CHAPTER XIIIA STORMY RIDE
The time passed quickly and soon the drive was over, and after calling for their well-filled luncheon-basket, the quartet returned to the repair shop to find Mr. Farrington all ready to start.
So into the car they all bundled, and Patty learned that each fresh start during a motor journey revives the same feeling of delight that is felt at the beginning of the trip.
She settled herself in her place with a little sigh of contentment, and remarked that she had already begun to feel at home in The Fact, and she only wished it was early morning, and they were starting for the day, instead of but for a few hours.
“Don’t you worry, my lady,” said Roger, as he laid his hands lightly on the steering-wheel, “you’ve a good many solid hours of travel ahead of you right now. It’s four o’clock, and if we reach Pine Branches by ten, I will pat thisold car fondly on the head, before I put her to bed.”
The next few hours were perhaps the pleasantest they had yet spent. In June, from four to seven is a delightful time, and as the roads were perfect, and the car went along without the slightest jar or jolt, and without even a hint of an accident of any sort, there was really not a flaw to mar their pleasure.
As the sun set, and the twilight began to close around them, Patty thought she had never seen anything more beautiful than the landscape spread out before them. A broad white road stretched ahead like a ribbon. On either side were sometimes green fields, darkening in the fading light, and sometimes small groves of trees, which stood black against the sky.
Then the sunset’s colours faded, the trees grew blacker and denser, and their shadows ceased to fall across the darkening road.
Roger lighted the lamps, and drew out extra fur robes, for the evening air was growing chill.
“Isn’t it wonderful!” said Patty, almost in a whisper. “Motoring by daylight is gay and festive, but now, to glide along so swiftly and silently through the darkness, is so strange that it’s almost solemn. As it grows darker andblacker, it seems as if we were gliding away,—away into eternity.”
“For gracious’ sake, child,” said Mrs. Farrington, “don’t talk like that! You give me the shivers; say something more lively, quick!”
Patty laughed merrily.
“That was only a passing mood,” she said. “Really, I think it’s awfully jolly for us to be scooting along like this, with our lamps shining. We’re just like a great big fire-fly or a dancing will-o’-the-wisp.”
“You have a well-trained imagination, Patty,” said Mrs. Farrington, laughing at the girl’s quick change from grave to gay. “You can make it obey your will, can’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Patty demurely, “what’s the use of having an imagination, if you can’t make it work for you?”
The car was comfortably lighted inside as well as out, with electric lamps, and the occupants were, as Mr. Farrington said, as cozy and homelike as if they were in a gipsy waggon.
Patty laughed at the comparison and said she thought that very few gipsy waggons had the luxuries and modern appliances of The Fact.
“That may be,” said Mr. Farrington, “but you must admit the gipsy waggon is the morepicturesque vehicle. The way they shirr that calico arrangement around their back door, has long been my admiration.”
“It is beautiful,” said Patty, “and the way the stove-pipe comes out of the roof,——”
“And the children’s heads out ’most anywhere,” added Elise; “yes, it’s certainly picturesque.”
“Speaking of gipsy waggons makes me hungry,” said Mrs. Farrington. “What time is it, and how soon shall we reach the Warners’?”
“It’s after eight o’clock, my dear,” said her husband, “and I’m sure we can’t get there before ten, and then, of course, we won’t have dinner at once, so do let us partake of a little light refreshment.”
“Seems to me we are always eating,” said Patty, “but I’m free to confess that I’m about as hungry as a full grown anaconda.”
Without reducing their speed, and they were going fairly fast, the tourists indulged in a picnic luncheon. There was no tea making, but sandwiches and little cakes and glasses of milk were gratefully accepted.
“This is all very well,” said Mrs. Farrington, after supper was over, “and I wouldn’t fora moment have you think that I’m tired or frightened, or the least mite timid. But if I may have my way, hereafter we’ll make no definite promises to be at any particular place at any particular time. I wish when you had telephoned, John, you had told the Warners that we wouldn’t arrive until to-morrow. Then we could have stopped somewhere, and spent the night like civilised beings, instead of doing this gipsy act.”
“It would have been a good idea,” said Mr. Farrington thoughtfully, “but it’s a bit too late now, so there’s no use worrying about it. But cheer up, my friend, I think we’ll arrive shortly.”
“I think we won’t,” said Roger. “I don’t want to be discouraging, but we haven’t passed the old stone quarry yet, and that’s a mighty long way this side of Pine Branches.”
“You’re sure you know the way, aren’t you, Roger?” asked his mother, her tone betraying the first trace of anxiety she had yet shown.
“Oh, yes,” said Roger, and Patty wasn’t sure whether she imagined it, or whether the boy’s answer was not quite as positive as it was meant to sound.
“Well, I’m glad you do,” said Mr. Farrington, “for I confess I don’t. We’re doubtlesson the right road, but I haven’t as yet seen any familiar landmarks.”
“We’re on the right road, all right,” said Roger. “You know there’s a long stretch this side of Pine Branches, without any villages at all.”
“I know it,” said Mrs. Farrington, “but it is dotted with large country places, and farms. Are you passing those, Roger? I can’t seem to see any?”
“I haven’t noticed very many, Mother, but I think we haven’t come to them yet. Chirk up, it’s quite some distance yet, but we’ll keep going till we get there.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Farrington, “what if the belt should break, or something give way!”
“Don’t think of such things, Mother; nothing is going to give way. But if it should, why, we’ll just sit here till morning, and then we can see to fix it.”
Mrs. Farrington couldn’t help laughing at Roger’s good nature, but she said, “Of course, I know everything’s all right, and truly, I’m not a bit frightened. But somehow, John, I’d feel more comfortable if you’d come back here with me, and let one of the girls sit in front in your place.”
“Certainly,” said her husband, “hop over here, Elise.”
“Let me go,” cried Patty, who somehow felt, intuitively, that Elise would prefer to stay behind with her parents. As for Patty herself, she had no fear, and really wanted the exciting experience of sitting up in front during this wild night ride.
Roger stopped the car, and the change was soon effected. As Patty insisted upon it, she was allowed to go instead of Elise, and in a moment they were off again.
“Do you know,” said Patty to Roger, after they had started, “when I got out then, I felt two or three drops of rain!”
“I do know it,” said Roger, in a low tone, “and I may as well tell you, Patty, that there’s going to be a hard storm before long. Certainly before we reach Pine Branches.”
“How dreadful,” said Patty, who was awed more by the anxious note in Roger’s voice, than by the thought of the rain storm. “Don’t you think it would be better,” she went on, hoping to make a helpful suggestion, “if we should put in to some house until the storm is over? Surely anybody would give us shelter.”
“I don’t see any houses,” said Roger, “and,Patty, I may as well own up, we’re off the road somehow. I think I must have taken the wrong turning at that fork a few miles back. And though I’m not quite sure, yet I feel a growing conviction that we’re lost.”
Although the situation was appalling, for some unexplainable reason Patty couldn’t help giggling.
“Lost!” she exclaimed in a tragic whisper, “in the middle of the night! in a desolate country region! and a storm coming on!”
Patty’s dramatic summary of the situation made Roger laugh too. And their peals of gaiety reassured the three who sat behind.
“What are you laughing at?” said Elise; “I wish you’d tell me, for I’m ’most scared to death, and Roger, it’s beginning to rain.”
“You don’t say so!” said Roger, in a tone of polite surprise, “why then we must put on the curtains.” He stopped the car, and jumping down from his place, began to arrange the curtains which were always carried in case of rain.
Mr. Farrington helped him, and as he did so, remarked, “Looks like something of a storm, my boy.”
“Father,” said Roger, in a low voice, “it’sgoing to rain cats and dogs, and there may be a few thunders and lightnings. I hope mother won’t have hysterics, and I don’t believe she will, if you sit by her and hold her hand. I don’t think we’d better stop. I think we’d better drive straight ahead, but, Dad, I believe we’re on the wrong road. We’re not lost; I know the way all right, but to go around the way we are going, is about forty miles farther than the way I meant to go; and yet I don’t dare turn back and try to get on the other road again, for fear I’ll really get lost.”
“Roger,” said Mr. Farrington, “you’re a first-class chauffeur, and I’ll give you a reference whenever you want one, but I must admit that to-night you have succeeded in getting us into a pretty mess.”
Roger was grateful enough for the light way in which his father treated the rather serious situation, but the boy keenly felt his responsibility.
“Good old Dad,” he said, “you’re a brick! Get in back now, and look after mother and Elise. Don’t let them shoot me or anything, when I’m not looking. Patty is a little trump; she is plucky clear through, and I am glad to have her up in front with me. Now I’ll do thebest I can, and drive straight through the storm. If I see any sort of a place where we can turn in for shelter, I think we’d better do it, don’t you?”
“I do, indeed,” said his father. “Meantime, my boy, go ahead. I trust the whole matter to you, for you’re a more expert driver than I am.”
It was already raining fast as the two men again climbed into the car. But the curtains all around kept the travellers dry, and with its cheery lights the interior of the car was cozy and pleasant.
In front was a curtain with a large window of mica which gave ample view of the road ahead.
With his strong and well-arranged lights, Roger had no fear of collision, and as they were well protected from the rain, his chief worriment was because they were on the wrong road.
“It’s miles and miles longer to go around this way,” he confided to Patty. “I don’t know what time we’ll ever get there.”
“Never mind,” said Patty, who wanted to cheer him up. “I think this is a great experience. I suppose there’s danger, but somehowI can’t help enjoying the wild excitement of it.”
“I’m glad you like it,” said Roger a little grimly. “I’m always pleased to entertain my guests.”
The storm was increasing, and now amounted to a gale. The rain dashed against the curtains in great wet sheets, and finally forced its way in at a few of the crevices.
Mrs. Farrington, sitting between her husband and daughter, was thoroughly frightened and extremely uncomfortable, but she pluckily refrained from giving way to her nervousness, and succeeded in behaving herself with real bravery and courage.
Still the tempest grew. So wildly did it dash against the front curtain that Patty and Roger could see scarcely a foot before the machine.
“There’s one comfort,” said Roger, through his clenched teeth, “we’re not in danger of running into anything, for no other fools would be abroad such a night as this. Patty, I’m going to speed her! I’m going to race the storm!”
“Do!” said Patty, who was wrought up to a tense pitch of excitement by the war of the elements without, and the novelty of the situation within.
Roger increased the speed, and they flew through the black night and dashed into the pouring rain, while Patty held her breath, and wondered what would happen next.
On they went and on. Patty’s imagination kept pace with her experiences and through her mind flitted visions of Tam O’Shanter’s ride, John Gilpin’s ride and the ride of Collins Graves. But all of these seemed tame affairs beside their own break-neck speed through the wild night!
“Roger,” said his mother, “Roger, won’t you please——”
“Ask her not to speak to me just now, Patty, please,” said the boy, in such a tense, strained voice that Patty was frightened at last, but she knew that if Roger were frightened, that was a special reason for her own calmness and bravery. Turning slightly, she said, “Please don’t speak to him just now, Mrs. Farrington; he wants to put all his attention on his steering.”
“Very well,” said Mrs. Farrington, who had not the slightest idea that there was any cause for alarm, aside from the discomfort of the storm. “I only wanted to tell him to watch out for railroad trains.”
And then Patty realised that that was justwhat Roger was looking out for! She could not see ahead into the blinding rain, but she knew they were going down hill. She heard what seemed like the distant whistle of a locomotive, and suddenly realising that Roger could not stop the car and must cross the track before the train came, she thought at the same moment that if Mrs. Farrington should impulsively reach over and grasp the boy’s arm, or anything like that, it might mean terrible disaster.
Acting upon a quick impulse to prevent this, she turned round herself, and with a voice whose calmness surprised her, she said, “Please, Mrs. Farrington, could you get me a sandwich out of the basket?”
“Bless you, no, child!” said that lady, her attention instantly diverted by Patty’s ruse. “That is, I don’t believe I can, but I’ll try.”
Patty was far from wanting a sandwich, but she felt that she had at least averted the possible danger of Mrs. Farrington’s suddenly clutching Roger, and as she turned back to face the front, the great car whizzed across the slippery railroad track, just as Patty saw the headlight of a locomotive not two hundred feet away from them.
“Oh, Roger,” she breathed, clasping herhands tightly, lest she herself should touch the boy, and so interfere with his steering.
“It’s all right, Patty,” said Roger in a breathless voice, and as she looked at his white face, she realised the danger they had so narrowly escaped.
Those in the back seat could not see the train, and the roar of the storm drowned its noise.
“Patty,” said Roger, very softly, “you saved us! I understood just what you did. I feltsureMother was going to grab at me, when she heard that whistle. It’s a way she has, when she’s nervous or frightened, and I can’t seem to make her stop it. But you saved the day with your sandwich trick, and if ever we get in out of the rain, I’ll tell you what I think of you!”
CHAPTER XIVPINE BRANCHES
There were still many miles to cover before they reached their destination, but there were no more railroad tracks to cross, and as there was little danger of meeting anyone, Roger let the car fly along at a high rate of speed. The storm continued and though the party endeavoured to keep cheerful, yet the situation was depressing, and each found it difficult not to show it.
Roger, of course, devoted his exclusive attention to driving the car, and Patty scarcely dared to breathe, lest she should disturb him in some way.
The three on the back seat became rather silent also, and at last everybody was rejoiced when Roger said, “Those lights ahead are at the entrance gate of Pine Branches.”
Then the whole party waxed cheerful again.
Mr. Farrington looked at his watch. “It’squarter of two,” he said, “do you suppose we can get in at this hour?”
“Indeed we will get in,” declared Roger, “if I have to drive this car smash through the gates, andbangin at the front door!”
The strain was beginning to tell on the boy, who had really had a fearful night of it, and he went dashing up to the large gates with a feeling of great relief that the end of the journey was at hand.
When they reached the entrance, the rain was coming down in torrents. Great lanterns hung either side of the portal, and disclosed the fact that the gates were shut and locked.
Roger had expected this, for he felt sure the Warners had long ago given up all thought of seeing their guests that night.
Repeated soundings of the horn failed to bring any response from the lodge-keeper, and Roger was just about to get out of the car, and ring the bell at the large door, when Patty’s quick eye discerned a faint light at one of the windows.
“Sure enough,” said Roger, as she called his attention to this, and after a few moments the large door was opened, and the porter gazed out into the storm.
“All right, sir, all right,” he called, seeing the car; and donning a great raincoat, he came out to open the gates.
“Well, well, sir,” he said, as Mr. Farrington leaned out to speak with him, “this is a night, sure enough! Mr. Warner, sir, he gave up looking for you at midnight.”
“I don’t wonder,” said Mr. Farrington, “and now, my man, can you ring your people up, and is there anybody to take care of the car?”
“Yes, sir, yes, sir,” said the porter, “just you drive on up to the house, and I’ll go back to the lodge and ring up the chauffeur, and as soon as he can get around he’ll take care of your car. I’ll ring up the housekeeper too, but she’s a slow old body, and you’d best sound your horn all the way up the drive.”
Roger acted on this advice and The Fact went tooting up the driveway, and finally came to a standstill at the front entrance of Pine Branches.
They were under aporte-cochère, and as soon as they stopped, Elise jumped out, and began a vigorous onslaught on the doorbell. Roger kept the horn sounding, and after a few moments the door was opened by a somewhatsleepy-looking butler. As they entered, Mr. Warner, whose appearance gave evidence of a hasty toilet, came flying down the staircase, three steps at a time.
“Well, well, my friends,” he exclaimed, “I’m glad to see you, I am overjoyed to see you! We were expecting you just at this particular minute, and I am so glad that you arrived on time. How do you do, Mrs. Farrington? And Elise, my dear child, how you’ve grown since I saw you last! This is Patty Fairfield, is it? How do you do, Patty? I am very glad to see you. Roger, my boy, you look exhausted. Has your car been cutting up jinks?”
As Mr. Warner talked, he bustled around shaking hands with his guests, assisting them out of their wraps, and disposing of them in comfortable chairs.
Meantime the rest of the family appeared.
Bertha Warner, a merry-looking girl of about Patty’s age, came flying downstairs, pinning her collar as she ran.
“How jolly of you,” she cried, “to come in the middle of the night! Such fun! I’m so glad to see you, Elise; and this is Patty Fairfield? Patty, I think you’re lovely.”
The impulsive Bertha kissed Patty on bothcheeks, and then turned to make way for her mother.
Mrs. Warner was as merry and as hearty in her welcome as the others. She acted as if it were an ordinary occurrence to be wakened from sleep at two o’clock in the morning, to greet newly arrived guests, and she greeted Patty quite as warmly as the others.
Suddenly a wild whoop was heard, and Winthrop Warner, the son of the house, came running downstairs.
“Jolly old crowd!” he cried, “you wouldn’t let a little thing like a tornado stop your progress, would you? I’m glad you persevered and reached here, even though a trifle late.”
Winthrop was a broad-shouldered, athletic young man, of perhaps twenty-four, and though he chaffed Roger merrily, he greeted the ladies with hospitable courtesy, and looked about to see what he could do for their further comfort. They were still in the great square entrance hall, which was one of the most attractive rooms at Pine Branches. A huge corner fireplace showed the charred logs of a fire which had only recently gone out, and Winthrop rapidly twisted up some paper, which he lighted, and procuring a few small sticks, soon had a crackling blaze.
“You must be damp and chilly,” he said, “and a little fire will thaw you out. Mother, will you get something ready for a feast?”
“We should have waited dinner,” began Mrs. Warner, “and we did wait until after ten, and then we gave you up.”
“It’s nearer time for breakfast than for dinner,” said Elise.
“I don’t want breakfast,” declared Roger, “I don’t like that meal anyway. No shredded whisk brooms for me.”
“We’ll have a nondescript meal,” said Mrs. Warner, gaily, “and each one may call it by whatever name he chooses.”
In a short time they were all invited to the dining-room, and found the table filled with a variety of delicious viands.
Such a merry tableful of people as partook of the feast! The Warners seemed to enjoy the fact that their guests arrived at such an unconventional hour, and the Farrington party were so glad to have reached their destination safely that they were in the highest of spirits.
Of course the details of the trip had to be explained, and Roger was unmercifully chaffed by Winthrop and his father for having taken the wrong road. But so good-naturedly did theboy take the teasing, and so successfully did he pretend that he came around that way merely for the purpose of extending a pleasant tour, that he got the best of them after all.
At last Mrs. Warner declared that people who had been through such thrilling experiences must be in immediate need of rest, and she gave orders that they must all start for bed forthwith.
It is needless to say that breakfast was not early next morning. Nor did it consist as Roger had intimated, of “shredded whisk brooms,” but was a delightful meal, at which Patty became better acquainted with the Warner family, and confirmed the pleasant impressions she had received the night before.
After breakfast Mrs. Warner announced that everybody was to do exactly as he or she pleased until the luncheon hour, but she had plans herself for their entertainment in the afternoon.
So Winthrop and Roger went off on some affairs of their own, and Bertha devoted herself to the amusement of the two girls.
First, she suggested they should all walk around the place, and this proved a delightful occupation.
Pine Branches was an immense estate, covering hundreds of acres, and there was a brook, a grove, golf grounds, tennis court and everything that could by any possibility add to the interest or pleasure of its occupants.
“But my chief and dearest possession,” said Bertha, smiling, “is Abiram.”
“A dog?” asked Patty.
“No,” said Bertha, “but come, and I will show him to you. He lives down here, in this little house.”
The little house was very like a large-sized dog-kennel, but when they reached it, its occupant proved to be a woolly black bear cub.
“He’s a perfect dear, Abiram is,” said Bertha, as she opened the door, and the fat little bear came waddling out. He was fastened to a long chain, and his antics were funny beyond description.
“He’s a real picture-bear,” said Bertha; “see, his poses are just like those of the bears in the funny papers.”
And so they were. Patty and Elise laughed heartily to see Abiram sit up and cross his paws over his fat little body.
“How old is he?” asked Patty.
“Oh, very young, he’s just a cub. And ofcourse, we can’t keep him long. Nobody wants a big bear around. At the end of the summer, Papa says, he’ll have to be sent to the Zoo. But we have lots of fun looking at him now, and I take pictures of him with my camera. He’s a dear old thing.” Bertha was sitting down by the bear, playing with him as with a puppy, and indeed the soft little creature showed no trace of wild animal habits, or even of mischievous intent.
“He’s just like a big baby,” said Patty. “Wouldn’t it be fun to dress him up as one?”
“Let’s do it,” cried Bertha, gleefully. “Come on, girls, let’s fly up to the house, and get the things.”
Leaving Abiram sitting in the sun, the three girls scampered back to the house. Bertha procured two large white aprons and declared they would make a lovely baby dress.
And so they did. By sewing the sides together nearly to the top, and tying the strings in great bows to answer as shoulder straps, the dress was declared perfect. A dainty sunbonnet, with a wide fluffy ruffle, which was a part of Bertha’s own wardrobe, was taken also, and with a string of large blue beads, and an enormous baby’s rattle which Bertha unearthedfrom her treasure-chest, the costume was complete.
Bertha got her camera, and giving Elise a small, light chair to carry, they all ran back to Abiram’s kennel.
They found the little bear peacefully sleeping in the sun, and when Bertha shook him awake he showed no resentment, and graciously allowed himself to be put into the clothes they had brought. His forepaws were thrust through the openings left for the purpose, and the stiff white bows sticking up from his black shoulders, made the girls scream with laughter. The ruffled sunbonnet was put on his head, and coquettishly tied on one side, and the string of blue beads was clasped around his fat neck.
Although Abiram seemed willing to submit to the greatness that was being thrust upon him, he experienced some difficulty in sitting up in the chair in the position which Bertha insisted upon.
However, by dint of Patty’s holding his head up from behind, she herself being screened from view by a tree trunk, they induced Abiram to hold the rattle long enough for Bertha to get a picture.
“Although a successful snapshot was only achieved aftermany attempts”
“Although a successful snapshot was only achieved aftermany attempts”
Although a successful snapshot was only achieved after many attempts, yet the girls had great fun, and so silly and ridiculous did the little bear behave that Patty afterward declared she had never laughed so much in all her life.
After luncheon Mrs. Warner took her guests for a drive, declaring that after their automobile tour she felt sure that a carriage drive would be a pleasant change.
After the drive there was afternoon tea in the library, when the men appeared, and everybody chatted gaily over the events of the day.
Then they all dispersed to dress for dinner, and Patty suddenly realised that she was living in a very grown-up atmosphere, greatly in contrast to her schoolgirl life.
Bertha was a year or two older than Patty, and though as merry and full of fun as a child, she seemed to have the ways and effects of a grown-up young lady.
Elise also had lived a life which had accustomed her to formality and ceremony, and though only a year older than Patty in reality, she was far more advanced in worldly wisdom and ceremonious observances.
But Patty was adaptable by nature, and whenin Rome she was quite ready to do as the Romans did.
So she put on one of her prettiest frocks for dinner, and allowed Bertha to do her hair in a new way which seemed to add a year or so to her appearance.
There were a few other guests at dinner, and as Patty always enjoyed meeting strangers, she took great interest in all the details of entertainment at Pine Branches.
At the table she found herself seated between Bertha and Winthrop. This pleased her, for she was glad of an opportunity to get better acquainted with the young man, of whom she had seen little during the day.
Although frank and boyish in some ways, Winthrop Warner gave her the impression of being very wise and scholarly.
She said as much to him, whereupon he explained that he was a student, and was making a specialty of certain branches of scientific lore. These included ethnology and anthropology, which names caused Patty to feel a sudden awe of the young man beside her.
But Winthrop only laughed, and said, “Don’t let those long words frighten you. I assure you that they stand for most interestingsubjects, and some day if you will come to my study, I will promise to prove that to you. Meantime we will ignore my scientific side, and just consider that we are two gay young people enjoying a summer holiday.”
The young man’s affable manner and kind smile put Patty quite at her ease, and she chatted so merrily that when the dinner hour was over she and Winthrop had become good friends and comrades.
CHAPTER XVMISS AURORA BENDER
After a visit of a few days, it was decided that Mr. and Mrs. Farrington and Roger should continue the motor-trip on to Boston, and to certain places along the New England coast, while Patty and Elise should stay at Pine Branches for a longer visit.
The girls had expected to continue the trip with the others, but Bertha had coaxed them to stay longer with her, and had held out such attractive inducements that they decided to remain.
Patty, herself, was pleased with the plan, because she still felt the effects of her recent mental strain, and realised that the luxurious ease of Pine Branches would be far more of a rest than the more exciting experiences of a motor trip.
So the girls were installed for a fortnight or more in the beautiful home of the Warners, and with so many means of pleasure at her disposal,Patty looked forward to a delightful period of both rest and recreation.
One morning, Bertha declared her intention of taking the girls to call on Miss Aurora Bender.
“Who is she?” inquired Patty, as the three started off in Bertha’s pony-cart.
“She’s a character,” said Bertha, “but I won’t tell you anything about her; you can see her, and judge for yourself.”
A drive of several miles brought them to a quaint old-fashioned farmhouse.
The house, which had the appearance of being very old, was built of stone and painted a light yellow, with white trimmings. Everything about the place was in perfect repair and exquisite order, and as they drove in around the gravel circle that surrounded a carefully kept bit of green lawn, Bertha stopped the cart at an old-fashioned carriage-block, and the girls got out. Running up the steps, Bertha clanged the old brass knocker at what seemed to Patty to be the kitchen door. It was opened by a tall, gaunt woman, with sharp features and angular figure.
“Well, I declare to goodness, Bertha Warner, if you aren’t here again! Who’s thatyou’ve got with you this time? City folks, I s’pose. Well come in, all of you, but wipe your feet first. As you’ve been riding, I s’pose they ain’t muddy much, but it’s well to be on the safe side. So wipe ’em good and then troop in.”
Miss Aurora Bender had pushed her heavy gold-bowed glasses up on the top of her head, and her whole-souled smile of welcome belied the gruffness of her tone, and the seeming inhospitality of her words.
The girls took pains to wipe their dainty boots on the gaily-coloured braided rug which lay just outside the door.
Then they entered a spacious low-ceiled room, which seemed to partake of the qualities of both kitchen and dining-room. At one end was an immense fireplace, with an old-fashioned swinging crane, from which depended many skillets and kettles of highly polished brass or copper.
On either side of the room was a large dresser, with glass doors, through which showed quantities of rare old china that made Patty’s eyes shine with delight. A quaint old settle and various old chairs of Windsor pattern stood round the walls. The floor was painted yellow,and here and there were braided mats of various designs.
“Sit down, girls, sit down,” said Miss Bender, cordially, “and now Bertha, tell me these young ladies’ names,—unless, that is to say, you’d rather sit in the parlour?”
“We would rather sit in the parlour, Miss Bender,” said Bertha, quickly, and as if fearing her hostess might not follow up her suggestion, Bertha opened a door leading to the front hall, and started toward the parlour, herself.
“Well,” said Miss Bender, with a note of regret in her voice, “I s’pose if you must, you must; though for my part, I’m free to confess that this room’s a heap more cozy and livable.”
“That may be,” said Bertha, who had beckoned to the girls to follow quickly, “but my friends are from the city, as you suspected, and they don’t often have a chance in New York to see a parlour like yours, Miss Bender.”
As Bertha had intended, this bit of flattery mollified the old lady, and she followed her guests along the dark hall.
“Well, if you’re bound to have it so,” she said, “do wait a minute, and let me get in there and pull up the blinds. It’s darker than Japhet’scoat pocket. I haven’t had this room opened since Mis’ Perkins across the road had her last tea fight. And I only did it then, ’cause I wanted to set some vases of my early primroses in the windows, so’s the guests might see ’em as they came by. Seems to me it’s a little musty in here, but land! a room will get musty if it’s shut up, and what earthly good is a parlour except to keep shut up?”
As Miss Bender talked, she had bustled about, and thrown open the six windows of the large room, into which Bertha had taken the girls.
The sunlight streamed in, and disclosed a scene which seemed to Patty like a wonderful vision of a century ago.
And indeed for more than a hundred years the furniture of the great parlour had stood precisely as they now saw it.
The furniture was entirely of antique mahogany, and included sofas and chairs, various kinds of tables, bookcases, a highboy, a lowboy and other pieces of furniture of which Patty knew neither the name nor the use.
The pictures on the wall, the ornaments, the books and the old-fashioned brass candlesticks were all of the same ancient period, and Pattyfelt as if she had been transported back into the life of her great-grandmother.
As she had herself a pretty good knowledge of the styles and varieties of antique furniture, she won Miss Bender’s heart at once by her appreciation of her Heppelwhite chairs and her Chippendale card-tables.
“You don’t say,” said Miss Bender, looking at Patty in admiration, “that you really know one style from another! Lots of people pretend they do, but they soon get confused when I try to pin ’em down.”
Patty smiled, as she disclaimed any great knowledge of the subject, but she soon found that she knew enough to satisfy her hostess, who, after all, enjoyed describing her treasures even more than listening to their praises.
Miss Aurora Bender was a lady of sudden and rapid physical motion. While the girls were examining the wonderful old relics, she darted from the room, and returned in a moment, carrying two large baskets. They were of the old-fashioned type of closely-woven reed, with a handle over the top, and a cover to lift up on either side.
Miss Bender plumped herself down in the middle of a long sofa, and began rapidly to extractthe contents of the baskets, which proved to be numerous fat rolls of gayly-coloured cotton material.
“It’s patchwork,” she announced, “and I make it my habit to get all the help I can. I’m piecing a quilt, goose-chase pattern, and while I don’t know as it’s the prettiest there is, yet I don’t know as ’tisn’t. If you girls expect to sit the morning, and I must say you look like it, you might lend a helping hand. I made the geese smaller’n I otherwise would, ’cause I had so many little pieces left from my rising-sun quilt. Looks just as well, of course, but takes a powerful sight of time to sew. And I must say I’m sorter particular about sewing. However, I don’t s’pose you young things of this day and generation know much about sewing, but if you go slow you can’t help doing it pretty well.”
As she talked, Miss Bender had hastily presented each of the girls with a basted block of patchwork, and had passed around a needle-cushion and a small box containing a number of old-fashioned silver thimbles.
“Lucky I had a big family,” she commented, “else I don’t know what I’d done for thimbles to go around. I can’t abide brass things, thatmake your finger look like it had been dipped in ink, but thanks to my seven sisters who are all restin’ comfortably in their graves, I have enough thimbles to provide quite a parcel of company. Here’s your thread. Now sew away while we talk, and we’ll have a real nice little bee.”
Although not especially fond of sewing, the girls looked upon this episode as a good joke, and fell to work at their bits of cloth.
Elise was a dainty little needlewoman, and overhanded rapidly and neatly; Patty did fairly well, though her stitches were not quite even, but poor Bertha found her work a difficult task. She never did fancywork, and knew nothing of sewing, so her thread knotted and broke, and her patch presented a sorry sight.
“Land o’ Goshen!” exclaimed Miss Aurora, “is that the best you can do, Bertha Warner? The town ought to take up a subscription to put you in a sewin’ school. Here child, let me show you.”
Miss Bender took Bertha’s block and tried to straighten it out, while Bertha herself made funny faces at the other girls over Miss Aurora’s shoulder.
“I can see you,” said that lady calmly, “Iguess you forget that big mirror opposite. But them faces you’re makin’ ain’t half so bad as this sewin’ of yours.”
The girls all laughed outright at Miss Bender’s calm acceptance of Bertha’s sauciness, and Bertha herself was in nowise embarrassed by the implied rebuke.
“There, child,” said Miss Aurora, smoothing out the seams with her thumb nail, “now try again, and see if you can’t do it some better.”
“Is your quilt nearly done, Miss Bender?” asked Patty.
“Yes, it is. I’ve got three hundred and eighty-seven geese finished, and four hundred’s enough. I work on it myself quite a spell every day, and I think in two or three days I’ll have it all pieced.”
“Oh, Miss Bender,” cried Bertha, “then won’t you quilt it? Won’t you have a quilting party while my friends are here?”
“Humph,” said Miss Aurora, scornfully, “you children can’t quilt fit to be seen.”
“Elise can,” said Bertha, looking at Elise’s dainty block, “and Patty can do pretty well, and as I would spoil your quilt if I touched it, Miss Aurora, I’ll promise to let it alone; but Ican do other things to help you. Oh, do have the party, will you?”
“Why, I don’t know but I will. I kinder calculated to have it soon, anyhow, and if so be’s you young people would like to come to it, I don’t see anything to hinder. S’pose we say a week from to-day?”
The date was decided on, and the girls went home in high glee over the quilting party, for Bertha told them it would be great fun of a sort they had probably never seen before.
The days flew by rapidly at Pine Branches. Patty rapidly recovered her usual perfect health and rosy cheeks. She played golf and tennis, she went for long rides in the Warners’ motor-car or carriages, and also on horseback. There were many guests at the house, coming and going, and among these one day came Mr. Phelps, whom they had met on their journey out from New York.
This gentleman proved to be of a merry disposition, and added greatly to the gaiety of the party. While he was there, Roger also came back for a few days, having left Mr. and Mrs. Farrington for a short stay at Nantucket.
One morning, as Patty and Roger stood inthe hall, waiting for the other young people to join them, they were startled to hear angry voices in the music-room.
This room was separated from them by the length of the library, and though not quite distinct, the voices were unmistakably those of Bertha and Winthrop.
“You did!” said Winthrop’s voice, “don’t deny it! You’re a horrid hateful old thing!”
“I didn’t! any such thing,” replied Bertha’s voice, which sounded on the verge of tears.
“You did! and if you don’t give it back to me, I’ll tell mother. Mother said if she caught you at such a thing again, she’d punish you as you deserved, and I’m going to tell her!”
Patty felt most uncomfortable at overhearing this quarrel. She had never before heard a word of disagreement between Bertha and her brother, and she was surprised as well as sorry to hear this exhibition of temper.
Roger looked horrified, and glanced at Patty, not knowing exactly what to do.
The voices waxed more angry, and they heard Bertha declare, “You’re a horrid old telltale! Go on and tell, if you want to, and I’ll tell what you stole out of father’s desk last week!”
“How did you know that?” and Winthrop’s voice rang out in rage.
“Oh, I know all about it. You think nobody knows anything but yourself, Smarty-cat! Just wait till I tell father and see what he’ll do to you.”
“You won’t tell him! Promise me you won’t, or I’ll,—I’ll hit you! There, take that!”
“That” seemed to be a resounding blow, and immediately Bertha’s cries broke forth in angry profusion.
“Stop crying,” yelled her brother, “and stop punching me. Stop it, I say!”
At this point the conversation broke off suddenly, and Patty and Roger stared in stupefied amazement as they saw Bertha and Winthrop walk in smiling, and hand in hand, from exactly the opposite direction from which their quarrelsome voices had sounded.
“What’s the matter?” said Bertha. “Why do you look so shocked and scared to death?”
“N-nothing,” stammered Patty; while Roger blurted out, “We thought we heard you talking over that way, and then you came in from this way. Who could it have been? The voices were just like yours.”
Bertha and Winthrop broke into a merry laugh.
“It’s the phonograph,” said Bertha. “Winthrop and I fixed up that quarrel record, just for fun; isn’t it a good one?”
Roger understood at once, and went off into peals of laughter, but Patty had to have it explained to her.
“You see,” said Winthrop, “we have a big phonograph, and we make records for it ourselves. Bertha and I fixed up that one just for fun, and Elise is in there now looking after it. Come on in, and see it.”
They all went into the music-room, and Winthrop entertained them by putting in various cylinders, which they had made themselves.
Almost as funny as the quarrel was Bertha’s account of the occasion when she fell into the creek, and many funny recitations by Mr. Warner also made amusing records.
Patty could hardly believe that she had not heard her friends’ voices really raised in anger, until Winthrop put the same record in and let her hear it again.
He also promised her that some day she should make a record for herself, and leave it at Pine Branches as a memento of her visit.