Part 12 (2/2)

”Get some hot water ready for me,” she said in a business-like way that won Patricia's confidence. ”I think it's an attack of the grippe, but I'm not sure yet.”

When Patricia came back with the steaming pitcher, she had finished her investigations. ”It's grippe, all right,” she said, contentedly. ”I know the symptoms without being told a word. I've had it every year since it became the fas.h.i.+on, drat it! We'll have to get the doctor, of course, but I think she can be made more comfortable in the meanwhile.”

”Shall I tell Miss Ardsley before I phone to the doctor?” Patricia asked anxiously.

Constance shook her head. ”Tell her just as soon as you are sure he is on the way,” she advised. ”The Countess is a nuisance about illness. She is scared stiff for fear she'll catch it--whatever it may be. Of course, she has to know--necessary evil--but don't let her in on me till I've freshened up this poor girl.”

Patricia hurried off to telephone to Rosamond's doctor, whom she was fortunate enough to find in his office. And then she came back to the bedroom. Rosamond had her eyes open. Her face was flushed and miserable looking, but she was allowing Constance to arrange her pillows with something like grat.i.tude in her long eyes.

”I've given her an alcohol rub and kept the hot-water bottles to her all the while,” said Constance briskly. ”She'll be feeling better after a by, won't you, Rosamond?”

Rosamond dropped her eyes in a way that meant yes, and Patricia flew to bend over her and whisper her grief at finding her so ill.

”Better not take in any more germs than you can help,” said Constance in a business-like way. ”Clear out, now, young one, and get your breakfast.

The restaurant will be closed if you don't hurry.”

Patricia went off, feeling that she was leaving her friend in competent hands, and after she had finished a hasty meal she went to Miss Ardsley's room to notify her of Rosamond's plight. There was no response to her knock and she was forced to leave without having done her errand.

She met Miss Tatten on the way upstairs, however, and she poured out her tale of woe, grateful for the chance of enlisting the st.u.r.dy common sense of the house-keeper.

”Ah, indeed,” was Miss Tatten's only comment. Her arched eyebrows rose with nervous twitches and her deep contralto voice rolled sonorously.

”Have you notified Miss Ardsley? Has a physician been called?”

Patricia explained why the directress had not been told. ”You'll do beautifully in her place, won't you?” she asked with such evident desire for an affirmative answer that Miss Tatten, being only human and liking Patricia exceedingly, showed signs of melting from her official starched dignity, and promised to come at once.

They went together into the sick-room and Patricia revised her former opinion of Miss Tatten as a just yet severe automaton when she saw the real kindliness and tender consideration she showed there.

The doctor was coming up the stairs as Patricia pinned on her hat and hurried away for her singing lesson, and only the sternness which Tancredi showed toward late-comers kept her from lingering to hear his verdict.

In the courtyard she met Miss Ardsley, coming placidly from her milliner's. ”At this most unearthly hour, my dear, because the obstinate creature refused to make my new hat for 'Varnis.h.i.+ng Day' on Friday unless I gave her a sitting this morning.”

Patricia was not at any time much interested in Miss Ardsley's hats, but now they grew intolerable. She waited for a period in the gentle flow of criticism on the prevalent modes, and then she boldly broke in.

”I'm sorry I have to go,” she said apologetically. ”I must tell you, though, before I fly, that Rosamond Merton is ill with the grippe and we've sent for the doctor. He's in her room, now, so you'll have to go right up if you want to see him there.”

Miss Ardsley gasped. ”Ill with grippe! How--how very annoying. Really, I was hoping to keep Artemis Lodge free from that taint,” she said with a slightly sharp edge to her gentle tones. ”Is she suffering much?” she added more sweetly, being recalled perhaps by the incredulous expression in Patricia's very speaking eyes.

”She's very miserable indeed,” Patricia returned promptly, determined not to spare the Directress. ”She was in a stupor when I went in to her this morning, but she's better now. Constance Fellows had been with her and Miss Tatten has just gone up----”

”Miss Tatten?” began Miss Ardsley in a somewhat vexed tone, which swiftly changed to a pleased one. ”Ah, yes, Miss Tatten. She is most capable and will do all that is necessary. Thank you so much, my dear, for telling me of this sad affair. I shall notify Madame Tancredi at once.” And before Patricia could offer to carry the message, she sailed off serenely to her own quarters, leaving Patricia wasting yet more valuable time by standing quite still in the middle of the courtyard staring blankly after her.

”Well!” was all she found voice for as she gathered herself together.

”Well.”

Notwithstanding Miss Ardsley's intentions, Patricia told Madame Tancredi of her favorite pupil's illness and was gratified at the warmth of her solicitude. She carried home from her lesson a strong impression that Rosamond must be a very remarkable person indeed to call forth such expressions of regret from her teacher.

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