CHAPTER VIII
SWIFT CAMILLA
At last the car came. Patty was in a flutter of joyous expectation, and, as Miller came whirring up the drive in it, the whole family assembled on the veranda to admire it.
“Isn’t it a beauty, Nan! Oh, isn’t it?” Patty exclaimed, as the sunlight flashed gold sparkles on the shining paint.
“It is, indeed, Patty. I never saw such a pretty one. Are you sure you can run it?”
“Oh, yes! I know how already. You just stick in a key and turn it, and grab the brake-handle, and take hold of the steering bar, and push and pull whenever you think you ought to.”
“Not very technical language,” said Mr. Fairfield, smiling, “but I think you understand the operation. Jump in, Puss; I’m going with you for your first spin.”
But, though Mr. Fairfield was an interested spectator, Patty manipulated the car all by herself, and seemed to know intuitively a great many of the minor details.
“There’s only one trouble, dad,” she said, as they went spinning along the smooth, hard road, “I can’t take you and Nan with me both at once.”
“Never mind, girlie; when we feel as sociable as that, we’ll go in the big car. Now, Patty, let me see you change the speed.”
Then followed a careful lesson, in speed changing, stopping suddenly, turning, going backward, and all the various emergencies that occur in driving.
“You certainly are a born motorist, Patty,” said her father, at last. “You are unusually clever and quick-witted about knowing what to do, and doing it swiftly and cleanly. Hesitation in motoring often means trouble.”
“It’s because I love it, father. I’d rather motor than go driving or boating or even flying. Aren’t you glad I don’t want an aëroplane, daddy?”
“You wouldn’t get it, if you did. Not even if you earned it yourself, as you did this car. Now, Patty, turn around and let’s go home.”
Skilfully, Patty turned around, and they sped on their homeward way.
“Some things you must promise me, Patty,” said her father, seriously, as they drew near the house. “Never start out without knowing pretty definitely how long it will take you, and when you’ll return. Never go without being sure you have enough current for the trip. Of course, Miller will look after this for you, but I want you to understand it thoroughly yourself.”
“Yes, I want to learn all about the working parts, and how to repair them, if necessary.”
“That will come later. Learn to run it perfectly, first. And, too, I want you to promise never to start anywhere so late that there’s even a possibility of your being out after dark. I wouldn’t let you go out alone, or with a girl friend, in the city, but down here you may do so, if you never travel except by daylight. You understand, Patty?”
“Yes, father, and I promise. As you know, I only want to go on little, short drives, two or three hours, usually.”
“Very well. I trust you not to do anything of which I would disapprove. You’re a good girl, Patty; at least, you mean to be. But sometimes your enthusiasms and inclinations run away with you, and you have no sense of moderation.”
“H’m,” said Patty, smiling; “now I’ve been lectured enough for one lesson, father dear. Save the rest for another day, and watch me whiz up this drive to the house like an expert.”
She did so, and Nan, awaiting them, exclaimed with pride at Patty’s skilful driving.
“Your turn now, Nan,” the girl called out; then, mindful of her promise, she looked at her watch. “It’s just three,” she said. “Let’s go over to the Arbutus Inn Tea Room, have a cup of tea, and get back home before six? How’s that, father?”
“That’s all right, my good little girl. I don’t believe you’ll have any trouble running it, do you?”
“No, indeed! It’s as easy as pie! I just love to run it.”
Soon Nan was ready, and the two started off in great glee.
“I can hardly believe you really have the car, Patty; didn’t you learn to run it very quickly?”
“Well, you see, I have driven cars before. Big ones, I mean. And this is different, but so much simpler, that it’s no trouble at all. Oh! Nan, isn’t the scenery gorgeous?”
Gorgeous wasn’t at all the right word, but a tamer one would not have suited Patty’s mood. They were rolling along the coast: on one side the ocean; on the other, an ever-changing panorama of seashore settlements with their hotels and cottages, interspersed with stretches of fine woods, or broad, level vistas with distant horizons.
“It’s beautiful, Patty. We’ll have a lovely time this summer.”
“Yes; don’t let’s have too much company. I’d like to have Christine down for a few weeks, and of course Elise will make us a visit; but I don’t want that horde of boys.”
“Why not?” asked Nan, in amazement, for Patty greatly enjoyed the boys’ calls in New York.
“Oh, I don’t know! It’s so quiet and peaceful, just with us; and, if they come, they’ll stir up picnics and dances and all sorts of things.”
“I know what’s the matter with you, Patty,” said Nan, laughing; “you’ve got automobile fever! You just want to ride and ride in this pretty car of yours, along these good roads, and just give yourself up to indolent enjoyment of it.”
“That’s just it! How did you know, Nan?”
“Oh, everybody feels that way when they first own a car. I’ve often noticed it. Sometimes they want to ride entirely alone, and just revel in automobility.”
“Gracious, Nan! What a word! Well, I might want to go all alone once in a while; but usually I want some one to rave about it all with me.”
“Well, I’m ready to rave at any time. Isn’t that the Inn, off there to the right?”
“Yes, so it is. How quickly we’ve come! Nan, there’s a line of poetry in my mind, and I can’t think of it.”
“Oh, what a catastrophe! Is it the only line you know?”
“Don’t be silly. But, truly, I do want to think of it, for it’s about the name of this car.”
“Perhaps a cup of tea will quicken your wits.”
“Perhaps. Well, we’ll try. Jump out, Nan; here we are.”
By a clever little contrivance, Patty could lock her car, and so feel sure it would not be tampered with. In a country place, like this somewhat primitive roadhouse where they now were, this was a decided satisfaction.
The Tea Room, though small, was dainty and attractive. It was kept by two pleasant-faced spinsters, and, though their clientèle was not large, they sometimes served guests at several tables.
“Only a little after four,” said Patty, looking at her watch. “We can stay till five, Nan, and then get home by six.”
“All right,” returned Nan, who was walking along the narrow garden paths, admiring the old-fashioned flowers and tiny box borders.
Patty went into the little Inn, ordered tea and hot waffles and cakes, and then returned to Nan.
“It’s a dear little place,” she said. “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been here before. Tea will be ready in twenty minutes.”
When served, the little repast was delightful. Old-time silver and old-fashioned china made it all seem quaint and interesting.
They dawdled over their tea, sometimes chatting, sometimes sitting silent. It was a bit of good fortune that these two were so congenial, for, Fate having thrown them together, they were much in each other’s company. As there was but six years’ difference in their ages, their relation was far more like sisters than like mother and daughter. And, though Nan never dictated to Patty, she taught her much by example, and, at the same time, she herself learned some things from her stepdaughter.
“S’pect we’d better move on, Nannie,” said Patty, at last, as it was nearly five. “I’ll pay the reckoning for this feast, and then we’ll start. Oh, it has just come to me!”
“What has?”
“That line of poetry that I couldn’t think of! This is it, ‘When swift Camilla scours the plain.’”
“Well, what of it?”
“Why, it’s the name for my car! Swift Camilla! See?”
“A pretty name enough. But is she swift?”
“I’ll speed her going home, and just show you!”
“Patty, don’t you dare! You know I’m only going to motor with you if you go with great moderation.”
“All right; I won’t scare you. But that’s her name, all the same.”
Soon the Swift Camilla was once more skimming along the country roads. Patty went only at moderate speed, for she had no wish to frighten Nan, and, too, she had promised her father to be very careful.
They were about halfway home, when Patty saw a cow in the road ahead.
“I wish that old cow would get out of the way,” she said. “A cow has no business to be in the middle of the road like that.”
She slowed down, and the car crawled along behind the cow, but the indifferent animal paid no heed to the motor or the horn, and ambled along in mild indifference.
“Oh, get out of the way!” cried Patty, exasperatedly. Then, more coaxingly, “Please, cow, nice cow, do get out of the way.”
This brought no response, and Patty grew angry again.
“Shoo! Cow! Shoo! Get out of the road! If you don’t, I’ll—I’ll——” But she could think of no direful deed that would affect the cow, so she paused. Then she resorted to sarcasm: “A nice sort of cow you are, anyway! Alone and unattended on a country road! Why, anybody might kidnap you! Where’s your cow-herd, or whatever you call him?”
“Patty, don’t be silly,” said Nan, choking with laughter. “Get out and chase the cow away. Hit her with a stick, or something. Throw a little stone at her,—just a very little one. Don’t hurt her!”
Patty’s eyes grew round with horror.
“Why, Nan Fairfield, I’m more afraid of that cow than of all the automobiles in the world! I’mterriblyafraid of cows! I’m more afraid of cows than ofanything, except a mouse! But a mouse wouldn’t block up the road so dreadfully. Nan, you get out and chase the cow.”
“No,—no,” said Nan, shuddering. “I’m afraid of cows, too. Patty, I’ll tell you what! Steeraroundthe cow!”
“Just the thing! I believe there’s just about room enough. If she’ll only stay in the middle, now. Which side do you think there’s more room, Nan?”
“On the right. Go round her on the right.”
There was plenty of room, and Patty steered carefully out toward the right, and passed the cow safely enough.
“Hurrah!” she cried, but she hurrahed a trifle too soon.
As she directed her car back to the hard road, she discovered that she had sidetracked into a very sandy place. The front wheels of her car were all right, but the hind wheels were stuck in the sand,—one but a little, the other deeply.
“Put on more speed!” cried Nan. “Hurry, before it sinks in deeper!”
Patty put on more speed, which, contrary to her intent, made the hind wheels sink lower and lower in the soft sand. The car had stopped, and no effort of Patty’s could start it.
She looked at Nan with a comical smile.
“Adventure No. 1!” she said. “Oh, Nan, we can’t get home by six! Indeed, I don’t see how we can ever get home.”
“Are you frightened, Patty?”
“No; there’s nothing to be frightened about. But I’m—well, hopping mad just about expresses my feelings! You see, Nan, it’s like a quicksand; the more we struggle to get out, the deeper we get in.”
“H’m; what are you going to do?”
“Just plain nothing, my lady; for the simple reason that there’s nothing to do.”
“And do you propose to sit here all night?”
“That’s as Fate wills it! Do you suppose father will come to look for us,—say, along toward midnight?”
“Patty, don’t be a goose! Fred will be scared to death!”
“Because I’m a goose? Oh, no! he knows I am, already. But, Nan, I’ve an idea. If I were only strong enough,—or if you were,—we could lift out one of those fence rails, and stick it in the sand in front of that deepest wheel, and get her out.”
“Patty, how clever you are! How do you know that?”
“Oh, I know it well enough. My general gumption tells me it. But,—we’re neither of us strong enough to boost it out of the fence and under the wheel in the right way.”
“But we might do it together.”
“We might try. Come on, Nan, let’s make the effort. Bother that old cow, anyway! But for her, we’d be almost home now.”
They got out of the car, and, with plucky effort, tried to dislodge a fence rail. But it was a fairly new and a well-made fence, and the rails would not come out easily. They tried one after another, but with no success.
“Well, Nan, here’s my only solution to this perplexing situation. We can’t sit here and let father lose his mind worrying about it, and thinking we’re ground under our own chariot wheels. So one of us must stay here with the car, and the other walk home and tell him about it.”
“Walk home! Why, Patty, it must be five miles!”
“I daresay it is, and I’d just as lieve walk it, but I hate to leave you here alone. So you can take your choice, and I’ll take the other.”
“But, Patty, that’s absurd! Why not let one of us walk to some nearby house and ask for help?”
“Capital idea, but where’s the nearby house? There’s none in sight.”
“No, but there must be one nearer than home.”
“Yes; and, when you go trailing off to look for it, you’ll get lost. Better go straight home, Nan.”
“And leave you here alone? I won’t do it!”
“Then there seems to be a deadlock. Oh, hey! Hi! Mister!! I say! Whoo-oo-ee!”
Nan turned, frightened at Patty’s hullabaloo, to see a man just disappearing round a fork in the road. He had not seen them, and, unless Patty’s quick eyes had spied him, and her sudden call had reached his ears, he would have been gone in a moment. As it was, he turned, stared at them, and then came slowly over to them. He was a rough, but not unkindly-looking fellow, probably a farm labourer, and apparently a foreigner. He spoke no English, but Patty made him understand by gestures what she wanted him to do. A look of admiration came into his stolid eyes, at the idea of Patty knowing enough to use the fence rail, and his powerful strength soon removed a rail, and placed it endwise under the wheel of the captive car. Another was placed under the other hind wheel, and, after much endeavour and slipping and coaxing, the car was once again freed from the sand, and stood proudly on the hard road.
Patty thanked the man prettily, and, though he couldn’t understand a word, he understood her grateful smiles. More clearly, perhaps, he understood a banknote, which she drew from her purse and gave him, and, with a grateful, if uncouth bow of his awkward head, he trudged away.
Patty started her car, and soon, at a good rate of speed, they were flying along in the gathering dusk.
CHAPTER IX
MONA AT HOME
When they reached home it was really after dark, and Patty was prepared for an expected reproof. But Mr. Fairfield came out smilingly to meet them.
“Accident No. 1?” he asked. “What was it? Power gave out, punctured tire, or misjudged distance?”
“None of those,” cried Patty, gaily; “but it was a real accident, and a real unavoidable and unforeseeable one!”
“Oh, of course!” chaffed her father; “accidents are always unavoidable, and never the fault of the person driving!”
“I’m glad you’ve learned that,” said Patty, saucily, “for, if you have that theory firmly fixed in your mind, you have learned the main principle of motor adventures!”
And then the three sat down on the veranda, and Patty and Nan detailed the whole experience to Mr. Fairfield.
“You were certainly in no way to blame, Patty,” he said, heartily, “for, of course, you’ve had no experience with sand, and had no reason to suspect that the wheels would sink. But you’ve learned the lesson, and now that particular trouble is not likely to occur again, for you will remember to stick to the hard roads.”
“But, you see, the particular trouble was really the cow, and, of course, she’s likely to occur again at any time.”
“Then the only remedy that I can suggest is to have a cow-catcher built on the front of your car.”
“No; I’m not going to spoil the perfect lines of my beautiful Camilla by any unsightly device. You see, father, the lines of that car are simply perfect. I know this, because it says so in the booklet the company gave me. And it speaks quite highly of the car’s various points, and accessories, and really goes so far as to state that it is superior to any other car in the market! And the longer I use it, the more fully I agree with the booklet.”
“I’m glad your long experience justifies the company’s claims. Have you named the car Camilla?”
“Yes, because she scours the plain; don’t you remember how swift Camilla scoured the plain?”
“Yes, I remember, but it seems a more appropriate name for some patent cleaning powder.”
“Nonsense, daddy! Have you no poetry or romance in your soul? Swift Camilla is a lovely name for my car, and I mean to scour the plain for miles around. Come on, Nan, let’s go and tidy up for dinner. It’s getting late.”
“It is so,” said her father, “and, though I sha’n’t be too severe with you this time, I must mildly repeat that I want you hereafter to get home from your scouring expeditions before dark.”
“Sure!” cried Patty, gaily, blowing him a kiss from the tips of her fingers as she ran away.
The days flew by, and, as the weather was almost always fine, Patty went scouring with Camilla every day. Sometimes she took Nan, sometimes her father, and sometimes she went all alone for short drives up and down the coast. She had no trouble with the car’s mechanism, for it was really of superior make, and its management was simple. But one afternoon, when she asked Nan to go for a little spin, Nan replied: “I will later, Patty, but first I think we ought to go and call on Miss Galbraith. It is more than a week since she was here, and, in common courtesy, we ought to return her call.”
“But I don’t like her, and I don’t want to go to see her,” declared Patty, a little petulantly.
“Don’t act like an infant! Your not liking her has nothing to do with the case. We’ve had other calls down here, and we’ve returned them properly; now this is a social duty that must be attended to, so come along.”
“Oh, Nan, you go without me! Make excuses for me, can’t you?”
“No, I can’t; and I won’t! So go and put on a pretty frock and come right along. We needn’t stay long, and we can go for a short motor ride after.”
So Patty went away to dress, for she realised that she must go, however unwillingly. She put on a pretty calling costume of white serge, with black velvet collar and cuffs, and a large black hat.
“You look lovely,” said Nan, as Patty joined her in the hall.
“Yes, I like this frock,” said Patty, “but I’m sure Miss Galbraith won’t; you know, her taste runs to more elaborate costumes.”
“Oh, well, you can’t expect to suit everybody! Come along.”
Nan herself was in pale-grey cloth, with hat to match, and the two strolled along the short distance to “Red Chimneys,” which they had learned was the name of the Galbraith home.
They turned in at the entrance gate, and saw a large and massive stone house, with many red chimneys. It was a handsome building, but over-ornate in its architecture and decoration.
“Looks exactly like Mona,” said Patty, as they drew near. “It’s just a mass of heavy embroidery!”
A footman answered their ring, and, taking their cards on his silver tray, ushered them into a drawing-room, and departed.
There was a rather long interval before Miss Galbraith appeared, and Patty fidgeted. The golden hours of her afternoon were slipping away, and she was impatient to go out with Camilla.
But presently Mona Galbraith came downstairs, and greeted them effusively. As she had been when they saw her before, she was overdressed and over-jewelled. She wore a house dress of blue satin, but so befrilled and bedecked with jabots of lace that it was not only unbeautiful, but no way did it resemble the accepted fashion of the day. An expensive and complicated necklace of turquoises surmounted the blue satin, and large-headed pins of the same blue stone adorned the piled-up masses of hair.
Patty’s secret impulse was one of regret that a fairly pretty girl could make such a dowdy of herself, and she resolved, if ever they became sufficiently well acquainted, she would try to tone down Miss Galbraith’s frantic wardrobe.
“I’m so glad to see you,” their hostess said, “and, if you hadn’t come to-day, I was going straight over to your house to tell you what I thought of you! Oh, you naughty people, to keep me waiting so long! Why didn’t you come sooner?”
“Oh there’s been much to do,” said Nan, “fitting ourselves into our new home; and, too, I think we’re fairly prompt returning your call.”
“Oh, we mustn’t make calls and return calls; that’s too formal. We’re neighbours, you know, and we must just run in and out without ceremony. Don’t you think so, Miss Fairfield? Or, mayn’t I call you Patty? Please let me.”
Patty was good-natured and kind-hearted, but she began to think that Miss Galbraith’s unwelcomed familiarity must be checked.
“Isn’t it a little soon for first names, Miss Galbraith?” she asked, with a merry smile that took the rudeness from her question. “I like to win my friendships by degrees, and not jump into them suddenly.”
But Miss Galbraith was not so easily baffled. “Oh, are you like that?” she said. “Now I’m just the opposite! I know at once if I like anybody, and I do like you, and so I’m going to call you Patty. Of course, if you’re so cautious about making friends, you’ll have to adopt me more slowly. But I’ll warrant it won’t be long before you’ll call me Mona in spite of yourself. And you, too, Mrs. Fairfield,” she added, turning to Nan.
Patty gasped, for she almost thought the forward girl was going to call Nan by her first name, but Mona did not go quite so far as that.
“You have a beautiful home here,” said Nan, in order to change the subject. “Have you lived here long?”
“This is the fourth summer,” said Mona; “my father built it, and he said he didn’t care what it cost, if only it was the most expensive house at Spring Beach.”
“I fancy he achieved his desire,” said Nan, politely.
“Oh, yes, indeed! There’s no other house been put up yet that cost nearly as much, and I don’t believe there will be.”
“Probably not,” said Patty. “But it seems large for only two of you.”
“Yes, but we have a great many servants; and, then, we like to have company. We invite a great deal of company, though they don’t always come. It’s strange how few people enjoy the seashore.”
Patty privately thought that there might be other reasons for the guests’ refusals than a dislike for the seashore, but she only said, “Yes, I like to have company, too; but I’m never lonely, even if I’m entirely alone.”
“Yes, I can see that’s your disposition,—sunshiny and sweet always. Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come to Spring Beach! I’ve wanted just such a friend.”
As Patty said afterward, she felt herself being drawn into a net, from which there seemed to be no escape. But she determined to make one more effort.
“I don’t want to seem ungrateful,” she said, “but, to tell the truth, I’m not very sociable.” Then, like a flash, she realised that this was not true, and endeavoured to amend it. “I mean,” she went on, “in the summer time, when I’m away from home. That is,—don’t you know,—I think one likes a sort of vacation from society during the summer; don’t you?”
“Oh, yes! But, of course, the social doings down here are not like those in the city. I’m not much in society down here, myself; so we can have real good times with each other, and give society the go-by.”
Patty gave up in despair. She couldn’t make this girl understand that she did not desire her intimate friendship, without being positively rude; and, though of an independent nature, Patty was always unwilling to hurt the feelings of others.
But very soon Nan rose to take leave, and the call was over.
“What can I do?” exclaimed Patty, as they were safely out of hearing distance of “Red Chimneys.” “That girl is the limit! She’ll be over to our house all the time, if I don’t do something to stop her!”
“Oh, don’t take it too seriously!” advised Nan. “Sometimes these troubles that loom up so darkly fade away of themselves.”
“She won’t fade away,” declared Patty; “Mona is no fader! But some day I shall take her out in my motor car, way, way out beyond civilisation, and come back without her!”
“That’s a splendid plan!” said Nan, approvingly; “practical, sensible, and easily carried out!”
“Yes, isn’t it,” said Patty, grinning. And then they were at “The Pebbles” again, and were soon arrayed in their motor toggery, and starting away in the Swift Camilla.
“Which way?” asked Patty, as she grasped the steering bar.
“Straight along the coast,” answered Nan; “the ocean is so beautiful to-day, I don’t want to get out of sight of it.”
“All right, here we go;” and Patty headed the car south along the line, continuous shore drive.
“Nan,” she observed, as they flew along, “do you happen to know of any remarkable, important, and very-much-to-be-celebrated day that is going to occur soon?”
“Day?” repeated Nan, looking blank,—so exceedingly blank that it seemed an assumed expression.
“Yes, day!Aday,—oneday,—anespecialday! Do try to think. It may occur next week!”
“Let me see,” said Nan, in a deeply thoughtful tone, “this is May,—so you can’t mean Washington’s Birthday or Lincoln’s Birthday.”
“No! nor Christmas Day, nor St. Patrick’s Day in the Morning! But, all the same, it’s one of the most important dates in the annals of Time, and I’ll give you one more chance to save your reputation by guessing what it is, before I tell you.”
“Well, of course I have no idea when it occurs, but, if I’m merely guessing, I’ll guess that you refer to Mona Galbraith’s birthday.”
“Oh, Nan! you are too exasperating! Another speech like that and I’ll put you out of this car and let you walk home! Now the occasion to which I refer, and which you know well enough, only you think it’s roguish to pretend you don’t, is the birthday of one Miss Patricia Fairfield! a clever and charming young girl, who will on that day achieve the dignity of being nineteen years old!”
“Why, sure enough, itwillbe your birthday soon, won’t it?” exclaimed Nan, in affected surprise, which by no means deceived Patty.
“Yes, and what are you going to do about it?”
“Well, you ask me so suddenly, I scarce know what to say! What do you want done?”
“Well, you ask me suddenly, too, but I know exactly what to say! I want a celebration of the event.”
“Oh, you do! brass band, and torch-light parade?”
“Not exactly that, but something just as good. I want a house-party,—quite a large one,—to come the day before the birthday, and stay several days after, and celebrate all the time.”
“You’re so modest in your demands, Patty! Why don’t you have something really worth while?”
“Don’t be sarcastic, Nan; you’re too pretty to say such things! Now take a deep interest in my plans, won’t you, and help me decide things?”
“All right, Patty, I will, indeed. But I thought you didn’t want company down here, especially the boys, because you wanted to enjoy your scouring the plain, all alone.”
“Well, I did feel that way for a time, but I’m getting over it. Anyway, I want to try having company, and, if I don’t like it, I’ll try solitude again. Now you see, Nan, my birthday is next week, Thursday. I’d like to ask the people to come Wednesday, and then stay over the weekend.”
“All right, Patty, I’ll do all I can to make it pleasant for you. But, you know, we have only four guest rooms. How big did you mean your house party to be?”
“Well, of course the two Farringtons and Christine and Kenneth would be about all we could accommodate. Then I thought, if Mr. Hepworth and Mr. Van Reypen cared to come, they could stay at the hotel.”
“It doesn’t seem very hospitable to invite them that way,” said Nan, demurring.
“Then they’ll have to stay home,” said Patty, cheerfully, “for, as you say, we have only the four rooms to give them. I thought our house was large, but it doesn’t seem so when you begin to invite guests.”
“Well, we’ll see about it,” said Nan.
CHAPTER X
THE COURTESY OF THE ROAD
That evening they discussed the project with Mr. Fairfield.
“I heartily approve of the plan,” he said. “It’s time we had some young life down here to stir Patty up. She’s getting too sentimental from gazing at the sea and sky. And I think it will be quite all right to invite two of the men to lodge at the hotel. They can come over here for all their meals, and so they will practically be part of the house party. But, Patty, are you sure you want this house party for several days? You may find it more of a burden than you think, to entertain guests so long.”
“Oh, they’re not formal guests; it’s just a young people’s frolic. We’ll go motoring and swimming and picnicking just as we like. But, of course, on my birthday I shall have a party,—a real party.”
“You don’t know enough people down here to make an evening party,” said Nan.
“Oh, well, I know several,” said Patty; “and if we have eight or ten in the house, and get eight or ten more from among the Spring Beach cottagers, that will be enough for a small dance.”
“And there’s Mona,” put in her father, mischievously.
“Oh,Mona! I’m not going to askher!”
“Why, Patty,” said Nan, “you’ll have to ask her,—your very next neighbour!”
“No, I won’t have to, either! I’m not going to spoil my whole birthday just because she happens to live next-door to me!”
“Patty,” said her father, “I think you must be a little more generous in your attitude toward that girl. You may not like her altogether, but you must be kind and polite to her, because, in a country place like this, we do owe a certain duty to our neighbours such as is never recognised in New York. And I want you to grow up an unselfish, generous woman, who would sacrifice her own feelings to those of her neighbour.”
“Of course you’re right,father, and I will try to conquer my dislike for that girl. But you know what she is.”
“Yes, I know what she is; she is uncongenial, and her manner irritates you. But there must be some good in her, Patty, and suppose you set yourself to work to find it.”
“All right, daddy, I’ll go you; but won’t you please let me wait until after my birthday is over?”
“No, child; I quite agree with Nan that you must invite Miss Mona to your party: that is, if you invite other cottagers. If you have only your own house party, of course you needn’t ask her.”
“Well, then, I won’t ever ask her over here while the house party is on, except the night of my birthday, when I have the dance.”
“It may not be necessary to invite her,” said Nan, smiling; “she’ll very likely invite herself.”
“Well, we’ll hope she won’t,” said Patty, with a little sigh. “Now I’ll write to the others to-night, and I hope they can all come. I think they all will, unless maybe Christine will think she cannot leave her work. But I’ll urge her to come for a few days, anyway.”
Patty went off to the library to write her notes, and so interested did she become in her party, and her plans for her birthday celebration, that she quite forgot her unpleasant and unwelcome neighbour. Nor did she think of her again until the next afternoon, when, as she swung in a hammock on the front veranda, she saw Mona Galbraith come walking up the drive.
“Here you are, Patty,” called out the hearty and irrepressible voice of her neighbour; “I hoped I’d find you at home. I felt sort of lonely, and I said to myself I’ll just run over to Patty’s, and perhaps, if I ask her very prettily, she’ll give me a ride in that little gem of a motor car that she runs so well.”
Patty arose from the hammock, politely hiding her annoyance at Mona’s arrival, and said: “How do you do, Miss Galbraith? Sit down, won’t you? I’m not sure that I’m going to have the car out this afternoon.”
“Oh, that’s all right; never mind. Don’t get it out purposely for me. I’ll sit here and chat this afternoon, and we can take the ride to-morrow.”
So Patty saw at once that she must either take her visitor motoring that afternoon, or merely defer the occasion, in which case she would have her on her hands for the rest of the afternoon, anyway. Of the two evils she concluded to choose the less. And she also concluded that, as her father had requested, she would be pleasant to this girl, and try to find some likable qualities in her.
So it was with a shade more cordiality that she said: “Oh, yes, we can just as well go this afternoon as any other! It’s a good day, except that there’s a pretty stiff breeze blowing. Are you dressed to go?”
“Oh, yes, this gown is all right, and you can lend me a hood and cloak or something. Haven’t you extra ones?”
“Yes, of course,” said Patty, wondering if this girl had no idea of social formalities. “But perhaps she never had anybody to teach her things,” thought Patty, who, now that she was trying to be generous-minded toward Mona, found it easier than she had thought.
Patty rang for Miller, and ordered the car; then she asked Mona to come into the house, that she might fit her out with proper wraps. It was a warm, pleasant day, so a dust cloak of Nan’s, and a silk hood belonging to that same amiable lady, were borrowed for Miss Galbraith’s use.
“Of course I have all these things at home,” she said, as she tied the ribbons under her chin; and Patty wanted to say, “Why don’t you go and get them, then?” but she well knew it was because of Mona’s unwarranted feeling of intimacy in the Fairfield household that she borrowed their wraps instead of going for her own.
This whole principle was foreign to Patty’s nature. Systematic and methodical herself, she always used her own belongings, and never would have dreamed of borrowing those of another, unless through sheer necessity.
“There’s one thing,” she thought to herself, “if I give her this ride and get it over with, she may keep away while those other people are here. I must be careful not to let her know they are coming.”
The car was at the door and they were soon started. Patty determined to be kind and pleasant to her guest, but to avoid personalities, and to say nothing which could be construed as an invitation to further acquaintance.
One point she conceded, however, and concluded to call Miss Galbraith by her first name. This she did, only because Mona persisted in calling her Patty, and it sounded so purposely stilted and ungracious to persist in saying Miss Galbraith.
Patty asked her guest to choose the road they should take, and was surprised to find that Mona knew of a great many lovely drives which Patty had not yet discovered. Though, of course, it was not surprising, as Mona had spent four summers at Spring Beach, and it was Patty’s first one.
Mona chose a route called the Blue Lake Drive, which took them through a lovely stretch of pine woods, and out into an orchard-dotted country, the goal being a small and very blue lake. On the shore was a tiny Tea House, which proved a pleasant resting-place for a half-hour.
The girls sat sipping tea and eating crumpets, and Patty began to think that Mona was not nearly as unlikable as she had thought. Her shortcomings were more those of an impulsive and untrained nature than any more serious faults. She was well educated and well read, and Patty found that they had many favourite books and authors in common. But she was pushing, and she continually asserted her intention of being Patty’s intimate friend, until Patty lost her patience and broke out, rather sharply.
“Look here, Mona,” she said, “I like you, or at least I think I’m going to like you, but I won’t be pushed or pulled into a friendship so suddenly. You don’t know me at all, but once in a while I have a way of speaking my mind right straight out, and I tell you frankly that, if you want to be friends with me, you’ll upset the whole kettle of fish by rushing it too hard!”
Mona looked utterly amazed. “What are you talking about?” she said. “Do you call me pushing?”
“I do that!” declared Patty; “just exactly that! and you know it as well as I do! I shouldn’t talk to anybody like this on such short acquaintance, but you brought it on yourself, and, if you want to get angry, you may!”
“Angry!” echoed Mona. “Why, I like you all the better for such straightforward talk! I’m sorry I seem pushing, but,—well,—‘you brought it on yourself’!”
Patty had to laugh at this, for it was really a subtle compliment to her own attractiveness. Also, she decided she could do little by scolding Mona. So she began to talk of other things, leaving the question of friendship to be settled some other time.
Soon they started homeward again, for, as Patty explained to her guest, she was under promise to get home before dark.
“How beautifully your car runs,” said Mona, as they skimmed smoothly along. “Do you never have an accident?”
“Nothing of any account,” returned Patty, and then she told Mona of the day when her wheels got stuck in the sand. “But I have never had anything more serious than that,” she went on, “and I hope I never shall. Have you never run a car yourself?”
“No, it never occurred to me to do so. We have several cars, of course, and lots of chauffeurs and grooms, but only since I’ve seen you in your car have I thought of driving one myself. But I’m going to; I’ve already asked father to get me one exactly like this.”
“Will he do it?”
“Of course; he gets me anything I want. And when I get it, Patty, we can go out together in our two cars. Won’t that be fun?”
“H’m, h’m!” murmured Patty, who wasn’t overjoyed at the proposition. “Gracious! what’s the matter?”
“Oh, my! whatisthe matter? Did something burst?”
“It did so,” said Patty, cheerfully; “the inner tube of this front wheel has burst, and now, if you want to see a successful imitation of a young lady mending her own motor car, just watch me while I get out my little kit of tools, and put my reserve tube in place of this burst one.”
“Can you do it yourself?” enquired Mona, with a look of surprised admiration. “I didn’t know a girl could do things like that!”
“This girl can,” returned Patty, opening her tool-box with a capable air. But the next moment her capable air completely vanished, and she turned to Mona with a comical expression of dismay. “What do you think?” she said. “I’m always so careful to have my car and my tools and my accessories all in perfect order, and now see what’s happened! I had this same experience the other day. The inner tube burst, and I put in my reserve tube and then I put the burst tube away in my kit, and here it is yet. I utterly forgot to have it replaced by a new one!”
“Oh, then the reserve tube that you want to put in is as burst as that one you have just taken out!”
“You’ve struck it right! that’s the situation. Now what’s the solution? There isn’t any answer!”
“Then, what do we do?” asked Mona, looking scared.
“Oh, we just sit here,” said Patty, returning to her seat in the runabout. “It isn’t a question of doing anything, because we can’t do anything. We can sit here, or we can walk home. Or, rather, you can walk home, if you want to. I sha’n’t leave my car, if I sit here all night.”
“And I sha’n’t leave you, if we sit here all night! But if I can walk anywhere, and get assistance for you, I’ll gladly do so.”
“Mona, you’re a good deal of a trump,” said Patty, looking into the girl’s earnest face; “but I don’t know of any place you could get assistance nearer than home, and that’s ten miles away. You see, Mona, when motor cars do break down, they invariably choose a place far away from any garage or repair shop. The farther away it is, the better the car likes it. Can’t you hear Camilla chuckling at our discomfiture?”
“How can you joke, Patty? I think it’s awful! What can we do?”
“We can’t do anything, but, if we’re patient, some one may come along who can help us. You know, there’s a certain courtesy of the road among motorists that makes them help each other whenever they can. At least, this courtesy is said to exist, but I’ve never seen much of it, myself. However, I’ve had very few occasions to desire it. Now we’ll sit and wait for courtesy.”
Nor did they wait long. Very soon a good-sized motor came by, and the polite driver of it stopped and asked the girls if he could be of any assistance.
Patty liked his quiet, courteous manner, and she explained her difficulty.
But the man, though willing, was unable to help her, for his tires were not the same size as those on Patty’s ear. He would have been glad, he said, to tow her car, but he was going in the other direction. So Patty thanked him for his interest in the matter, and he went on his way.
“Now, you see,” observed Patty, “that thereisa courtesy of the road. I’ve no doubt some more courtesy will come along soon, and we’ll get fixed up somehow.”
But courtesy seemed to be scant that afternoon, for half a dozen cars, both large and small, whizzed past them apparently without noticing their plight.
At last, however, a man came by alone in a small electric runabout, not unlike Patty’s own.
“Hi! there!” he called out, “you in trouble?”
Patty did not like his mode of address, nor did she like the looks of the man himself. And even though she greatly desired his help, and felt sure that he might have a reserve inner tube which would fit her tire, she hesitated to ask him for it, as she so distrusted and disliked his general appearance. He looked good-natured, but he did not look to be a man of refinement. But while she hesitated, Mona, greatly to Patty’s surprise, took the situation in hand, and called back to the man: “Yes, we’re in a dreadful fix! Can’t you help us out?”
“You bet I can!” cried the man, and, springing from his own car, he came over to Patty’s side.
“What’s wrong, little one?” he said, looking boldly into Patty’s face.
Patty was thoroughly annoyed at his manner, but now that things had gone so far, of course she must carry it through. Sitting up very straight, and assuming an air of severe dignity, she said: “The inner tube of a front wheel has burst, and I have no good one with which to replace it. If you have one you could spare, I should be glad to have it, and I will send you a duplicate one, if you will give me your address, or my father will send you a cheque for the price of it.”
The man looked at Patty and smiled. “You needn’t be so crusty about it,” he said; “the other young miss ain’t so crusty.”
Patty was becoming a little frightened. The man was so easy-mannered, and, though she felt sure she could manage all right by herself, she had a fear that Mona might say something foolish at any moment.
“I don’t mean to be crusty,” said Patty, smiling pleasantly, but without friendliness. “I’m simply asking the courtesy of the road from a fellow-motorist, and I feel sure, if you can, you will give it to me.”
The man backed away a little and looked at Patty with unmistakable admiration. “Well, I just guess I will!” he replied, and went straight to his own tool-box for implements.
Patty took this opportunity to whisper to Mona, “Don’t you say another word to him! You mustn’t speak to strangers so familiarly. You came near making serious trouble for us!”
Now Mona was of such a peculiar disposition that, instead of realising the truth of Patty’s words, she became incensed at the idea of being scolded, and made no reply, save to pout her lips and assume a very angry expression of countenance.
The man returned from his own car, and in a short time had inserted a new inner tube, and Camilla was in perfect order for a fresh start.
“I thank you very much,” said Patty, with a calm, gracious politeness; “and, if you’ll give me your card, or your address, my father will send you a cheque for the tire, and a note of thanks for your kindness to his daughter.”
“’Taint worth mentioning,” said the man, looking a little sheepish before Patty’s courteous dignity; “and I haven’t a card, but here’s my name, and I’ll be glad to hear from your father, miss.”
He scribbled on a bit of paper and gave the address to Patty, who put it in her cardcase, and, bowing civilly to the man, she started her car and drove swiftly away.