Everybody laughed. Katharine was so unconscious of her inconsistency.
While they were waiting for their order, Patricia’s eyes, which were roving about the room in search of possible acquaintances, came to rest on the back of a tall figure two tables beyond theirs. As if compelled by her questioning gaze, the individual turned around, immediately jumped up, and crossed the room in two strides.
CHAPTER XVIII
A WEEK END
“Craig!” exclaimed Patricia, smiling up at the lanky youth. “Fancy seeing you here! And what are you doing?”
“Here on business,” was the brief response, as he shook Patricia’s hand enthusiastically.
“These are my friends—Anne Ford, Jane Temple, and Katharine Weldon,” continued Patricia, “who are spending the week end with me.”
Acknowledging the introduction, Craig looked inquiringly at Patricia. “May I sit down here and have my sweet with the Sweets.”
“We couldn’t possibly refuse after such a ‘sweet’ compliment as that,” laughed Patricia. “How long are you going to be in town?”
“Well, that depends. If I find what I’m looking for, I’ll go back almost immediately; if I don’t, I’ll go Sunday afternoon, anyhow.”
“How interesting and mysterious you sound!” remarked Katharine.
“Reporting’s a great game. Now tell me about yourselves,” leaning both elbows on the table and looking from one girl to another. With flattering attention the boy listened to the story of their drive home; gave a couple of short barks of amusement at their movie experience, then inquired what they intended to do on the morrow.
“Shop in the morning,” replied Patricia. “I always do the Sunday marketing when I’m home. I just love to poke around the stores and buy things. In the afternoon—I really don’t know yet.”
“How would it be if you all went to the ball game with me?” proposed Craig, carefully rubbing a drop of chocolate sauce off of his tie.
“Grand! But you’d be embarrassed to death escorting four females,” laughed Patricia.
“Don’t you believe it. I’d be the proudest fellow in the stand, and the most envied. That’s settled then,” as all the girls manifested their pleasure in the plan. “I’ll call for you at two o’clock,” he added, as they rose to go. “I’d offer to see you home, but I suppose you have your car?”
“Yes; it’s in a parking station. Why don’t we meet you at the Park tomorrow afternoon instead of your going way out to our house?”
“Not a bad idea, especially as I haven’t the least idea where you live.” Everybody laughed.
“97 Minton Road, in case you ever need to know,” said Patricia, smiling frankly up into the brown eyes and serious face above her.
“Thanks,” he said, making a note of the address. “Wait a minute,” he added, taking hold of her arm and steering her toward a candy counter. “Make up five pounds of the kinds selected,” he directed the prim clerk who came to take his order. Then, waving off the girls’ thanks, he was gone.
“Shall we each choose our favorites, to make up one-quarter of the box?” asked Patricia, turning to the other girls.
“Fine; and in quarter-or half-pound lots, so as to get variety,” said Katharine; and they all assented.
It was rather late when the girls finally reached home, but they settled down before the living room fireplace with the box of candy, and regaled Mr. and Mrs. Randall with chocolates and the story of their adventures. Mr. Randall finally drove them off to bed shortly after midnight.
“I’m going to stay in the car,” announced Katharine the next morning, when Patricia drew up in front of a large department store in the grocery department of which she intended to make several purchases. “I don’t care for marketing, and I do love to watch people hurrying along the streets.”
“As you like it,” replied Patricia, getting out, followed by Anne and Jane.
“Can you park here?” inquired Jane in surprise, as Patricia slammed the door.
“Not really supposed to, but I won’t be long; and I hardly think there’ll be any trouble.”
“I’ll entertain the cop,” offered Katharine magnanimously, “if he shows up.”
She had been watching the crowd for about ten minutes, when she noticed a big, red-faced policeman approaching, his eyes fixed indignantly upon the car in which she was sitting.
“Now I’m in for it!” she thought. “Why in time doesn’t Patricia come? She’s been gone an age.”
“You can’t park here, lady,” said the officer sternly. “Can’t you read?” pointing to the No Parking sign.
“No, sir,” replied Katharine demurely.
“You can’t!” exclaimed the man in surprise
“Not a word!” was the reply, and Katharine looked innocently at him.
“What nationality are you?”
“American, sir.”
The officer pushed back his hat in perplexity. He felt that something was wrong, but could not quite put his finger on it. With all our money spent on schools, and this young woman couldn’t read.
“Well, anyhow, whether you can read or not, you can’t park here.”
“But this isn’t my car, and I can’t drive.”
“Where is the owner?”
“In there,” pointing to the store. “She’ll be out in just a minute. I think she went in to buy—oranges.”
“Well, if she isn’t out by the time I come around again, she gets a tag; and that’s flat!”
Wrathfully the officer strode on, and Katharine sank back comfortably against the cushions again. Five minutes passed; ten; and still no signs of Patricia. Katharine began to fidget nervously and wish she had gone into the store with the girls. Still, if she had, the car would have been tagged at once; even now perhaps she could stave the man off again if he came around before Pat got back.
There he was, striding along as if he meant business! “I wish Pat and her oranges were in Hades,” thought Katharine, preparing to smile sweetly at the irate officer.
“She hasn’t come yet,” she said, leaning out of the window and speaking confidentially. “Something must have happened to her. I’m so worried. What ought I to do, do you think?”
Momentarily disarmed by the unexpected greeting, the man removed his hat and scratched his head. Then suddenly realizing that he was being worked, he snapped:
“What could happen to her except that, like all other women, she has no notion of time! This car’s been here half an hour now. I suppose she can’t read either!”
“It’s been here only twenty-five minutes, officer,” corrected Katharine, showing him her watch.
“So you can tell time, even though you can’t read,” commented the officer, rather admiring the girl’s poise despite his annoyance.
“Well, you see,” began Katharine, resting both arms on the opened window, “when I was a little girl—(if I can only keep him interested until Pat comes!)—I was—” She broke off to gesticulate madly to her friends who were just coming out of the store.
The policeman wheeled sharply and saw three girls racing madly toward him. Just as Pat reached the car,