Paddy The Next Best Thing Part 41

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

PADDY MAKES A NEW FRIEND.

For one moment Paddy was utterly at a loss, and bit her lips in evident vexation, while the colour deepened still further in her face.

"How do you do, Paddy?" said Lawrence. "You seem to be in difficulties as usual. May I introduce you to your other timely helper, Miss Grant-Carew?"

Paddy bowed very stiffly, but as Gwen promptly held out her hand, she was obliged to take it. She managed, however, to avoid doing likewise with Lawrence. Gwen pretended not to notice her coldness, and remarked laughingly:

"I'm so glad I didn't miss that. You can't think how funny it looked-- in Regent Street of all places, too?"

Paddy was constrained to laugh again at the recollection, but she busied herself trying to rearrange the tomatoes in a secure fas.h.i.+on, and absolutely refused to look at Lawrence.

"I think they will be all right now," she said. "Thank you so much for helping me to pick them up. I'm in rather a hurry, as I have to be at the surgery by half-past five--if you will excuse my running off.

Good-by!" and in two seconds she was vanis.h.i.+ng in the crowd.

Gwen looked at Lawrence drolly.

"She's a good hater," she remarked. "Gwen isn't used to being put off in that summary fas.h.i.+on. She doesn't like it, Lawrie."

"It's your own fault. You practically pushed me into the introduction."

"Because I wanted to know her. It isn't often people don't want to know Gwennie. I don't understand!--me _ne comprenez pas_, Lawrie. This is going to be interesting," she ran on. "I shall insist upon Doreen inviting me to meet her in Cadogan Place."

Paddy meanwhile scrambled on to her 'bus, tomatoes held safely this time, and started homeward feeling furious.

"How dare he introduce me!" she mused angrily. "He knows I hate her.

How dare he stop me at all in that cool fas.h.i.+on!" calmly ignoring the fact that the tomatoes and her own carelessness, not Lawrence, had done the stopping. "How pretty she is!" she went on in the same angry way.

"She's as pretty as Eileen. I wouldn't have cared so much if she had been plain, I think, but she's just lovely. Oh, I hate her, I hate her--I just hate them both!"

The bottles got rather banged about that evening, and the good doctor looked up once or twice from his writing, in his little inner sanctuary, and gently marvelled. Basil happened to be at home, and strolled into his father's den, though only with the idea of strolling out again through the surgery door upon suitable pretext. While hovering round there was a sudden crash, which made the doctor start somewhat violently. Basil looked amused.

"Rather stormy this evening, eh?" he suggested. "Perhaps I'd better go and help to pick up the pieces," and he strolled out at the other door.

"Is it blowing great guns and gla.s.s bottles, to-night?" he asked of Paddy, showing himself somewhat gingerly.

Paddy vouchsafed no reply.

"I understand it rained tomatoes in Regent Street this afternoon," he went on, nothing daunted.

She could not forbear to smile.

"Who told you so?"

"Pat nearly lost his life trying to scramble off the top of a 'bus in time to pick them up for you. As far as I can make out, when he arrived on the scene a gay Lothario and a wonderful Diana were in possession of the field, and he thought well to decamp, and nearly broke his neck over again boarding another 'bus, with his eyes occupied in the wrong direction."

"Tell Mr O'Connor he shouldn't tell tales out of school."

"Is it the tomato incident that is making you cross?"

"I'm not cross."

"Well, of course I can't contradict you, but, like the parrot, I can still think a lot."

"I shouldn't if I were you. The unusual strain may hurt your brain."

"Whew--as bad as all that, is it? No letter from Africa this mail, I suppose?"

Paddy preserved a contemptuous silence.

"Too bad," said Basil.

"What's too bad?" said Paddy. "Your last attempt at a joke?"

"The pater's getting anxious." he went on without heading her. "He's sitting in there," nodding toward the surgery, "strung up to an awful pitch of nervousness lest you should be blind with--er--well, we'll call it annoyance, and poison someone by accident."

"Go away," said Paddy.

"I've nowhere to go."

"Go and look for a picture book to keep you quiet."

"Don't be a silly kid, Paddy," persuasively. "What's the matter? I've a strong right arm you can command as you wish. Do you want someone hit?"

"No."

"Well, let, me help anyway. I'll wrap up the bottles for you."

She demurred, but he finally ensconced himself on a high stool beside her and presently talked her into a better humour, afterward going home with her, which was really rather kind of him after the manner of his reception.

Three days later, Paddy received a most affectionate letter from Doreen Blake, begging her to come to tea, as she was quite alone.

"Mother and Kathleen are slaying in Eastbourne," she wrote, "as Kathleen has been ill, and I had to remain in London because I had accepted so many invitations. Miss Wells is here to look after the house, but you and I can have a long, cosy chat all to ourselves. If you don't come I shall be dreadfully disappointed and hurt. I want to hear all about the dispensing and everything."

As Doreen had always been Paddy's special chum, there was nothing unusual in Eileen being left out of the invitation, but Paddy tried to make it an excuse not to go. Her mother would not hear of it, however.

"I want you to go, dear," she said, "because I like Mrs Blake and Doreen and Kathleen very much, and if they are going to remain in town for the season it will be nice for you to go and see them sometimes while Eileen and I are away."

It had been arranged that they two should go to Omeath and stay at the Parsonage for three months, leaving Paddy at the doctor's, and later on Paddy was to join them for her summer holiday, and Mrs Adair and Eileen to come back. This arrangement had been made owing to Eileen's ill-health and the doctor's advice that they should not remain in London all the summer, and as there was barely room for three visitors together at the Parsonage, they decided to go in detachments.

In the end Paddy gave in and accepted the invitation, and at half-past three on the appointed day presented herself at the Blakes' house in Cadogan Place. A butler ushered her in, in a lordly fas.h.i.+on, which Paddy afterward mimicked much to Eileen's and her mother's amus.e.m.e.nt, and she presently found herself alone in an enormous drawing-room, which seemed to her just a conglomeration of fantastic chairs and looking-gla.s.ses. A few seconds later there was a swish-swish outside and Doreen appeared. For one second the girls looked at each other with the unspoken question, "Are you changed?" and then with little exclamations of delight they literally flew at each other.

"Paddy, this is just lovely!" exclaimed Doreen when they had finished embracing. "I've been longing to see you for months."

"Silk linings!" said Paddy, walking round Doreen quizzically. "We are grand nowadays! If there's one thing I want more than another, it's to go swish-swish as I walk."

"Nonsense!" said Doreen. "I know better. You don't care a fig about it, and neither do I for the matter of that. It's as much Lawrence's fad as anyone's. When Kathleen and I go out with him he likes us to be lined with silk," and she laughed merrily, adding, "But what a swell you are, Paddy, and how pretty you have grown!"