Patty Blossom | Page 8

her against her will that she was pettish and crude to rebel at the unwholesome atmosphere inside. "You don't understand," he said gently. "Give us a fair trial. That's all I ask. I know your inner nature will respond, if you give it its freedom. Ah, freedom! That's all we aim for,--all we desire."
Through the window, Patty heard the sound of weird strains of music.
"Come on," she cried, "I do want to see this thing through. If that's the program beginning, take me in. I want to hear it."
They returned to the Studio, and Blaney found two seats which commanded a view of the platform. The seats were uncomfortable, being small wooden stools, and the air was still clouded with smoke of various sorts. But, determinedly, Patty prepared to listen to the revelations that awaited her. She had long had a curiosity to know what "Bohemia" meant, and now she expected to find out. They were nowhere near their own crowd. In fact, she couldn't see Elise or Mona, though Philip was visible between some rickety armour and a tattered curtain. Very handsome he looked, too, his dark, and just now gloomy, face thrown into relief by the "artistic" background.
"Apparently, Mr. Van Reypen is not enjoying himself," Blaney commented, with a quiet chuckle. "He's not our sort."
This remark jarred upon Patty, and she was about to make a spirited retort, when the music began.
A girl was at the piano. Her gown, of burlaps, made Patty think it had been made from an old coffee sack. But it had a marvelous sash of flaming vermilion velvet, edged with gold fringe, and in her black hair was stuck a long, bright red quill feather, that gave her an Indian effect.
"I think her gown is out of key," Patty whispered, "and I am sure her music is!"
Blaney smiled. "She is a law unto herself," he replied, "that is an arbitrary minor scale, played in sixths and with a contrary motion."
Patty stared. This was a new departure in music and was interesting.
"Note the cynicism in the discords," Blaney urged, and Patty began to wonder if she could be losing her mind or just finding it.
The performance concluded and a rapt silence followed. It seemed applause was undesired by these geniuses.
Philip stirred, restlessly, and looked over at Patty. She looked away, fearing he would silently express to her his desire to go home, and she wanted to stay to see more.
The girl who had played glided to a side seat, and her place was taken by another young woman, who presented an even more astonishing appearance. This time, the costume was of a sort of tapestry, heavily embroidered in brilliant hued silks. It was not unbeautiful, but it seemed to Patty more appropriate for upholstery purposes than for a dress.
The lady recited what may have been poems, and were, according to Blaney's whispered information, but as they were in some queer foreign language, they were utterly unintelligible.
"What was it all about?" Patty asked, as the recitations were at last over.
"My dear child, couldn't you gather it all,--all, from the marvellous attitudinising,--the wonderful intoning----"
"'Deed I couldn't! I've no idea what she was getting at, and I don't believe you have, either."
"Oh, yes, it was the glory of a soul on fire,--an immolation of genius on the altar of victory----"
"That sounds to me like rubbish," and Patty smiled frankly into the eyes of the man addressing her.
"Not rubbish, Miss Fairfield. Oh, what a pleasure it will be to enlighten your ignorance! To teach the eyes of your soul to see, the heart of your soul to beat----"
Again, it was the voice of the man that commanded her attention. The tones of Sam Blaney's speaking voice were of such a luring, persuasive quality that Patty felt herself agreeing and assenting to what she knew was nonsense.
But now Van Reypen was striding toward them. Patty saw at a glance that Phil was at the end of his rope. No more of this nonsense for him.
She was right. As Blaney's attention was diverted for a moment, Phil said, "Patty, you're going right straight out of this. It's no place for you! I'm ashamed to have you here. Get your wraps, and we'll go, whether the Farringtons are ready or not. We can walk over to Pine Laurel,--it isn't far. Come."
"I won't do it!" Patty returned, crisply. "The idea, Phil, of your ordering me around like that! I want to stay, and I'm going to stay. You can go, if you like; I'll come home with Roger and the girls."
"But I don't like it, Patty, and I don't like to have you here. It's--it's----"
"Well, what is it? I think it's great fun, and I'm going to see it out."
"Even if I ask you not to? Even if I beg you to