"If I can only live up to it all," sighed Patty, as she looked at the enormous collection of iron, tin, wood, and granite.
"Or down to it," said Marian.
"I did think," said Patty, in a disgusted tone, "that we could get settled in the house in time to eat our Christmas dinner there, but it doesn't look a bit like it. I was over there this afternoon, and such a hopeless-looking mess of papering and painting and plumbing I never saw in my life. I don't believe it willeverbe done!"
"I don't either," said Marian; "those men work as slow as mud-turtles."
The conversation was taking place at the Elliotts' dinner-table, andUncle Charley looked up from his carving to say:
"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good, and the slower the mud-turtles are, the longer we shall have our guests with us. For my part, I shall be very sorry to see pretty Patty go out of this house."
Patty smiled gaily at her uncle, for they were great friends, and said:
"Then I shall expect you to visit me very often in my new home,—that is, if I ever get there."
"I can't see our way clear to a Christmas dinner in Boxley Hall," saidMr. Fairfield; "but I think I can promise you, chick, that you caninvite your revered uncle and his family to dine with you there on NewYear's day."
There were general exclamations of delight at this from all except Patty, who looked a little bewildered.
"What's the matter, Patsie?" said her uncle. "Don't you want to entertain your admiring relatives?"
"Yes," said Patty, "of course I do; but it scares me to death to think of it! How can I have a dinner party, when I don't know anything about anything?"
"Aunt Alice will tell you something about something," said her father; "and I'll tell you the rest about the rest."
"Oh, I know it will be all right," said Patty, quickly regaining confidence, as she looked at her father. "If papa says the house will be ready, I know it will be, and if he says we'll have a dinner party on New Year's day, I know we will; and so I now invite you all, and I expect you all to accept; and I hope Aunt Alice will come early."
"I shall come the night before," said Marian, "so as to be sure to be there in time."
"I'm not sure that any of us will be there the night before," said Mr. Fairfield, laughing. "I've guaranteed the house for the dinner, but I didn't say we would be living there at the time."
"That's a good idea," said Aunt Alice; "let Patty entertain her first company there, and then come back here for the reaction."
"Well, we'll see," said Patty; "but I'd like to go there the first day ofJanuary, and stay there."
By some unknown methods, Mr. Fairfield managed to stir up the mud-turtle workmen to greater activity, and the work went rapidly on. The wall-papers seemed to get themselves into place, and the floors took on a beautiful polish; bustling men came out from the city and put up window-shades, and curtains, and draperies; and, under Mr. Fairfield's supervision, laid rugs and hung pictures.
The ladies of the Elliott household organised themselves into a most active sewing-society.
Grandma, Aunt Alice, Marian, and Patty hemmed tablecloths and napkins with great diligence, and even little Edith was allowed to help with the kitchen towels.
Everybody was so kind that Patty began to feel weighed down with gratitude. The girls of the Tea Club made the tea-cloth that they had proposed, and they also brought offerings of pin-cushions, and doilies and centre-pieces, until Patty's room began to look like a booth at a fancy bazaar.
One Saturday morning, as the sewing-circle was hard at work, little Gilbert came in carrying a paper bag, which evidently contained something valuable.
"It's for you, Patty," he said. "I brought it for you, to help keep house; and its name is Pudgy."
Depositing the bag in his cousin's lap, little Gilbert knelt beside her."You needn't open it," he cried; "it will open itself!"
And, sure enough, the mouth of the bag untwisted, and a little grey head came poking out.
"A kitten!" exclaimed Patty; "a Maltese kitten. Why, that's just the very thing I wanted! Where did you get it, Gilbert, dear?"
"From the milkman," said Gilbert proudly. "We always get kitties from him, and I telled him to pick out a nice pretty one for you. Do you like it?"
"I love it," said Patty, cuddling the little bunch of grey fur; "and Pudgy is just the right name for it. It's the fattest little cat I ever saw."
"Yes," said Gilbert gravely; "don't let it get thin, will you?"
"No, indeed," said Patty; "I'll feed it on strawberries and cream all the year round!"
That same afternoon Patty and Aunt Alice started out on a cook-hunting expedition. A Cook's Tour, Frank called it; and the tourists took it very seriously.
"Much of the success of your home, Patty," said Aunt Alice, as they were going to the Intelligence Office, "depends upon your cook; for she will be not only a cook, but, in part, housekeeper, and overseer of the whole place. And while you must, of course, exercise your authority and demand respect, yet at the same time you will find it necessary to defer to her judgment and experience on many occasions."
"I know it, Aunt Alice," said Patty very earnestly; "and I do want to do what is right. I want to be the head of papa's home, and yet there are a great many things that my servants will know more about than I do. I shall have to be very careful about my proportion; but if you and papa will help me, I think I'll come out all right."
"I think you will," said Aunt Alice, but she smiled a little at the assured toss of her niece's head.
The Intelligence Office proved to be as much misnamed as those institutions usually are, and varying degrees of unintelligence were shown in the candidates offered for the position of cook at Boxley Hall; though, if the applicants seemed unsatisfactory to Patty, in many cases she was no less so to them.
One tall, rawboned Irishwoman seemed hopefully good-tempered and capable, but when she discovered that Patty was to be her mistress, instead of Mrs. Elliott, as she had supposed, she exclaimed:
"Go 'way wid yez! Wud I be workin' for the likes of a child like that? No, mum, I ain't no nurse; I'm a cook, and I want a mistress as has got past playing wid dolls."
"I hope you'll find one," said Patty politely; "and I'm afraid we wouldn't suit each other."
Another Irish girl, with a merry rosy face and frizzled blonde hair, was very anxious to go to work for Patty.
"Sure, it will be fun!" she said. "I'd like to work for such a pretty little lady; and, sure, we'd have the good times. Could I have all me afternoons out, miss?"
"Not if you lived with me," said Patty, laughing. "My house is large, and there's a great deal of work to be done by somebody. I think my cook couldn't do her share if she went out every afternoon."
Many others were interviewed, but each seemed to have more or less objectionable traits. One would not come unless she were the only servant; another would not come unless Patty kept five. Most of them showed such a decided lack of respect to so young a mistress that Aunt Alice began to despair of finding the kind, capable woman she had imagined. They went home feeling rather discouraged, but when Patty told her troubles to her father, he only laughed.
"Bless your heart, child," he said; "you couldn't expect to engage a whole cook in one afternoon! It's a long and serious process."
"But, papa, you said we'd be all settled and ready by the first ofJanuary."
"Yes, I know, but I didn't say which January."
"Now, you're teasing," said Patty; but she ran away with a light heart, feeling sure that somehow a cook would be provided.
That evening, according to appointment, Pansy Potts appeared for inspection. The whole Elliott family was present, and observed with much interest the strange-looking girl.
But, though ignorant and awkward, Pansy was not embarrassed, and, seeming to realise that her fate lay in the hands of Mrs. Elliott, Mr. Fairfield, and Patty, she addressed herself to them.
Her manner, though untrained, showed respectful deference, and her expressive black eyes showed quick perception and clever adaptability.
"She is all right at heart," thought Mr. Fairfield to himself, "but she knows next to nothing. I wonder if it would be a good plan to let the two girls help each other out."
"Have you ever waited at table, Pansy?" he asked, so pleasantly thatPansy Potts felt encouragement rather than alarm.
"No, sir; but I could learn, and I would do exactly as I was told."
"That's the right spirit," said Mr. Fairfield "I think perhaps we'll have to give you a trial."
"But don't you know anything of a housemaid's duties?" inquired AuntAlice, who was a little dubious in the face of such absolute ignorance."For instance, if the door-bell should ring, what would you do?"
"I would have asked Miss Patty beforehand, ma'am, and I would do whatever she had told me to."
"Good enough!" exclaimed Mr. Fairfield. "I think you'll do, Pansy; at any rate, you'll have nothing to unlearn, and that's a great deal."
So the waitress was engaged, and it was not long after this that a cook "dropped from the skies," as Patty expressed it.
One afternoon a large and amiable-looking coloured woman appeared at Mrs. Elliott's house, with a note from Mrs. Stevens recommending her as a cook for Patty. As soon as Patty saw her she liked her, but, remembering previous experiences, she said:
"Do you understand that you are to work for me? I'm a very young housekeeper, you know."
"Laws, missy, dat's all right. Til do de housekeepin' and you can do de bossin'. I reckon we'll get along mos' beautiful."
"That sounds attractive, I'm sure," said Patty, laughing. "What is your name?"
"Emancipation Proclamation Jackson," announced the owner of the name proudly.
"That's a big name," said Patty; "I couldn't call you all that at once."
"Co'se I shouldn't expect it. Mancy, mos' folks calls me, and dat's good enough for me; but I likes my name, my whole name, and it does look beautiful, wrote."
"I should think it might," said Aunt Alice. "Can you cook, Mancy?"
"Oh, yas'm, I kin cook everything what there is to cook, and I can make things besides. Oh, they won't be no trouble about my cookin'. I know dat much!"
"Are you a good laundress?" asked Aunt Alice.
"Yas'm, I am! Ef I do say it dat shouldn't, you jes' ought to see de clothes I sends up! Dey's jes' like druvven snow. Oh, dey won't be no trouble about de laundry work!"
"And can you sweep?" said Patty.
"Can I sweep? Law, chile, co'se I kin sweep! What yo' s'pose I want to hire out for, ef I can't do all dem things? Oh, dey won't be no trouble about sweepin'!"
"Well, wherewillthe trouble be, Mancy?" said Patty.
"Dey moughtn't be any trouble, miss," said the black woman earnestly; "but if dey is, it'll be 'count o' my bein' spoke cross to. I jes' nachelly can't stand bein' spoke cross to. It riles me all up."
"I don't believe there will be any trouble on that score," said Patty, laughing. "My father and I are the best-natured people in the world."
"I believe yo', missy; an' dat's why I wants to come."
"There will be another servant, Mancy," said Aunt Alice; "a young girl who will be a waitress. She is ignorant and inexperienced, but Very willing to learn. Do you think you could get along with her?"
"Is she good-natured?" asked Mancy.
"I don't know her very well," said Patty; "but I think she is. I'm sure she will be, if we are."
"Den dat's all right," said Mancy. "I kin look after you two chilluns, I 'spect, and get my work done, too. When shall I come?"
"The house isn't quite ready yet," said Patty; "but I hope to go there to live on New Year's day."
"I think we'd be glad of Mancy's help a few days before that," saidAunt Alice.
And so, subject to Mr. Fairfield's final sanction, Mancy was engaged. And now Patty's whole establishment, including Pudgy the cat, was made up.
A few days before the close of the old year, Patty sat at her desk in the library of Boxley Hall.
She was making lists of good things to be ordered for the feast on New Year's day; and, as it was her first unaided experience with such memoranda, she wore an air of great importance and a deeply puckered brow.
Mancy, with her arms comfortably akimbo, stood before her young mistress ready to suggest, but tactfully chary of advice.
They were not yet living in the new home, but all the furniture was in place, the furnace fire had been started, and the palms arranged in the little conservatory.
So Patty spent most of her time there, and some of the Elliotts were usually there with her.
But this morning she was alone with Mancy, struggling with the all-important lists.
"I'll make the salad myself," she remarked, as she wrote "olive oil" on her slip of paper.
"Yas'm," answered Mancy, rolling her eyes with an expression of dubious approval. "Does yo' know how, missy?"
"Oh, yes," said Patty confidently; "I can make most beautiful salad dressing. Only it does take quite a long time, and I shall have a lot to do Thursday morning. Perhaps I'd better leave it to you this time, Mancy. Can you make it?"
"Laws, yes, honey; and yo'd better leave it to me. Yo'll have enough to do with yo' flowers and fixin's, and dressin' yourself up pretty. I'll 'tend to the food."
"Well, all right, Mancy; I wish you would. And, now, just help me with this list. I'll read it to you, and see if you think of anything that I've forgotten."
"Yas'm," said Mancy, who was most anxious to help, but who had already learned that Patty was a little inclined to resent unasked advice.
They were deep in the fascinating bewilderments of grocers' and greengrocers' wares, when Pansy Potts appeared in the doorway.
"Miss Patty," she said, "I've done all the things you told me to do; and I watered the palms, and I've poked around that bunchy rosebush, but I'm 'most sure it's going to die; and now, if you please, when can I be let to fix up my own room?"
"Sure enough, Pansy," said Patty; "we must get at that room of yours, and we'll fix it up as pretty as we can."
"Mine, too," said Mancy; "I wants my room fixed up nice. I fetched a lot of pictures to liven it up some, but I reckon I ain't got no time to put 'em up to-day."
"Oh, yes, you have, Mancy," said Patty, rising; "and, anyway, we'll go right up and look at those rooms; then I can tell what we need to get for them."
"Mine won't need anything," said Pansy, "except what's in it already, and what I've got to put in it myself. I brought my decorations over this morning."
"Oh, you did?" said Patty. "Well, bring them along, and we'll all go upstairs together."
"I'll get mine, too," said Mancy, shuffling toward the kitchen.
The servants' rooms were in the third story. They had been freshly papered and neatly and appropriately furnished, though Patty had not, as yet, added any pictures or ornaments.
And, apparently, she would have no occasion to do so; for, as she went up to these rooms, she was immediately followed by their future occupants, each of whom came with her arms full of what looked like the most worthless rubbish.
"Whatisall that stuff, Pansy?" exclaimed Patty, as she beheld her young waitress fairly staggering under her load.
"They're lovely things, Miss Patty, and I hope you don't mind. This is a hornet's nest, and this is a branch of an apple tree, with a swing-bird's nest on it."
"A branch! It's a big limb,—a bough, I should call it. Whatareyou going to do with it?"
"I thought I'd put it on the wall, Miss Patty. It makes the room look outdoorsy."
"It does, indeed! Put it up, if you like; but will you have room then to get in yourself?"
"Oh, yes," said Pansy cheerfully; "and I've got a big tub over home thatI want to bring; it has an orange tree planted in it."
"With oranges on?"
"Oh, no, not oranges; indeed, it hasn't any leaves on, but I think maybe they'll come."
"It must be beautiful!" said Patty. "But if it hasn't any leaves on, it's probably dead."
"Oh, no, Miss Patty, it isn't dead; and it had leaves a-plenty, but my little brother he picked the leaves all off. That's one reason I wanted to come here, so's to get my orange tree away from Jack."
"Well, bring it along," said Patty good-naturedly. "What else are you going to have? A grape-vine, I suppose, trained over the headboard of your bed."
"No, Miss Patty, I haven't got no grapevine, but I've got a wandering-jew-vine in a pot, that I want to set on the mantel."
"All right," said Patty, "bring your wandering-jew, and let him wander wherever he likes. You'll have to keep your door shut, or he'll wander out and run downstairs. What's in that bag?"
"Rocks, Miss Patty."
"Rocks? What in the world are you going to do with those?"
"I'm going to make a rockery, ma'am, by the window. They're just beautiful. Miss Powers has one in her parlour, and I always wanted one, but mother wouldn't let me have it, 'cause she says it clutters."
"But, what is it?" said Patty. "How do you make it?"
"Oh, you just pile the stones up in a heap, and you stick dried grasses, and autumn leaves and things, in them; and, if ever you have any flowers, you know, you stick them in, too."
"I see; it must be very effective; and sometimes I can give you flowers for it, I'm sure."
"Thank you, Miss Patty; I hope you will. Oh, I'll be so glad to have it; I've been saving these stones for it for years. You see, they're beautiful stones."
Pansy Potts was on her knees arranging the stones, many of which were jagged pieces of quartz shining here and there with mica scales, into a symmetrical pile, which somehow had the effect of a Pagan altar.
"Well," said Patty, as she watched her, "I don't think you'll need any of the decorations I expected to give you."
"Oh, Miss Patty," said Pansy earnestly, "please don't make me have pictures, and pincushions, and vases, and all those things; I like my own things so much better."
"You shall fix your room just as you choose," said Patty kindly; "and if I can help you in any way, I'll be glad to do so. How areyouprogressing, Mancy?"
Patty stepped across the hall to her cook's room, and found its stout occupant rather precariously perched on a chair, tacking up a picture. She had evidently improved her time, for many other pictures were already in place, and, what is unusual in either a public or private art-gallery, the pictures were all exactly alike. They were large, very highly coloured, unframed, and, in fact, were nothing more or less than advertisements of a popular soap. The subject was a broadly-grinning old coloured woman, washing clothes, that were already snow-white, in a sea of soapsuds.
"For goodness' sake, Mancy!" exclaimed Patty. "Who said you might drive tacks all over these new walls, and where did you get all those pictures of yourself?"
"They does favour me, don't they, missy?" exclaimed Mancy, beaming with delight, as she took another tack from her mouth, and pounded it into place. "I got 'em from de grocer man, and co'se I has to tack 'em, else how would dey stay up?"
"But you have so many of them."
"Laws, chile, only a dozen; youse got mo'n that on the libr'y wall."
"But ours are different; these are all alike."
"Co'se dey's all alike! I des nachelly gets tired of lookin' at different pitchers. It 'stracts my head."
"I should think these would distract your head. I feel as if I were in a kinetoscope."
"Does that mean art-gal'ry?"
"Not exactly; but tell me, Mancy, did you get all these pictures because they looked like you? And was the grocer willing to give you so many?"
"Yas'm. But I 'spects I'll hab to confess a little about dat, Miss Patty. You see, I dun tole him I was gwine t' work for yo', and dat's huccome he guv 'em to me."
"That's all right, Mancy. After he gets that long order we made out this morning, I'm sure he'll feel he was justified in favouring us; but get down out of that chair. In the first place, you'll fall and break your neck, and if you don't, you'll break the chair. Get down, and I'll tack up the rest of your pictures."
"Thank you, missy, do; and I'll hand you the tacks. There's only six more, anyhow. I 'llowed to have three over the mantel, and two over that window, and one behind the door."
"But you can't see it; that door is usually open."
"No'm; but I'll know it's there jes' the same."
"All right; here goes, then," and soon Patty had the rest of the gaudy lithographs tacked into their designated places.
"Now, Mancy," she said, as she jumped down from the chair for the last time, "you don't want any other pictures, do you? It would interfere with the artistic unities to introduce any other school."
"Laws 'a' massy, chile; I don't want to go to school! Miss Patty, sometimes you does cert'nly talk like a Choctaw Injun. Leastways,Ican't understand you."
"It doesn't really matter," said Patty, "and we're even, anyway; for I can't understand whyyouwant those fearful posters in your room, instead of the nice little pictures I had planned to give you."
"Oh, yes; I knows yo' nice little pictures! with a narrow black ban', jes' about the size ob a sheet of mo'nin' paper! No, thank you, missy, no black-bordered envelopes hanging on my wall! Give me good reds and yallers and blues; the kind you can hear with yo' eyes shut. That is, ef yo' don't mind, missy. Ef yo' does, I'll take 'em all right slam-bang down."
"No, no, Mancy; it's all right. In your own room I want you to have just exactly what you want, and nothing else. Now, let's go and see how Pansy's getting along."
The rockery was completed, and was a most imposing structure. Wheat ears and dried oats were sticking out from between the stones, and pressed autumn leaves added a touch of colour. At the base of the rockery were a large pink-lined conch-shell and several smaller shells. On the walls were various branches of different species of vegetation; among others a tangle of twigs of the cotton plant, from which depended numerous bolls.
Pansy was struggling with a lot of evergreen boughs, which she was trying to crowd into a strange-looking receptacle.
"How do you like it, Miss Patty?" she asked, as Patty stood in the doorway and gazed in.
"I like it very much, for you, Pansy," replied Patty. "If this is the kind of room you want, I'm very glad for you to have it; only, I don't know whether to call it 'First Course in Mineralogy,' or 'How to Tell the Wild Flowers,'"
To say that Boxley Hall was in readiness for the party would be stating it very mildly. It was overflowing,—yes, fairly bursting with readiness.
New Year's day was on Thursday, and Patty had decreed that on that day none of the Elliotts should go to Boxley Hall until they came as guests.
Dinner was to be at two o'clock, and in the morning Patty and her father went over to their new home together.
"Just think, papa," said Patty, squeezing his hand as they went along, "how many times we have walked—and run, too, for that matter—from Aunt Alice's over to our house; but this time it's different. We're going to stay, to live, really toresidein our own home; and whenever we go to Aunt Alice's again, it will be to visit or to call. Oh, isn't it perfectly lovely! If I can only live up to it, and do things just as you want me to."
"Don't take it too seriously, Pattikins; I don't expect you to become an old and experienced housewife all at once. And I don't want you to wear yourself out trying to become such a personage. Indeed, I shall be terribly disappointed if you don't make ridiculous mistakes, and give me some opportunity to laugh at you."
"You are the dearest thing, papa; that's just the way I want you to feel about it; and I think I can safely promise to make enough blunders to keep you giggling a good portion of the time."
"Oh, don't go out of your way to furnish me with amusement. And now, how about your party to-day? Is everything in tip-top order?"
"Yes, except a few thousand things that I have to do this morning, and a few hundred that I want you to do."
"I shall see to it, first, that the carving-knife is well sharpened. It's the first time that I have carved at my own table for a great many years, and I want the performance to be marked by grace and skill."
"It will be, if you do it, papa; I'm sure of that," and by this time they had reached the gate, and Patty was skipping along the path and up the steps, and into the door of her own home.
Mancy and Pansy Potts were already there, and, to a casual observer, it looked as if there was nothing more to do except to admit the guests.
Patty had set the table the day before, and, to the awestruck admiration of Pansy Potts, had arranged the beautiful new glass and china with most satisfactory effects. Pansy had watched the proceedings with intelligent scrutiny and, when it was finished, had told Patty that the next time she would be able to do it herself.
"You'll have a chance to try," Patty had answered, "for in the evening we'll have supper, and you may set the table all by yourself; and I'll come out and look it over to make sure it's all right."
But, as Patty had said, there was yet much to be done on Thursday morning, even though there were eight hands to make the work light.
Boxes of flowers had arrived from the florist's, and these had to be arranged in the various rooms; also, a few potted plants in full bloom had come for the conservatory, and these so delighted the soul of Pansy Potts that Patty feared the girl would spend the whole day nursing them.
"Come, Pansy," she called; "let them grow by themselves for a while; I want your help in the kitchen."
"But, oh, Miss Patty, they're daisies! Real white daisies, with yellow centres!"
"Well, they'll still be daisies to-morrow, and you'll have more time to admire them then."
Patty's ambitions in the culinary line ran to the fanciful and elaborate confections which were pictured in the cook-books and in the household periodicals; especially did she incline toward marvellous desserts which called for spun sugar, and syllabubs, and rare sweetmeats, and patent freezing processes.
For her New Year's dinner party she had decided to try the most complicated recipe of all, and, moreover, intended to surprise everybody with it.
Warning her father to keep out of the kitchen on pain of excommunication, she rolled up her sleeves and tied on a white apron; and with her open book on the table before her, began her proceedings.
Pansy Potts was set to whipping cream with a new-fangled syllabub-churn, and Mancy was requested to blanch some almonds and pound them to a paste in a very new and very large mortar.
Though the good-natured Mancy was more than willing to help her young mistress through what threatened to be somewhat troubled waters, yet she had the more substantial portions of the dinner to prepare, and there was none too much time.
As Patty went on with her work, difficulties of all sorts presented themselves. The cream wouldn't whip, but remained exasperatingly fluid; the sugar refused to "spin a thread," and obstinately crystallised itself into a hard crust; the almonds persisted in becoming a lumpy mass, instead of a smooth paste; and the gelatine, as Patty despairingly remarked, "acted like all possessed!"
But, having attempted the thing, she was bound to carry it through, though it was with some misgivings that she finally poured a queer and sticky-looking substance into the patent freezer.
Pansy Potts had declared herself quite able to accomplish the freezing process; but, as she was about to begin, she announced in tragic tones that the extra ice hadn't come.
"Oh!" exclaimed Patty, in desperation, "everything seems to go wrong about that dessert! Well, Pansy, you use what ice there is, and I'll telephone for some more, right away."
But when Patty called up the ice company she found that their office was closed for the day, and, hanging up the receiver with an angry little jerk, she turned to find her father smiling at her.
"I see you have begun to amuse me," he said; "but never mind about my entertainment now, Puss; run away and get dressed, or you won't be ready to receive your guests. It's half-past one now."
"Oh, papa, is it so late? And I have to get into that new frock!"
"Well, scuttle along, then, and make all the haste you can."
Patty scuttled, but during the process of making all the haste she could, she very nearly lost her temper.
The new white frock was complicated; the broad white hair-ribbons were difficult to tie; and, as it was the first time that she had made a toilette in her new home, it is not at all surprising that many useful or indispensable little articles were missing.
"Pansy," she called, as she heard the girl in the dining-room, "do, for mercy's sake, come up and help me. I can't find my shoe-buttoner, and I can't button the yoke of this crazy dress without it."
Pansy came to the rescue, and just as the Elliott family came in at the front gate, Patty completely attired, but very flushed and breathless from her rapid exertions—flew downstairs and tucked her arm through her father's, as he stood in the hall.
"I'm here," she said demurely, and trying to speak calmly.
"Oh, so you are," he said. "I thought a white cashmere whirlwind had struck me. Ihopeyou didn't hurry yourself."
"Oh, no!" said Patty, meeting his merry smile with another. "I just dawdled through my dressing to kill time."
"Yes, you look so," said her father, and just then the doorbell rang.
"Oh, papa," cried Patty, her eyes dancing with excitement, "isn'tit just grand! That's the first ring at our own doorbell, ourowndoorbell, you know; and hasn't it a musical ring? And now it will be answered by our own Pansy."
Without a trace of the hurry and fluster that had so affected her young mistress, Pansy Potts, in neat white cap and apron, opened the door to the guests.
Patty nudged her father's arm in glee, as they noted the correct demeanour of their own waitress, and then all such considerations were drowned in the outburst of enthusiasm that accompanied the entrance of the Elliotts. The younger members of the family announced themselves with wild war-whoops of delight, and the older ones, though less noisy, were no less enthusiastic.
"I like Cousin Patty's house," announced Gilbert, sitting down in the middle of the floor. "I will stay here always. Where is the Pudgy kitty-cat?"
"I'll get her for you, right away," said Patty. "She is fatter than ever; but, first, let me make grandma comfortable."
Taking Mrs. Elliott's bonnet and wraps, Patty led the old lady to a large easy-chair, and announced that she must sit there for a few moments and rest, before she made a tour of inspection around the house.
Grandma Elliott had not been allowed in the new house while it was being arranged, lest she should take cold, and so to-day it burst upon her in all its glory. By this time Frank and Marian were investigating the conservatory, and little Edith was announcing that Cousin Patty had a "Crimson Gambler."
"She means Crimson Rambler!" exclaimed Patty; "or, as Pansy calls it, 'that bunchy rosebush.'"
Although the guests had been invited to a two-o'clock dinner, yet when the clock hands pointed to nearly three, the meal had not been announced.
There was so much to be talked about that the time did not drag, but AuntAlice looked at Patty a little curiously.
Patty caught the glance, and excusing herself, went out into the kitchen.
"Mancy!" she exclaimed; "it's almost three o'clock. Why don't you have dinner?"
"Well, honey, yo' took so much of my time mashin' your old nuts dat my work got put behind. Dinner'll come on after a while; it's mos' ready."
Patty went back to the parlour, laughing.
"If anybody can hurry up Mancy," she said, "they're welcome to try it. I didn't realise it was so late, and I'm awfully sorry; but I guess we'll have dinner pretty soon, now."
"Don't be sorry we're going to have it soon," said Frank; "none of the rest of us are, I assure you."
Although served about an hour late, the dinner was a great success. It had been carefully planned; Mancy's cooking was beyond reproach, and Pansy Potts proved a neat-handed and quick-witted, if inexperienced, Phyllis.
Encouraged by the general excellence of the courses, as they succeeded one another, Patty began to hope that her gorgeous dessert would turn out all right after all.
Seated at the head of her own table, she made a charming little hostess, and many a glance of happy understanding passed between her and the gentleman who presided at the other end.
"I say, Patty, it's right down jolly, you having a house of your own," said Frank.
"Except that we miss you awfully over home," added Uncle Charley.
"I don't see how you can," said Patty, smiling; "as I took breakfast there this morning, you haven't yet gathered round your lonely board without me."
"No, but we shall have to," said Uncle Charley, "and it is that which is breaking my young heart."
"Well,thisis what's breakingmyyoung heart," said Patty, as she watched Pansy Potts, who was just entering the room with a dish containing a most unattractive-looking failure.
"I may as well own up," she said bravely, as the dessert was placed in front of her. "My ambition was greater than my ability."
"Don't say another word," said Aunt Alice. "Iunderstand; those spun-sugar things are monuments of total depravity."
Patty gave her aunt a grateful glance, and said, "They certainly are, Aunt Alice; and I'll never attempt one again until I've made myself perfect by long practice."
"Good for you, my Irish Pat," said Frank; "but, do you know, I like them better this way. There's an attraction about that general conglomeration that appeals to me more strongly than those over-neat concoctions that look as if they had sat in a caterer's window for weeks."
But, notwithstanding Frank's complimentary impulses, the dessert proved uneatable, and had to be replaced with crackers and cheese and fruit and bonbons.
It was quite late in the evening before the Elliotts left Boxley Hall; but after they had gone, Patty and her father still lingered in the library for a bit of cosey chat.
"Isn't it lovely," said Patty, with a little sigh of extreme content, "to sit down in our own library, and talk over our own party? And, by the way, papa, how do you like our library; is it all your fancy painted it?"
"Yes," said Mr. Fairfield, looking around critically, "the library is all right; but, of course, as yet it is young and inexperienced. It remains for us to train it up in the way it should go; and I feel sure, under our ministrations and loving care, it will grow better as it grows older."
"We've certainly got good material to work on," said Patty, giving a satisfied glance around the pretty room. "And now, Mr. Man, tell me what you think of our first effort at hospitality? How did the dinner party go off today?"
"It went off with flying colours, and you certainly deserve a great deal of credit for your very successful first appearance as a hostess. Of course, if one were disposed to be critical—"
"One would say that one's elaborate dessert—"
"Was a very successful imitation of a complete failure," interrupted Mr. Fairfield, laughing. "And this is where I shall take an opportunity to point a moral. It is not good proportion to undertake a difficult and complicated recipe for the first time, when you are expecting guests."
"No, I know it," said Patty; "and yet, papa, you wouldn't expect me to have that gorgeous French mess for dinner when we're all alone, would you? And so, when could we have it?"
"Your implication does seem to bar the beautiful confection from our table entirely; and yet, do you know, it wouldn't alarm me a bit to have that dessert attack us some night when you and I are at dinner quite alone and unprotected."
"All right, papa, we'll have it, and I'm sure, after another trial, I can make it just as it should be made."
"Don't be too sure, my child. Self-confidence is a good thing in its place, but self-assurance is a quality not nearly so attractive. I think, Patty, girl," and here Mr. Fairfield put his arm around his daughter and looked very kindly into her eyes; "I think every New Year's day I shall give you a bit of good advice by way of correcting whatever seems to me, at the time, to be your besetting sin."
Patty smiled back at her father with loving confidence.
"But if you only reform me at the rate of one sin per year, it will be a long while before I become a good girl," she said.
"You're a good girl, now," said her father, patting her head. "You're really a very good girl for your age, and if I correct your faults at the rate of one a year, I don't think I can keep up with the performance for very many years. But, seriously, Pattikins, what I want to speak to you about now is your apparent inclination toward a certain kind of filigree elaborateness, which is out of proportion to our simple mode of living. I have noticed that you have a decided admiration for appointments and services that are only appropriate in houses run on a really magnificent scale; where the corps of servants includes a butler and other trained functionaries. Now, you know, my child, that with your present retinue you cannot achieve startling effects in the way of household glories. Am I making myself clear?"
"Well, you're not so awfully clear; but I gather that you thought that ridiculous pudding I tried to make was out of proportion to Pansy Potts as waitress."
"You have grasped my meaning wonderfully well," said her father; "but it was not only the pudding I had in mind, but several ambitious attempts at an over-display of grandeur and elegance."
"Well, but, papa, I like to have things nice."
"Yes, but be careful not to have them more nice than wise. However, there is no necessity for dwelling on this subject. I see you understand what I mean; and I know, now that I have called your attention to it, your own sense of proportion will guide you right, if you remember to follow its dictates."
"But do you imagine," said Patty roguishly, "that such a mild scolding as that is going to do a hardened reprobate like me any good?"
"Yes," said her father decidedly, "I think it will."
"So do I," said Patty.
Next morning at breakfast Patty could scarcely eat, so enthusiastic was she over the delightful sensation of breakfasting alone with her father in their own dining-room.
Very carefully she poured his coffee for him, and very carefully PansyPotts carried the cup to its destination.
"I didn't ask Marian to stay last night," slid Patty, "because I wanted our first night and our first breakfast all alone by ourselves."
"You're a sentimental little puss," said her father.
"Yes, I think I am," said Patty. "Do you mind?"
"Not at all; if you keep your sentiment in its proper place, and don't let it interfere with the somewhat prosaic duties that have of late come into your life."
"Gracious goodness' sakes!" said Patty; "that reminds me. What shall I order from the butcher this morning?"
"Don't ask me," said Mr. Fairfield. "I object to being implicated in matters so entirely outside my own domain."
"Oh, certainly," said Patty; "that's all right. I beg your pardon, I'm sure. And don't feel alarmed; I'll promise you shall have a tip-top dinner."
"I've no doubt of it, and now good-bye, Baby, I must be off to catch my train. Don't get lonesome; have a good time; and forget that your father scolded you."
"As if I minded that little feathery scolding! Come home early, and bring me something nice from the city. Good-bye."
Left to herself, Patty began to keep house with great diligence. She planned the meals for the day, made out orders for market, gave the flowers in the vases fresh water, and looking in at the conservatory, she found Pansy Potts digging around the potted daisies with a hairpin.
"Pansy," she said kindly, "I'm glad to have you take care of the flowers; but you mustn't spend all your time in here. Have you straightened up in the dining-room yet?"
"No, ma'am," said Pansy; "but these little daisies cried so loud to be looked after that I just couldn't neglect them another minute. See how they laugh when I tickle up the dirt around their toes."
"That's all very well, Pansy," said Patty, laughing herself; "but I want you to do your work properly and at the right time; now leave the daisies until the dining-room and bedrooms are all in order."
"Yes, Miss Patty," said Pansy, and, though she cast a lingering farewell glance at the beloved posies, she went cheerfully about her duties.
"Now," thought Pansy, "I'll telephone to Marian to come over this afternoon and stay to dinner, and stay all night; then we can arrange about having the Tea Club to-morrow. Why, there's the doorbell; perhaps that's Marian now. I don't know who else it could be, I'm sure."
In a few moments Pansy Potts appeared, and offered Patty a card on a very new and very shiny tray.
"For goodness' sake, who is it, Pansy?" asked Patty, reading the card, which only said, "Miss Rachel Daggett."
"I don't know, Miss Patty, I'm sure. She asked for you, and I said you'd go right down."
"Very well; I will," said Patty.
A glance in the mirror showed a crisp fresh shirt-waist, and neatly brushed hair, so Patty ran down to the library to welcome her guest.
The guest proved to be a large, tall, and altogether impressive-looking lady, who spoke with a great deal of firmness and decision.
"I am Miss Daggett," she said, "and I am your neighbour."
"Are you?" said Patty pleasantly. "I am very glad to meet you, and I hope you will like me for a neighbour."
"I don't know whether I shall or not," said Miss Daggett; "it depends entirely on how you behave."
Although Patty was extremely good-natured, she couldn't help feeling a little inclined to resent the tone taken by her guest, and she returned rather crisply:
"I shall try to behave as a lady and a neighbour."
"Humph!" said Miss Daggett. "You're promising a good deal. If you accomplish what you've mentioned, I shall consider you the best neighbour I've ever experienced in my life."
Patty began to think her strange guest was eccentric rather than impolite, and began to take a fancy to the somewhat brusque visitor.
"I live next-door," said Miss Daggett, "and I am by no means social in my habits. Indeed, I prefer to let my neighbours alone; and I am not in the habit of asking them to call upon me."
"I will do just as you like," said Patty politely; "call upon you or not. It is not my habit to call on people who do not care to see me. But, on the other hand, I shall be happy to call upon such of my neighbours as ask me to do so."
"Oh, people don't have to call upon each other merely because they are neighbours," said Miss Daggett; "and that's why I came in here to-day, to let you understand my ideas on this matter. I have lived next-door to this house for many years, and I have never cared to associate with the people who have lived in it. I have no reason to think that you will prove of any more interest to me that any of the others who have lived here. Indeed, I have reason to believe that you will prove of less interest to me, because you are so young and inexperienced that I feel sure you will be a regular nuisance. And I would like you to understand once for all, that you are not to come to me for advice or assistance when you make absurd and ridiculous mistakes, as you're bound to do."
At first Patty had grown indignant at Miss Daggett's conversation, but soon she felt rather amused at what was doubtless the idiosyncrasy of an eccentric mind, and she answered:
"I will promise not to come to you for advice or warning, no matter how much I may need assistance."
"That's right," said Miss Daggett very earnestly; "and remember, please, that your cook is not to come over to my house to borrow anything; not even eggs, butter, or lemons."
"I'll promise that, too," said Patty, trying not to laugh; though she couldn't help thinking that her first caller was an extraordinary one.
"Well, you really behave quite well," said Miss Daggett; "I am very much surprised at you. I came over here partly to warn you against interfering with myself and my household, but also because I wanted to see what you're like. I had heard that you were going to live in this house, and that you were going to keep house yourself; and, though I was much surprised that your father would let you do such a thing, yet I can't help thinking that you're really quite sensible. Yet, I want you to understand that you are not to borrow things from my kitchen."
"I am glad that you think I'm sensible," said Patty, looking earnestly at her visitor, toward whom she felt somehow drawn in despite of her queer manners. "And I'll promise not to borrow anything from you under any circumstances."
"That is all right," said Miss Daggett, rising; "and that is all I came to say to you. I will now go home, and if I ever feel that I want you to return this call, I will let you know. Otherwise, please remember that I do not care to have it returned."
Patty showed her guest to the door, and dismissed her with a polite"Good-bye."
"Well!" she exclaimed to herself, as Miss Daggett walked out of the front gate with an air of stalwart dignity. "That's a delightful specimen of a caller, but I hope I won't have many more like that. She's a queer kind of a neighbour, but somehow I rather think if I saw her more I should like her better."
Marian came to dinner, and Frank came with her. As he announced when he entered, he had had no invitation, but he said he did not hesitate on that account.
"I should think not," said Patty. "I expect all the Elliott family to live at my house, and only go home occasionally to visit."
So Frank proceeded to make himself at home, and when Mr. Fairfield arrived a little later and dinner was served, it was a very merry party of four that sat down to the table.
As Patty had promised her father, the dinner was excellent, and it was with a pardonable pride that she dispensed the hospitality of her own table.
"What's the dessert going to be, Patty?" asked Frank. "Nightingales' tongues, I suppose, served on rose-leaves."
"Don't be rude, Frank," said his sister. "You're probably causing your hostess great embarrassment."
"Not at all," said Patty; "I am now such an old, experienced housekeeper, that I'm not disturbed by such insinuations. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Frank, but the dessert is a very simple one. However, you are now about to have a most marvellous concoction called 'Russian Salad.' I was a little uncertain as to how it would turn out, so I thought I'd try it tonight, as I knew my guests would be both good-natured and hungry."
"That's a combination of virtues that don't always go together," said Mr. Fairfield. "I hope the young people appreciate the compliment. To be good-natured and hungry at the same time implies a disposition little short of angelic."
"So you see," said Marian, "you're not entertaining these angels unawares."
"Bravo! pretty good for Mally," said Frank, applauding his sister's speech. "And if I may be allowed to remark on such a delicate subject, your salad is also pretty good, Patty."
"It's more than pretty good," said Marian. "It's a howling, screaming, shouting success. I am endeavouring to find out what it's made of."
"You can't do it," said Mr. Fairfield. "I have tried, too; and it seems to include everything that ever grew on the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth."
"Your guesses are not far out of the way," said Patty composedly. "I will not attempt to deny that that complicated and exceedingly Frenchified salad is concocted from certain remainders that were set away in the refrigerator after yesterday's dinner."
"Who would have believed it?" exclaimed Frank, looking at his plate with mock awe and reverence.
"Materials count for very little in a salad," said Marian, with a wise and didactic air. "Its whole success depends on the way it is put together."
"Now, that's a true compliment," said Patty; "and it is mine, for I made this salad all myself."
After dinner they adjourned to the library, and the girls fell to making plans for the Tea Club, which was to meet there next day.
"I do think," said Marian, "it's awfully mean of Helen Preston to insist on having a bazaar. They're so old-fashioned and silly; and we could get up some novel entertainment that would make just as much money, and be a lot more fun besides."
"I know it," said Patty. "I just hate bazaars; with their everlastingRebeccas at the Well, and flower-girls, and fish-ponds, and gipsy-tents.But, then, what could we have?"
"Why, there are two or three of those little acting shows that ElsieMorris told us about. I think they would be a great deal nicer."
"What sort of acting shows are you talking about, my children; and what is it all to be?" asked Mr. Fairfield, who was always interested in Patty's plans.
"Why, papa, it's the Tea Club, you know; and we're going to have an entertainment to make money for the Day Nursery—oh, you just ought to see those cunning little babies! And they haven't room enough, or nurses enough, or anything. And you know the Tea Club never has done any good in the world; we've never done a thing but sit around and giggle; and so we thought, if we could make a hundred dollars, wouldn't it be nice?"
"The hundred dollars would be very nice, indeed; but just how are you going to make it? What's this about an acting play?"
"Oh, not a regular play,—just a sort of dialogue thing, you know; and we'd have it in Library Hall, and Aunt Alice and a lot of her friends would be patronesses."
"It would seem to me," said Frank, "that Miss Patty Fairfield, now being an old and experienced housekeeper, could qualify as a patroness herself."
"No, thank you," said Patty. "I'm housekeeper for my father, and in my father's house, but to the great outside world I'm still a shy and bashful young miss."
"You don't look the part," said Frank; "you ought to go around with your finger in your mouth."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" said Patty. "I shall begin to cultivate the habit at once."
"Do," said Marian; "I'm sure it would be becoming to you, but perhaps hard on your gloves."
"Well, there's one thing certain," said Patty:
"I would really rather put my finger in my mouth than to crook out my little finger in that absurd way that so many people do. Why, Florence Douglass never lifts a cup of tea that she doesn't crook out her little finger, and then think she's a very pattern of all that's elegant."
"I know it," said Marian. "I think it's horrid, too; it's nothing but airs. I know lots of people who do it when they're all dressed up, but who never think of such a thing when they are alone at home."
"I wonder what the real reason is?" said Patty thoughtfully.
"It is an announcement of refinement," said Mr. Fairfield, falling in with his daughter's train of thought; "and, as we all know, the refinement that needs to be announced is no refinement at all. We therefore see that the conspicuously curved little finger is but an advertisement of a specious and flimsy imitation of aristocracy."
"Papa, you certainly do know it all," said Patty. "I haven't any words by me just now, long enough to answer you with, but I quite agree with you in spirit."
"That's all very well," said Frank, "for a modern, twentieth-century explanation, but the real root of the matter goes far back into the obscure ages of antiquity. The whole habit is a relic of barbarism. Probably, in the early ages, only the great had cups to drink from. These few, to protect themselves from their envious and covetous brethren, stuck out their little fingers to ward off possible assaults upon their porcelain property. This ingrained impulse the ages have been unable to eradicate. Hence we find the Little Finger Crooks upon the earth to-day."
"What an ingenious boy you are," said Patty, looking at her cousin with mock admiration. "How did you ever think of all that?"
"That isn't ingenuity, miss, it's historic research, and you'll probably find that Florence Douglass can trace her ancestry right back to the aforesaid barbarians."
"I suppose most of us are descended from primitive people," said Marian.
And then the entrance of Elsie Morris and her brother Guy put an end to the discussion of little fingers.
"I'm so glad to see you," said Patty, welcoming her callers. "Come right into the library, you are our first real guests."
"Then I think we ought to have the Prize for Promptness," said Elsie, as she took off her wraps. "But don't you count Frank and Marian?"
"Not as guests," replied Patty; "they're relatives, and you know your relatives—"
"Are like the poor," interrupted Frank, "because they're always with you."
"Then, we are really your first callers?" said Guy Morris.
"No, not quite," said Patty, laughing. "I spoke too hastily when I said that, and forgot entirely a very distinguished personage who visited me this morning."
"Who was it?"
"My next-door neighbour, Miss Daggett."
"What! Not Locky Ann Daggett!" exclaimed Elsie, laughing merrily.
"It was Miss Rachel Daggett. I don't know why you call her by that queer name," said Patty.
"Oh, I've known her ever since I was a baby, and mother always calls her Locky Ann Daggett, and grandmother did before her. You know Locky is a nickname for Rachel."
"I didn't know it," said Patty. "What an absurd nickname."
"Yes, isn't it? How did you like her?"
"It isn't a question of liking," answered Patty. "She doesn't want me to like her. All she seemed to care about was to have me promise not to interfere with her."
"Oh, she's afraid of you," said Guy. "You don't seem so very terrifying, now, but I suppose when you're engaged in the housekeeping of your house you're an imposing and awe-inspiring sight."
"I dare say I am," said Patty; "but my neighbour, Miss Daggett, I'm sure, would be imposing at any hour of the day or night."
"She's a queer character," said Elsie. "Have you never seen her before?"
"No; I never even heard of her until she sent up her card."
"Why, how funny," said Marian; "I've always heard of Locky Ann Daggett, but I never knew anything about her, except that she's very old and very queer."
"She's a sort of humourous character," said Guy Morris; "strong-minded, you know, and eccentric, but not half bad. I quite like the old lady, though I almost never see her."
"No; she doesn't seem to care to see people," said Patty. "She seems to have no taste for society. Why, I don't suppose she'd care to take part in our play, even if we invited her."
"Oh, what about the play?" said Elsie. "Have you really decided to have a play, instead of that stupid old fair?"
"We haven't decided anything," said Patty, "we can't until the club meets to-morrow."
"Oh, do have a play," said Frank, "and then us fellows can take part. We couldn't do anything at a bazaar, except stand around and buy things."
"And we're chuck-full of histrionic talent," put in Guy. "You ought to see me do Hamlet."
"Yes," said Frank, "Guy's Hamlet is quite the funniest thing on the face of the earth. I do love comedy."
"So do I," said Guy, "I just love to play a side-splitting part like Hamlet."
"Then you may have a chance," said Marian, "for one of the plays we're thinking about—and it isn't exactly a play either—brings in a whole lot of tragic characters in a humourous way. It's a general mix-up, you know: Hamlet, and Sairy Gamp, and Rip Van Winkle, and Old Mother Hubbard, and everybody."
"Yes, that's a good one," said Marian; "it's called 'Shakespeare at theSeashore.'"
"The name is enough to condemn that piece," said Mr. Fairfield; "not one of you can say it straight."
And sure enough, though numerous attempts were made, and much laughter ensued, none entirely successful.