The Tryst (Annotated) (Grace Livingston Hill Book) (16 page)

“What is there to do?” asked Patty quietly, a tone of dismay in her voice. Things had just simmered down so pleasantly and she and Miss Cole were enjoying themselves together so much, reading aloud and taking walks and drives about the beautiful mountain country. 

“Oh, nothing very serious. But it may take time. Just pull out that big hamper that came yesterday from New York, won't you, and open it while I get into my battle array.” 

Patty went soberly about the work, and for a few moments there was silence while Miss Cole dressed and Patty worked with unaccustomed fingers over the heavily knotted cords that fastened the canvas cover. 

“There's the key,” said Miss Cole briskly, fumbling among the pile of morning mail on her bed stand and tossing a small tagged key to the girl. Just unlock it and take things out. Spread things around on the chairs anywhere. I want to see what’s there.” 

Patty opened the big willow hamper, threw back the tissue-paper covers and gave a soft exclamation of girlish delight. 

“Oh!” she cried. “I suppose they are Miss Horliss-Cole's things! Aren't they lovely! Do you want them hung up for her? And what room is she to have? Why, mine of course; how stupid. And couldn't I have a cot in that little dressing room?”

“No, you couldn't! You're to stay right in the room where you are, and Marjorie can take what she can get. I have an option on the room and bath across the hall for her, and you might just 'phone down to the office that it's all right, I'll keep it. But those things are not Marjorie's. She’ll bring her own truck with her, enough to clothe a whole orphan asylum; she always does. Those things are for my Companion to wear when she is doing my work. I ordered them, and I certainly hope they will fit you. You see, I can't have you going around always in the same color, even if it is the prettiest outfit anybody ever had. Edith Adams-Fisher should be suitably dressed at all times or my game's up, you understand. What a pity you hadn't thought to put in that Adams as a middle name. I'll see that it's recognized. It sounds well. Now, what I want you to do is to try on all those things, and if any of them aren't right, we'll have to get a seamstress from somewhere and have them altered. No, no protests. This is my work, you understand, and all this paraphernalia is a part of the scheme. It wouldn't work without it, and if everything doesn't go right now it won't be your fault.” 

“But Miss Co--” 

“There! You're forgetting again!” (sharply). “I shouldn't like that to happen in public.” 

“But really, dear friend,” protested Patty, tears of distress coming into her eyes and a tremble in her voice, “I couldn't be an object of charity, you know. If you would let me pay for these things-- But truly, I would rather not have them, for they aren’t, any of them, suitable for a person in my position.” 

“Pay for them all you like,” retorted the old lady glibly. “You can have all the time you like to pay for any you want to keep after this is over, but mind you, you don't need to feel that way, for I want these things to use for a purpose, and as for your position, it suits my purpose that you shall be a young society girl on a perfect equality with Marjorie. It’s what you really are anyway, so that ought not to trouble you any, and if things come out as I hope, as I confidently expect, I shall be amply repaid. Come, try on that dark blue tricolette. You needed one or two little frocks like that to run around in mornings and that looks very suitable and simple. I just wrote up to a friend of mine, a buyer in one of the big New York stores, and told her a young cousin of mine was visiting me, and staying longer than she expected and wanted to have a few things sent down. I knew she'd do the correct thing. I gave her your size and told her to get such things as she would select for Marjorie.” 

Patty with much protest arrayed herself in the pretty clothes to the thorough satisfaction of Miss Cole, who fairly gloated over the delicate beauty of the girl, and her sweet unconsciousness of it. And while they tried on and criticized or praised the selections. Miss Cole was all the time giving little hints of her longing that her own niece should learn to know a sweet wholesome girlhood. 

“She's only been to finishing schools,” she sighed. “It makes me sick! Kate is all for show! You tell her about your schools, and the college life. I believe Marjorie has it in her to be a real sensible child if she only had half a chance. Aren't there riding things in there? I ordered them. It’s one of the great sports here, riding, and Marjorie’s crazy about it. I want you two to go around together and have a good time, m be all right sitting on the piazza or in my room reading, you know, and I don't want you to try to hang around me. Just follow Marjorie's lead. She never could bear to be alone, and shell take to you and lead you a life of it, I can see that from the start.” 

Patty Merrill tried to laugh gaily over the prospect, but inwardly her heart misgave her and she looked forward to no pleasant association with the girl who was coming, for there had been that in the toss of Marjorie Horliss-Cole's haughty head, and the curl of her handsome lip that left no doubt in Patty's mind how the young woman would be likely to regard her aunt’s Companion as considered in the light of a social equal. The situation looked quite impossible to Patty Merrill, and as she hung in her closet the beautiful addition to her own beautiful but meagre wardrobe she sighed quietly and wished with all her heart she might run away again. It seemed that if one once ran away from troubles one had always to be doing it. Perhaps her father had been right in telling her to brave things out, and she should have remained at home and faced the trouble whatever it was. Troubles never seemed to disappear or grow less when one ran away from them, and here she was face to face with another one now. Well, perhaps it would disappear if she just stayed quietly and faced it. John Treeves had been a trouble, too, and she had bided her time quietly a day and he had gone away. Not that she wanted him to go, for it had been most pleasant to know that under the same great roof there was a friend whom she had known and could trust in any time of need; but it had been so hard to feel that she must guard against meeting him. Well, perhaps Marjorie would be bored and leave too. What was the use of worrying, only it had all been so pleasant with Miss Cole, and she had felt so safe and contented, and now to have it spoiled by this intrusion. Well, it could not be helped and she must make the best of it. She was in a queer mix-up and must stay by it at least until she could get word from her father and be able to ask his advice. 

So the day passed on and the evening came and with it Miss Marjorie Horliss-Cole, who opened her large eyes widely and wore on her lips a slight touch of aristocratic contempt as she looked over her aunt’s Companion and noticed that she did not look any more like a person in that position than she had when she was hired. 

She was shut in her aunt's room for a good two hours before Patty was finally called. Patty never knew just what arguments the aunt used nor how she explained her whim of cousinship, but quite naturally when she entered the room Miss Cole remarked: “Edith, I want you to take your Cousin Marjorie into her room where I won't hear your chatter, and cheer her up. She's as blue as indigo, and I can't have blue people around me. I'll ship her back to New York to-morrow morning if she can't brighten up.” 

Marjorie Horliss-Cole turned her great eyes, filled with a smouldering discontent, upon the fair young girl who stood in the doorway smiling wistfully, and her manner was most stiff and condescending. It was plain she had promised to accept the new cousin outwardly, at least, but that she did not intend to let her in to the inner sanctuary of her being, and that she resented the idea of a servant being a social equal. 

Patty, inwardly shrinking but true to her promise to Miss Cole that she would do her best, put out a friendly smile. There was comradeship -- not too much -- and apology in it. There was also a look of selflessness that astonished and held the world-wearied girl. This seemed a new phase of girl, and interested her in spite of herself. 

“Come on,” said Patty invitingly, throwing open the door. “Your room has a perfectly luscious view. The moon is just about due behind the mountain. Don't you want to watch it rise?" 

There was something about Patty that was wholly disarming. There might also have been something in the fact that she was so new to playing a part that it was much easier to be herself than Edith Fisher. In spite of her prejudices Marjorie Horliss-Cole was drawn to forget that this girl was in the position of a servant and followed her. 

Patty drew her within the room across the hall, switched on the light and then stood back, looking up confidingly: 

“Please don’t blame me about this cousin business, Miss Horliss-Cole,” she said with sweet dignity, and another alluring smile. “I tried my best to persuade Miss Cole that it could not be, but she seemed so determined that I had to give up. And besides, I find she has made the matter rather public here in the house so that it would look queer for her to withdraw; but I assure you I shall not bother you cousining you. I know just how you must feel toward me, and I hate the idea of it myself. So please feel perfectly safe that I shall not bother you at all; and if you wish me to go away entirely I can do that. I don't want to presume, or to masquerade as a relative of the family.” 

The haughty aristocrat eyed her wonderingly for a moment and then flashed a friendly smile at her: 

“You're a queer girl,” she said. “I believe I like you. I think you'd better stay. I shall probably be bored to death, and if you weren't here I should be tied down to Aunt Sylvia's side. What in the world are you doing this for anyway? You aren't a spy, are you? You're too young and pretty for that, and besides, what would there be to spy down here, and now that the war is over, too. But anyone can see with a glance that you are not a servant or else you're awfully clever. Perhaps it's both. Come on and sit down and talk to me awhile and we'll watch that moon rise although I'm sure I never cared much for moons.” 

“Oh, but they have such wonderful ones here,” said Patty ecstatically. “Here, you sit in the deep chair. That’s just at the right angle to watch the crotch of the two mountains where the light begins to grow first. We'll turn out the light so we can see it better. I watched it come last night and it was wonderful.” 

“You certainly are queer,” murmured Marjorie impolitely. “You make me curious.” 

She dropped listlessly into a chair, already forgetting her spurt of interest in Patty. 

Patty curled up in the wide window-seat with a pillow at her back and her head tilted sideways against the window-frame, a pretty picture. 

“I suppose you're a country girl,” drawled Marjorie, watching her idly, with already a resumption of the patronage in her tone. 

“Oh, no,” said Patty brightly ignoring it. “My home is in the city, but I’ve been in the country at school and college all my life.” 

“College? Did you go to college?” asked Marjorie wonderingly. 

“Just graduated this spring,” vouchsafed Patty carelessly as if it were a small thing. 

“You look awfully young for that,” said Marjorie half jealously. “Did you ever play basket-ball?” 

“Oh, surely. Love it.” 

“I was captain of our team at school.”

“Grand! I knew you'd done things when I first saw you!” Patty had forgotten that she was a Companion with a capital C, and was just a college girl now, talking as she might have talked to her roommate. Marjorie Horliss-Cole felt flattered by the genuineness of Patty's tone and grew more interested. 

“Well, the coach said I was a dandy player,” she admitted reminiscently. “We had a simply peachy coach. He treated us just as if we were men -- said it was the only way to make a real team out of us, and he certainly did get results. We played away over all the other schools this year. You ought to see him. He's awfully fine looking and has the finest pair of shoulders in New York. Were you ever in love –Miss-- Fisher?” 

“In love? Oh, dear me, no; I don't think so -- at least --I guess not. But couldn't you call me Edith? That will be easier, and it isn't a bit more intimate. It just doesn't sound so stiff.” 

“Well, then, Edith, do you really mean you were never in love? Don't you know any men?” 

“Why, yes, of course, but not any special ones. At least --there was a boy once, and we had awfully good times together one summer, but we were just children, of course. We liked each other, but that was all.” 

“Well, I'm, in love!” sighed Miss Horliss-Cole. “And I'm very unhappy!” she added, and suddenly with a choking sob she flung herself down at Patty's feet and buried her face in Patty's lap, weeping violently. 

Patty was not a little disconcerted at this confidence. She recalled vividly Mrs. Horliss-Cole's tone as she upbraided her daughter and it occurred to her that she was occupying a most critical position at present. But her warm little heart was instantly enlisted in sympathy, and her hand went tenderly out and smoothed the beautiful dark head on her lap. 

“I'm awfully sorry you're unhappy,” she murmured gently. “Would you care to tell me about it?” 

Miss Horliss-Cole appeared to be somewhat comforted at the sympathetic tone, and turned her face so that her voice could be heard: 

“It's all mamma that's making the trouble,” she sighed. “She won't stand for it at all. She won't even let me see him to say good-bye. I don't mind telling you, because you heard mamma talking in the car that first day anyway. You see he's poor and a nobody, and besides, mamma has no use for athletics. She calls them coarse and low down, and she wants me to come out this winter--!” 

“Aren’t you very young yet?” suggested Patty. “Isn't there plenty of time? I should think if you both really cared you could just wait awhile and everything would come out right. I think if it's the real thing those things come out right somehow, don't you?” 

“Oh, do you think so?” Miss Horliss-Cole lifted a tearful face hopefully. “If you could just see him. He's the most stunning! And he's perfectly crazy about me!” 

“He would be, of course, if he had any sense at all,” laughed Patty gently. “You're rather stunning, you know, when you don't look so unhappy. If I were you I'd forget my troubles and be happy. It pays in the end I'm sure, and it will all come out right somehow. Oh, look, look! The moon is coming! There's the light in the sky over there behind the big pine!”