What! How do you know? You clair-voyant!"

"Of course I know," and Patty wagged a wise head at him. "First,
because you're not sufficiently surprised,--she told you all about it!
And second, because you're not furious at Azalea! Mona has talked you
around to her way of thinking,--which is, that Azalea is a genius,--and
that--"

"That Fleurette is another! Think of being on the screen at the tender
age of six months!"

"You're a wretch! you're a monster! you're a--a--dromedary!"

Patty was feeling decidedly better about the whole matter. Having sat
for nearly an hour, holding and fondling her idolised child, she
realised that whatever Fleurette had gone through, she was safe
now,--and that whatever was to be done to Azalea by way of punishment,
was more Bill's affair than hers.

"You don't care two cents for your wonder-child! Your own little
buttercup,--your daffy-downdilly baby!" she cried, in pretended
reproof, and then Farnsworth took Fleurette and tossed her about until
she squealed with glee.

"Oh, I guess we'll keep her," he said, as he handed her back to her
mother's arms. "She's the paragon baby of the whole world, even if I
don't appreciate her."

"Oh, you do! you _do_!" exclaimed Patty, remorseful now at having teased
him. "And now, Sweet William, what's _your_ idea of a right and proper
punishment for Cousin Azalea?"

"That's a matter for some thought," he responded, mindful of Mona's
words. "Look here, Patty, quite aside from Fleurette's connection with
this case,--what's your opinion of Zaly as a 'movie' star?"

"She's great, dear,--she really is. And--if she weren't our relative--"

"_My_ relative--"

"_Our_ relative, I should advise her to go in for the thing seriously;
but,--I may be over-conservative,--even snobbish, but I do hate to have
our cousin's portrait all over the fences and ashbarrels, and in all the
Sunday papers, and--"

"I don't mind that publicity so much as I do the possible effects on
Azalea's life. I don't know that the career of a 'movie' star is as full
of dangerous pitfalls as the theatrical line, but--I hate to see Azalea
subjected to them,--for her own sake."

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