Just Patty | Page 2

Conny warned. "Here she comes."
The Latin teacher, in passing, paused on the threshold. Conny
disentangled herself from the mixture of clothes and books and sofa
cushions that littered the bed, and politely rose to her feet. Patty slid
down from the white iron foot-rail, and Priscilla descended from the
top of the trunk.
"Ladies don't perch about on the furniture."
"No, Miss Lord," they murmured in unison, gazing back from three
pairs of wide, uplifted eyes. They knew, from gleeful past experience,
that nothing so annoyed her as smiling acquiescence.
Miss Lord's eyes critically studied the room. Patty was still in traveling
dress.
"Put on your uniform, Patty, and finish unpacking. The trunks go down
to-morrow morning."
"Yes, Miss Lord."
"Priscilla and Constance, why aren't you out of doors with the other
girls, enjoying this beautiful autumn weather?"
"But we haven't seen Patty for such a long time, and now that we are
separated--" commenced Conny, with a pathetic droop of her mouth.
"I trust that your lessons will benefit by the change. You, Patty and
Priscilla, are going to college, and should realize the necessity of being
prepared. Upon the thorough foundation that you lay here depends your
success for the next four years--for your whole lives, one might say.
Patty is weak in mathematics and Priscilla in Latin. Constance could
improve her French. Let us see what you can do when you really try."
She divided a curt nod between the three and withdrew.

"We are happy in our work and we dearly love our teachers," chanted
Patty, with ironical emphasis, as she rummaged out a blue skirt and
middy blouse with "St. U." in gold upon the sleeve.
While she was dressing, Priscilla and Conny set about transferring the
contents of her trunk to her bureau, in whatever order the articles
presented themselves--but with a carefully folded top layer. The
overworked young teacher, who performed the ungrateful task of
inspecting sixty-four bureaus and sixty-four closets every Saturday
morning, was happily of an unsuspicious nature. She did not penetrate
below the crust.
"Lordy needn't make such a fuss over my standing," said Priscilla,
frowning over an armful of clothes. "I passed everything except Latin."
"Take care, Pris! You're walking on my new dancing dress," cried Patty,
as her head emerged from the neck of the blouse.
Priscilla automatically stepped off a mass of blue chiffon, and resumed
her plaint.
"If they think sticking me in with Job's youngest daughter is going to
improve my prose composition--"
"I simply can't study till they take Irene McCullough out of my room,"
Conny echoed. "She's just like a lump of sticky dough."
"Wait till you get acquainted with Mae Mertelle!" Patty sat on the floor
in the midst of the chaos, and gazed up at the other two with wide,
solemn eyes. "She brought five evening gowns cut low, and all her
shoes have French heels. And she laces--my dears! She just holds in
her breath and pulls. But that isn't the worst." She lowered her voice to
a confidential whisper. "She's got some red stuff in a bottle. She says
it's for her finger nails, but I saw her putting it on her face."
"Oh!--not really?" in a horrified whisper from Conny and Priscilla.
Patty shut her lips and nodded.

"Isn't it dreadful?"
"Awful!" Conny shuddered.
"I say, let's mutiny!" cried Priscilla. "Let's make the Dowager give us
back our old rooms in Paradise Alley."
"But how?" inquired Patty, two parallel wrinkles appearing on her
forehead.
"Tell her that unless she does, we won't stay."
"That would be sensible!" Patty jeered. "She'd ring the bell and order
Martin to hitch up the hearse and drive us to the station for the
six-thirty train. I should think you'd know by this time that you can't
bluff the Dowager."
"There's no use threatening," Conny agreed. "We must appeal to her
feeling of--of--"
"Affection," said Patty.
Conny stretched out a hand and brought her up standing.
"Come on, Patty, you're good at talking. We'll go down now while our
courage is up.--Are your hands clean?"
The three staunchly approached the door of Mrs. Trent's private study.
"I'll use diplomacy," Patty whispered, as she turned the knob in
response to the summons from within. "You people nod your heads at
everything I say."
Patty did use all the diplomacy at her command. Having dwelt
touchingly upon their long friendship, and their sorrow at being
separated, she passed lightly to the matter of their new room-mates.
"They are doubtless very nice girls," she ended politely, "only, you see,
Mrs. Trent, they don't match us; and it is extremely hard to concentrate

one's mind upon lessons, unless one has a congenial room-mate."
Patty's steady, serious gaze suggested that lessons were the end of her
existence. A brief smile