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Page 35
"Why, where is she?" she exclaimed, and Aunt Adelaide petulantly
explained that Patty and Adele had gone to look after the baby.
"Pretty poor manners, I call it, to leave me here all alone. It
never occurred to them that I'd like to see the baby, too!"
"Never mind, Aunt Adelaide, you'll have lots of time to see that
baby. And, of course, Adele wants to go to her rooms and get
things arranged. You and I will wait here for the next arrivals.
Laurence Cromer is due about now. He's an artist, you know, and
he'll think you're a picture in that exquisite gown." Much
mollified at these remarks, Aunt Adelaide rearranged her
draperies, called for another cushion, had a screen lowered, and
sat slowly waving a small fan, in expectance of the artist's
admiration. And perhaps the artist might have given an admiring
glance to the picturesque lady in lavender had it not happened
that just as he came up the veranda steps Patty appeared in the
doorway. Her pink cheeks were a little flushed from a romp with
the baby, a few stray curls had been pulled from their ribbon by
baby's chubby hands, and the laughing face was so fair and winsome
that Laurence Cromer stood stock-still and gazed at her. Then Mona
intercepted his vision, but after the necessary introductions and
greetings, the young artist's eyes kept wandering toward Patty, as
if drawn by a magnet.
Young Cromer was a clever artist, though not, as yet, exceedingly
renowned. He advertised his calling, however, in his costume and
appearance. He wore white flannels, but he affected a low rolling
collar and a soft silk tie. His hair was just a trifle longer than
convention called for, and his well-cut features were marred by a
drooping, faraway expression which, he fondly hoped, denoted
soulfulness.
Patty laughed gaily at him.
"Don't stare at me, Mr. Cromer," she said, saucily. "Baby May
pulled my hair down, but I have the grace to be ashamed of my
untidiness."
"It's exquisite," said Cromer, looking at her admiringly; "a sweet
disorder in the dress."
"Oh, I know that lady you quote! She always had her shoestrings
untied and her hat on crooked!"
Cromer looked amazed, as if a saint had been guilty of heresy, and
Patty laughed afresh at his astonished look.
"If you want to see sweet disorder in dress, here's your chance,"
cried Mona. "Here comes Daisy Dow, and she's one who never has her
hat on straight, by any chance!"
Sure enough, as a big car whizzed up under the porte-cochere, a
girl jumped out, with veils flying, coat flapping, and gloves,
bag, and handkerchief dropping, as she ran up the steps.
"Here I am, Mona!" she cried, and her words were unmistakably
true.
Daisy Dow was from Chicago, and she looked as if she had blown all
the way from there to Spring Beach. She was, or had been, prettily
dressed, but, as Mona had predicted, her hat was awry, her collar
askew, and her shoelace untied.
The poetical idea of "a sweet disorder in the dress" was a bit
overdone in Daisy's case, but her merry, breezy laugh, and her
whole-souled joy at seeing Mona again rather corresponded with her
disarranged finery.
"I'm all coming to pieces," she said, apologetically, as she was
introduced to the others. "But we flew along so fast, it's a
wonder there's anything left of me. Can't I go and tidy up, Mona?"
"Yes, indeed. Come along with me, Daisy. They're all here now,
Patty, except Bill and Roger. You can look after them."
"All right, I will. I don't know Mr. Bill, but that won't matter.
I know Roger, and of course the other one will be the gentle
Bill."
"'Gentle' is good!" laughed Mona. "Little Billy is about six feet
eight and weighs a ton."
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