Part 9 (2/2)
CHAPTER VIII
PATRICIA RECEIVES AN INVITATION
The next few weeks sped pleasantly for Patricia.
Rosamond Merton was an ideal room-mate. She never intruded on Patricia's privacy, nor withdrew unsociably when Patricia felt inclined for chat.
She allowed Patricia to make her own hours for use of the fine piano in her sitting-room and was patient under the many changes which the despotic Tancredi inflicted on the submissive Patricia, s.h.i.+fting her own practicing with such delicate tact that her fellow student scarcely realized her sacrifices.
”She's perfectly wonderful, Norn,” declared Patricia, standing at the studio window one Sunday night about the middle of February. ”She never gets cross or fussed like I do, and she is always so beautifully dressed. I am sometimes quite ashamed of my plain self when we are going about together. I do look awfully little-girly and prim in most of my clothes. I wish I were more ornamental,” she ended with a tiny apologetic frown.
Judith looked at Elinor and nodded. ”I knew it,” she said. ”I knew Miss Pat would be getting spoiled by spending all her time with such a showy person.”
Patricia laughed a short, annoyed laugh. ”Nonsense, Judy. I'm not a bit different. I only wish I didn't have to put all my patrimony into Madame Tancredi's pocket. I hate to go about with Rosamond, looking like her maid. I've worn that same suit to every place we've gone and I believe people think I sleep in it now.”
Elinor looked slightly troubled. ”If you'd only let us get you a new frock----” she began.
Patricia cut her short. ”Hardly,” she said emphatically. ”I've told you all along that I wouldn't sponge on any of you. It's bad enough to take so much from dear old Ted. No, I'll go on exactly as I planned, and I won't get a single new thing until spring.”
This virtuous declaration did not seem to stimulate her as it should have done, for she added, rather dolefully for her, ”I wish I were like Constance Fellows or Ethel Walters. They never seem to mind being shabby.”
”You can scarcely call yourself shabby--and I'm sure Constance loves beautiful things,” said Elinor with gentle firmness. ”You couldn't look at her work and not realize how she gloried in color and form.”
Judith wagged her head wisely. ”Perhaps she can stand doing without pretty things for herself,” she suggested, ”because she can put so much of it into her work.”
This thoughtful sifting for motives was so like Judith that Patricia forgot her grievances in an amused laugh. ”Good for you, Judy-pudy,” she cried, flinging an arm about her small sister. ”There's a hint for me, is it? I'll try to take it, Miss Minerva, and if you hear that my exercises are growing too frilly for Tancredi's taste you'll know the reason why.”
Judith was not at all discomposed by her light-minded raillery. ”I should think it would be a very good thing for you to try, Miss Pat,”
she said sedately. ”Clothes go out of fas.h.i.+on so dreadfully soon nowadays and the singing exercises will last most of your life.”
Patricia watched her leave the room to arrange the materials for the salad dressing--Bruce always made the dressing on Sunday nights--and she smiled at Elinor in a very tender fas.h.i.+on.
”Judy is a wonder,” she confessed. ”She has a mind of her own. I wonder why she's taken such an aversion to Rosamond lately? She never misses a chance to undermine her. Not openly, you know, but in a quiet way. I've noticed it ever since Doris Leighton came back and we had the spread that evening in her room.”
”Judith couldn't have gotten it from Doris,” said Elinor positively. ”I heard all that Doris said about Miss Merton, and it was rather nice. I think you must be over-sensitive, Miss Pat. Judith has been at the Lodge several times since then and she may have been talking with someone who is envious of your Rosamond. She isn't as popular as she might be, you know.”
”Of course, she isn't,” exclaimed Patricia, on the defensive at once.
”She doesn't choose to hobn.o.b with everyone, and so they say she's stuck up, and ultra, and exclusive. If she were as much of a sn.o.b as they say, she certainly wouldn't have chosen to take me in.”
Judith had returned, carrying the salad in its green bowl. She held it precisely between her slender, pale hands as she stood still to confute this heresy.
”You know perfectly well, Miss Pat, that there isn't a prettier girl in the musical set in Artemis Lodge,” she declared with a touch of wrath in her calm tones. ”You are related to a famous artist, and you have Madame Milano for a friend. Miss Merton wouldn't look at you, either, if you didn't have nice clothes and good manners, besides being very well-born indeed, as she certainly knows.”
With this blast delivered, Judith set the salad-bowl carefully down on the table and left the room, her head high and her mane tossing.
Patricia, instead of being amused this time, looked annoyed. ”Judy's getting spoiled, Elinor,” she said, turning away to ramble idly about the room. ”She's as conceited a young imp as I know. These stories of hers have about turned her head. I wish you'd tell her for me that she must behave properly to Rosamond, or she'll have to stay away from the Lodge. I won't have her putting on her superior airs and looking mysterious over nothing with me.”
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