August at Boxley Hall proved to be a month of fun and frolic. The Barlow cousins were much easier to entertain than the St. Clairs. In fact, they entertained themselves, and as for Nan Allen, she entertained everybody with whom she came in contact. Mr. Fairfield expressed himself as being delighted to have Patty under the influence of such a gracious and charming young woman, and Aunt Alice quite agreed with him. Marian adored Nan, and though she liked Bumble very much indeed, she took more real pleasure in the society of the older girl.
But they were a congenial crowd of merry young people, and when Mr.Hepworth came down from the city, as he often did, and Kenneth Harperdrifted in from next-door, as he very often did, the house party atBoxley Hall waxed exceeding merry.
And there was no lack of social entertainment. The Vernondale young people were quite ready to provide pleasures for Patty's guests, and the appreciation shown by Nan and the Barlows was a decided and very pleasant contrast to the attitude of Ethelyn and Reginald.
Sailing parties occurred often, and these Nan enjoyed especially, for she was passionately fond of the water, and dearly loved sailing or rowing.
The Tea Club girls all liked Nan, and though she was older than most of them, she enjoyed their meetings quite as much as Bumble, Marian, or Patty herself.
Bob soon made friends with the "Tea Club Annex," as the boys of Patty's set chose to call themselves. Though not a club of any sort, they were always invited when the Tea Club had anything special going on, and many times when it hadn't.
One afternoon the Tea Club was holding its weekly meeting at Marian's.
"Do you know," Elsie Morris was saying, "that the Babies' Hospital is in need of funds again? Those infants are perfect gormandisers. I don't see how they can eat so much or wear so many clothes."
"Babies always wear lots of clothes," said Lillian Desmond, with an air of great wisdom. "I've seen them; they just bundle them up in everything they can find, and then wrap more things around them."
"Well, they've used up all their wrappings," said Elsie Morris, "and they want more. I met Mrs. Greenleaf this morning in the street, and she stopped me to ask if we girls wouldn't raise some more money for them somehow."
"Oh, dear!" said Florence Douglass. "They just want us to work all the time for the old hospital; I'm tired of it."
"Why, Florence!" said Patty. "We haven't done a thing since we had that play last winter. I think it would be very nice to have some entertainment or something and make some money for them again. We could have some summery outdoorsy kind of a thing like a lawn party, you know."
"Yes," said Laura Russell, "and have it rain and spoil everything; and soak all the Chinese lanterns, and drench all the people's clothes, and everybody would run into the house and track mud all over. Oh, it would be lovely!"
"What a cheerful view you do take of things, Laura," said Elsie Morris."Now, you know it's just as likely not to rain as to rain."
"More likely," said Nan. "It doesn't rain twice as often as it rains. Now I believe it would be a beautiful bright day, or moonlight night, whichever you have the party, and nobody will get their clothes spoiled, and the lanterns will burn lovely, and you will have a big crowd, and it would be a howling success, and you'd make an awful lot of money."
"That picture sounds very attractive," said Polly Stevens, "and I say let's do it. But somehow I don't like a lawn party—it's so tame. Let's have something real novel and original. Nan, you must know of something."
"I don't," said Nan. "I'm stupid as an owl about such things. But if you can decide on something to have, I'll help all I can with it."
"And Nan's awful good help!" put in Bumble. "She works and works and works, and never gets tired. I'll help, too; I'd love to, only I'm not much good."
"We'll take all the help that's offered," said Elsie Morris, "of any quality whatsoever. But what can the show be?"
No amount of thinking or discussion seemed to suggest any novel enterprise by which a fortune could be made at short notice, and at last Nan said: "I should think, Patty, that Mr. Hepworth could help. He's always having queer sorts of performances in his studio. Don't you know the Mock Art exhibition he told us about?"
"Oh, yes," said Patty; "he'd be sure to know of something for us to do; and I think he's coming out with papa to-night. I'll ask him."
"Do," said Elsie; "and tell him it must be something that's heaps of fun, and that we'll all like, and that's never been done here before."
"All right," said Patty. "Anything else?"
"Yes; it must be something to appeal to the popular taste and draw a big crowd, so we can make a lot of money for the babies."
"Very well," said Patty; "I'll tell him all that, and I'm sure he'll suggest just the right thing."
Mr. Hepworth did come down that night, and when the girls asked him for suggestions he very willingly began to think up plans for them.
"I should think you might make a success," he said, "of an entertainment like one I attended up in the mountains last summer. It was called a 'County Fair,' and was a sort of burlesque on the county fairs or state fairs that used to be held annually, and are still, I believe, in some sections of the country."
"It sounds all right so far," said Patty. "Tell us more about it."
"Well, you know you get everybody interested, and you have a committee for all the different parts of it."
"What are the different parts of it?"
"Oh, they're the domestic department, where you exhibit pies and bed-quilts and spatter-work done by the ladies in charge."
"Of course, these exhibits aren't real, you know, Patty," said her father; "and you girls would probably be tempted to put up gay jokes on each other. For instance, that rockery arrangement of Pansy's might be exhibited as your idea of art work."
"I wouldn't mind the joke on myself, papa," said Patty, "but it might not please Pansy. But we can get plenty of things to exhibit in the domestic department. That will be easy enough. I'll borrow Miss Daggett's pumpkin bed-quilt to exhibit as my latest achievement in the line of applied art, and I'll make a pie and label it Laura Russell's, which will take the first prize; but what other departments are there, Mr. Hepworth?"
"Well, the horticulture department can be made very humourous, as well as lucrative. At this fair I went to, the ladies had a beautiful table full of pin-cushions and other gimcracks, in the shape of fruits and vegetables."
"Oh, yes," said Bumble, "I know how to make those. I can make bananas and potatoes and Nan can make lovely strawberries."
"And I can make paper flowers," said Bob, "honest, I can! Great big sunflowers and tiger lilies, and you can use them for lampshades if you like."
"Yes, the horticulture booth will be easy enough," said Nan. "I'll help a lot with that. Now, what else?"
"Then you can have an art gallery, if you like. Burlesque, of course, with ridiculous pictures and statues. I know where I can borrow a lot for you in New York."
"Gorgeous!" cried Patty, clapping her hands. "What a trump you are!What else?"
"A loan exhibition is of real interest," said Mr. Hepworth. "If you've never had one of those here, I think one or two of your members could arrange a very effective little exhibit by borrowing objects of interest from their friends about town."
"I'm sure of it," said Patty. "Miss Daggett has lovely things, and so hasMrs. Greenleaf, and Aunt Alice, and lots of people. We'll let FlorenceDouglass and Lillian Desmond look after that. It's just in their line."
"And then you must have side shows, you know; funny performances, like 'Punch and Judy,' and a fortune-telling gipsy. And then all the people who take part in it must wear fancy or grotesque costumes. And the great feature of the whole show is a parade of these people in their eccentric garb. Some walk, while others ride on decorated steeds, or in queer vehicles. Of course, there's lots of detail and lots of work about it, but if you go into the thing with any sort of enthusiasm, I'm sure you can make a big success of it."
They did go into the thing with all sorts of enthusiasm, and they did make a big success of it.
The Tea Club girls declared the scheme a fine one, and the Boys' Annex announced themselves as ready to help in any and every possible way. Committees were appointed to attend to the different departments, and as these committees were carefully selected with a view to giving each what he or she liked best to do, the whole work went on harmoniously.
The site chosen for the county fair was the old Warner place. As this was still unoccupied, it made a most appropriate setting for the projected entertainment. When Mr. Hepworth saw it he declared it was ideal for the purpose, and immediately began to make plans for utilising the different rooms of the old house.
A loan exhibition was to be held in one; and, as Patty had foreseen, many old relics and heirlooms of great interest were borrowed from willing lenders around town. In another room was the domestic exhibition, and in another the horticultural show was held.
One room was devoted to amusing the children, and contained a Punch andJudy show, fish pond, and various games.
There was a candy kitchen, where white-capped cooks could make candy and sell it to immediate purchasers.
It had been decided to hold the fair during the afternoon and evening of two consecutive days. As Nan had prophesied, these days showed weather beyond all criticism. Not too warm to be pleasant, but with bright sunshine and a gentle breeze.
At three o'clock the grand parade began, and the spectators watched with glee the grotesque figures that passed them in line.
Patty, whose special department was the candy kitchen, was dressed as the Queen of Hearts who made the renowned tarts. Mr. Hepworth had designed her dress, and though it was of simple white cheese-cloth, trimmed with red-and-gold hearts, it was very effective and becoming. She wore a gilt crown, and carried a gilt sceptre, and rode in her own little pony cart, which had been so gaily decorated for the occasion that it was quite unrecognisable. Kenneth Harper, as the Knave of Hearts, who wickedly stole the tarts, sat by her side and drove the little chariot.
Nan was dressed as a gipsy. She had a marvellous tent in which to tell fortunes, and in the parade she rode on a much-bedecked donkey.
Marian was a dame of olden time, and Bumble was a Japanese lady of high degree.
There were quaint and curious costumes of all sorts, each of which provoked much mirth or admiration from the enthusiastic audience.
After the parade, the fair was announced open, and the patrons were requested to spend their money freely for the benefit of the hospital.
So well did they respond that, as a result of their efforts, the Tea Club girls were able to present Mrs. Greenleaf with the sum of five hundred dollars toward her good work.
Toward the end of August the Barlows' visit drew toward its close. Although Patty was sorry to have her cousins go, yet she looked forward with a certain sense of relief to being once more alone with her father.
"It's lovely to have company," she confided to her Aunt Alice one day, "and I do enjoy it ever so much, only somehow I get tired of ordering and looking after things day after day."
"All housekeepers have that experience, Patty, dear," said Aunt Alice, "but they're usually older than you before they begin. It is a great deal of care for a girl of sixteen, and though you get along beautifully, I'm sure it has been rather a hard summer for you."
So impressed was Mrs. Elliott with these facts that she talked to Mr. Fairfield about the matter, and advised him to take Patty away somewhere for a little rest and change before beginning her school year again.
Mr. Fairfield agreed heartily to this plan, expressed himself as willing to take Patty anywhere, and suggested that some of the Elliotts go, too.
When Patty's opinion was asked, she said she would be delighted to go away for a vacation, and that she had the place all picked out.
"Well, you are an expeditious young woman," said her father. "And where is it that you want to go?"
"Why, you see, papa, the 1st of September, when Bob and Bumble go home from here, Nan isn't going back with them; she's going down to Spring Lake. That's a place down on the New Jersey coast, and I've never been there, and she says it's lovely, and so I want to go there."
"Well, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't," said Mr. Fairfield. "It would suit me well enough, if Nan is willing we should follow in her footsteps."
"I'm delighted to have you," said Nan, who was in a hammock at the other end of the veranda when this conclave was taking place.
"I wish we could go with the crowd," said Bob, who was perched on the veranda railing.
"I wish so, too," said Bumble; "but wishing doesn't do any good. After that letter father wrote yesterday, I think the best thing for us to do is to scurry home as fast as we can."
So the plans were made according to Patty's wish, and a few days after the Barlow twins returned to their home, a merry party left Vernondale for Spring Lake.
This party consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Elliott and Marian, Mr. Fairfield,Patty, and Nan.
They had all arranged for rooms in the same hotel to which Nan was going, and where her parents were awaiting her.
Marlborough House was its name, and very attractive and comfortable it looked to the Vernondale people as they arrived about four o'clock one afternoon in early September.
Mr. and Mrs. Allen proved to be charming people who were more than ready to show any courtesies in their power to the Fairfields, who had so kindly entertained Nan.
Although an older couple than the Elliotts, they proved to be congenial companions, and after a day or two the whole party felt as if they had known each other all their lives. Acquaintances ripen easily at the seashore, and Patty soon came to the conclusion that she was beginning what was to be one of the pleasantest experiences of her life.
And so it proved; although Mr. Fairfield announced that Patty had come down for a rest, and that there was to be very little, if any, gaiety allowed, yet somehow there was always something pleasant going on.
Every day there was salt-water bathing, and this was a great delight to Patty. The summer before, at her uncle's home on Long Island, she had learned to swim, and though it was more difficult to swim in the surf, yet it was also more fun. Nan was an expert swimmer, and Marian knew nothing of the art, but the three girls enjoyed splashing about in the water, and were never quite ready to come out when Aunt Alice or Mrs. Allen called to them from the beach.
In the afternoons there were long walks or drives along the shore, and the exercise and salt air soon restored to Patty the robust health and strength which her father feared she had lost during the summer.
In the evening there was dancing—sometimes hops, but more often informal dancing among the young people staying at the hotel. All three of our girls were fond of dancing, and excelled in the art, but Patty was especially graceful and skillful.
The first Saturday night after their arrival at Marlborough House, a large dance was to be held, and this was really Patty's first experience at what might be termed a ball.
She was delighted with the prospect, and her father had ordered her a beautiful new frock from New York, which proved to be rather longer than any she had as yet worn.
"I feel so grown up in it," she exclaimed, as she tried it on to show her father. "I think I'll have to do up my hair when I wear this grand costume; It doesn't seem just right to have it tied up with a little girl hair-ribbon."
"Patty, my child, I do believe you're growing up!" said her father.
"I do believe I am, papa; I'm almost seventeen, and I'm taller than AuntAlice now, and a lot taller than Marian."
"It isn't only your height, child, you always were a big girl. But you seem to be growing up in other ways, and I don't believe I like it I was glad when you were no longer a child, but I like to have you a little girl, and I don't believe I'll care for you a bit when you're a young woman."
"Now, isn't that too bad!" said Patty, pinching her father's cheek. "I suppose I'll have to suit myself with another father—I'm sure I couldn't live with anybody who didn't like me a bit. Well, perhaps Uncle Charley will adopt me; he seems to like me at any age."
"Oh, I'll try and put up with you," said her father, kissing her. "And meantime, what's this talk about piling up your hair on top of your head. Is it really absolutely necessary to do so, if you wear this frippery confection of dry-goods?"
"Oh, not necessary, perhaps, but I think it would look better. At any rate, I'll just try it."
"Well, you don't seem to be standing with veryreluctantfeet," said her father. "I believe you're rather anxious to grow up, after all; but run along, chicken, and dress your hair any way you please. I want you to have a good time at your first ball."
As Frank Elliott and Kenneth Harper and Mr. Hepworth came down to Spring Lake to stay over Sunday, the party of friends at Marlborough House was considerably augmented. When the young men arrived the girls were lazily basking on the sand, and Nan was pretending to read a book to the other two. Only pretending, however, for Patty kept interrupting her with nonsensical remarks, and Marian teased her by slowly sifting sand through her fingers onto the pages of the book.
"I might as well try to read to a tribe of wild Indians as to you two girls," said Nan at last. "Don't youwantyour minds improved?"
"Do you think our superior mindscanbe improved by that trash you're reading?" said Patty. "I really think some of your instructive conversation would benefit us more greatly."
"You're an ungrateful pair," said Nan, "and you don't deserve that I should waste my valuable conversation upon you. And you don't deserve, either, that I should tell you to turn your heads around to see who's coming—but I will."
Her hearers looked round quickly, and saw three familiar figures coming along the board walk.
"Goody!" cried Patty, and scrambling to her feet, she ran with outstretched hands to meet them.
She didn't look very grown up then, in her blue-serge beach dress and her hair in a long thick braid down her back, and curling round her temples in windblown locks; but to Mr. Hepworth's artist eye she looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her.
Kenneth Harper, too, looked admiringly at the graceful figure flying toward them across the sand, but Frank shouted:
"Hello, Patty, don't break your neck! we're coming down there.Where's Marian?"
"She's right here," answered Patty; "we're all right here. Your mother's up on the veranda. Oh, I'm so glad to see you! This is the loveliest place, and we're having the beautifullest time; and now that you boys have come, it will be better than ever. And there's going to be a hop tonight! Isn't that gay? Oh, how do you do, Mr. Hepworth?"
Though Patty's manner took on a shade more of dignity in addressing the older man, it lost nothing in cordiality, and he responded with words of glad greeting.
Hearing the laughter and excitement, Aunt Alice and Mrs. Allen came down from the veranda to sit on the sand by the young people. Soon Mr. Fairfield and Mr. Allen and Mr. Elliott, returning from a stroll, joined the party.
The newcomers produced divers and sundry parcels, which they turned over to the ladies, and which proved to contain various new books and magazines and delicious candies and fruits.
"It's just like Christmas!" exclaimed Patty. "I do love to have things brought to me."
"You're certainly in your element now, then," said Mr. Fairfield, looking at his daughter, who sat with a fig in one hand and a chocolate in the other, trying to open a book with her elbows.
"I certainly am," she responded. "The only flaw is that I suppose it's about time to go in to dinner. I wish we could all sit here on the sand forever."
"You'd change your mind when you reached my age," said Mrs. Allen. "I'm quite ready to go in now and find a more comfortable chair."
Later that evening Patty, completely arrayed for the dance, came to her father for inspection.
"You look very sweet, my child," he said after gazing at her long and earnestly; "and with your hair dressed that way you look very much like your mother. I'm sorry you're growing up, my baby, I certainly am; but I suppose it can't be helped unless the world stops turning around. And if it's any satisfaction to you, I'd like to have you know that your father thinks you the prettiest and sweetest girl in all the country round."
"And aren't you going to tell me that if I only behave as well as I look,I'll do very nicely?"
"You seem to know that already, so I hardly think it's necessary."
"Well, I'll tell it to you, then; for you do look so beautiful in evening clothes that I don't believe youcanbehave as well as you look. Nobody could."
"I see your growing up has taught you flattery," said her father, "a habit you must try to overcome."
But Patty was already dancing down the long hall to Aunt Alice's room, and a few moments later they all went down to the parlours.
When Kenneth first saw Patty that evening, he stood looking at her with a funny, stupefied expression on his face.
"What's the matter?" said Patty, laughing. "Just because I'm wearing a few extra hairpins you needn't look as if you'd lost your last friend."
"I—I feel as if I ought to call you Miss Fairfield."
"Well, call me that if you like, I don't mind. Call me Miss Smith or Miss Brown, if you want to—I don't care what you call me, if you'll only ask me to dance."
"Come on, then," said Kenneth; and in a moment they were whirling in the waltz, and the boy's momentary embarrassment was entirely forgotten.
"There!" said Kenneth, after the dance was over, "you look more like your old self now."
"I haven't lost any hairpins, have I?" said Patty, putting up her hands to her fluffy topknot.
"No, but you've lost that absurd dressed-up look."
"I'm getting used to my new frock. Don't you like it?"
"Yes, of course I do. I like everything you wear, because I like you. In fact, I think I like you better than any girl I ever saw."
Kenneth said this in such a frank, boyish way that he seemed to be announcing a mere casual preference for some matter-of-fact thing.
At least it seemed so to Patty, and she answered carelessly:
"Youthinkyou do! I'd like you to be sure of it, sir."
"I am sure of it," said Ken, and then, a little more diffidently: "Do you like me best?"
"Why, yes, of course I do," said Patty, smiling, "that is, after papa andAunt Alice and Marian and Uncle Charley and Frank and Mancy andPansy—and Mr. Hepworth."
Patty might not have added the last name if she had not just then seen that gentleman coming toward her.
He looked at Patty with an especial kindliness in his eyes, and said gently:
"Miss Fairfield, may I see your card?"
Patty flushed a little and her eyes fell.
"Please don't talk like that," she said. "I'm not grown up, if I am dressed up. I'm only Patty, and if you call me anything else I'll run away."
"Don't run away," said Mr. Hepworth, still looking at her with that grave kindliness that seemed to have about it a touch of sadness. "I will call you Patty as long as you will stay with me."
Then Patty smiled again, quite her own merry little self, and gave him her card, saying:
"Put your name down a lot of times, please; you are a beautiful dancer, and I like best to dance with the people I know best."
"I wish I had a rubber stamp," said Mr. Hepworth; "it's very fatiguing to write one's name on every line."
"Oh, good gracious!" cried Patty, "don't take them all. I want to save a lot for Frank and Ken—"
"And your father," said Mr. Hepworth.
"Papa? He doesn't dance—at least, I never saw him."
"But he did dance that last waltz, with Miss Allen."
"With Nan? Well, then, I rather think he can dance with his own daughter. Don't take any more; I want all the rest for him, and please take me to him."
"Here he comes now. Mr. Fairfield, your daughter wishes a word with you."
"Papa Fairfield!" exclaimed Patty, "you never told me you could dance!"
"You never asked me; you took it for granted that I was too old to frisk around the ballroom."
"And aren't you?" asked Patty teasingly.
"Try me and see," said her father, as he took her card.
The trial proved very satisfactory, and Patty declared that she must have inherited her own taste for dancing from her father.
The evening passed all too swiftly. Pretty Patty, with her merry ways and graceful manners, was a real belle, and Aunt Alice was besieged by requests for introductions to her niece and daughter. But Marian, though a sweet and charming girl, had a certain shyness which always kept her from becoming an immediate favourite. Patty's absolute lack of self-consciousness and her ready friendliness made her popular at once.
Mr. Fairfield and Nan Allen were speaking of this, as they stood out on the veranda and looked at Patty through the window.
"She's the most perfect combination," Miss Allen was saying, "of the child and the girl. She has none of the silly affectations of young-ladyhood, and yet she has in her nature all the elements that go to make a wise and sensible woman."
"I think you're right," said Mr. Fairfield, as he looked fondly at his daughter. "She is growing up just as I want her to, and developing the traits I most want her to possess. A frank simplicity of manner, a happy, fun-loving disposition, and a gentle, unselfish soul."
Meantime Patty and Mr. Hepworth were sitting on the stairs.
"Now my cup of happiness is full," remarked Patty. "I have always thought it must be perfect bliss to sit on the stairs at a party. I don't know why, I'm sure, but all the information I have gathered from art and literature have led me to consider it the height of earthly joy."
"And is it proving all your fancy painted it?" asked Mr. Hepworth, who was sitting a step below.
"Yes—that is, it's almost perfect."
"And what is the lacking element?"
"Oh, I wouldn't like to tell you," said Patty, and Mr. Hepworth was not quite certain whether her confusion were real or simulated.
"May I guess?" he asked.
"Yes, if you'll promise not to guess true," said Patty. "If you did, I should be overcome with blushing embarrassment."
"But I am going to guess, and if I guess true I will promise to go and bring you the element that will complete your happiness."
"That sounds so tempting," said Patty, "that now I hope youwillguess true. What is the missing joy?"
"Kenneth Harper," said Mr. Hepworth, looking at Patty curiously.
Without a trace of a blush Patty broke into gay laughter.
"Oh, you are ridiculous!" she said. "I haveyouhere, why should I want him?"
"Then what is it you do want?" and Mr. Hepworth looked away as he evaded her question.
"Since you make me confess my very prosaic desires, I'll own up that I'd like a strawberry ice."
"Well, that's just what I'm dying for myself," said Mr. Hepworth gaily; "and if you'll reserve this orchestra chair for me, I'll go and forage for it. It looks almost impossible to get through that crowd, but I'll return either with my shield or on it. Unless you'd rather I'd send Harper back with the ice?"
"Do just as you please," said Patty, with a sudden touch of coquetry in her smiling eyes; "it doesn't matter a bit to me."
But though a willing messenger, Mr. Hepworth found it impossible to accomplish his errand with any degree of rapidity, and when he returned, successful but tardy, he found young Harper waiting where he had left Patty.
"She's gone off to dance with Frank Elliott," explained the boy cheerfully, "and she said you and I could divide the ices between us."
"All right," said the artist; "here's your share."
The next morning Patty, Nan, and Marian went down to the beach for a quiet chat.
"Let's shake everybody," said Patty, "and just go off by ourselves. I'm tired of a lot of people."
"You're becoming such a belle, Patty," said Nan, "that I'm afraid you'll be bothered with a lot of people the rest of your life."
"No, I won't," said Patty. "Lots of people are all very well when you want them, but I'm going to cultivate a talent for getting rid of them when you don't want them."
"Can you cultivate a talent, if you have only a taste to start with?" said Marian, with more seriousness than Patty's careless remark seemed to call for.
"If you have the least little scrap of a mustard-seed of taste, and plenty of will-power, you can cultivate all the talents you want," said Patty, with the air of an oracle, "Why, what do you want to do now, Marian?"
Marian's ambitions were a good deal of a joke in the Elliott family. At one time she had determined to become a musician, and had spent, unsuccessfully, many hours and much money in her endeavours, but at last she was obliged to admit that her talents did not lie in that direction. Later on she had tried painting, and notwithstanding discouraging results, she had felt sure of her artistic ability for a long time, until at last she had proved to her own satisfaction that she was not meant to make pictures; and now, when she asked the above question in a serious tone, Patty felt sure that some new scheme was fermenting in her cousin's brain.
"What's up, Marian?" she said. "Out with it, and we'll promise to help you, if it's only by wise discouragement."
"I think," said Marian, unmoved by her cousin's attitude, "I think I should like to be an author."
"Do," said Patty; "that's the best line you've struck yet, because it's the cheapest. You see, Nan, when Marian goes in for painting and sculpture and music, her whims cost Uncle Charley fabulous sums of money. But this new scheme is great! The outlay for a fountain pen and a few sheets of stamps can't be so very much, and the scheme will keep you out of other mischief all winter."
"It does sound attractive," said Nan. "Tell us more about it. Are you going to write books or stories?"
"Books," said Marian calmly.
"Lovely!" cried Patty. "Do two at once, won't you? So you can dedicate one to Nan and one to me at the same time; I won't share my dedication with anybody."
"You can laugh all you like," said Marian; "I don't mind a speck, for I'm sure I can do it; I've been talking to Miss Fischer, she's written lots of books, you know, and stories, too, and she says it's awfully easy if you have a taste for it."
"Of course it is," said Patty; "that's just what I told you. If you have a taste—good taste, you know—and plenty of will-power and stamps, you can write anything you want to; and I believe you'll do it. Go in and win, Marian! You can put me in your book, if you want to."
"Willpower isn't everything, Patty," said Nan, whose face had assumed a curious and somewhat wistful look; "at least, it may be in literature, but it won't do all I want it to."
"What do you want, girlie?" said Patty. "I never knew you had an ungratified ambition gnawing at your heart-strings."
"Well, I have; I want to be a singer."
"You do sing beautifully," said Marian. "I've heard you."
"Yes, but I mean a great singer."
"On the stage?" inquired Patty.
"Yes, or in concerts; I don't care where, but I mean to sing wonderfully; to sing as I feel I could sing, if I had the opportunity."
"You mean a musical education and foreign study and all those things?" said Patty.
"Yes," said Nan.
"But after all that you might fail," said Marian, remembering her own experiences.
"Yes, I might, and probably I should. It's only a dream, you know, but we were talking about ambitions, and that's mine."
"And can't you accomplish it?"
"I don't see how I can; my parents are very much opposed to it. They hate anything like a public career, and they think I sing quite well enough now without further instructions."
"I think so, too," said Patty. "I'd rather hear you sing those quaint little songs of yours than to hear the most elaborate trills and frills that any prima donna ever accomplished."
"Your opinion is worth a great deal to me, Patty, as a friend, but technically, I can't value it so highly."
"Of course, I don't know much about music," said Patty, quite unabashed; "but papa thinks so too. He said your voice is the sweetest voice he ever heard."
"Did he?" said Nan.
"What is your ambition, Patty?" said Marian, after a moment's pause. "Nan and I have expressed ourselves so frankly you might tell us yours."
"My ambition?" said Patty. "Why, I never thought of it before, but I don't believe I have any. I feel rather ashamed, for I suppose every properly equipped young woman ought to have at least one ambition, and I don't seem to have a shadow of one. Really great ones, I mean. Of course, I can sing a little; not much, but it seems to be enough for me. And I can play a little on the piano and on the banjo, and I suppose it's shocking; but really I don't care to play any better than I do. I can't paint, and I can't write stories, but I don't want to do either."
"You can keep house," said Marian.
Patty's eyes lighted up.
"Yes," she said; "isn't it ridiculous? But I do really believe that's my ambition. To keep house just perfectly, you know, and have everything go not only smoothly but happily."
"You ought to have been achatelaineof the fourteenth century," saidNan.
"Yes," said Patty eagerly; "that's just my ambition. What a pity it's looking backward instead of forward. But I would love to live in a great stone castle, all my own, with a moat and drawbridge and outriders, and go around in a damask gown with a pointed bodice and big puffy sleeves and a ruff and a little cap with pearls on it, and a bunch of keys jingling at my side."
"They usually carry the keys in a basket," observed Marian; "and you forgot to mention the falcon on your wrist."
"So I did," said Patty, "but I think the falcon would be a regular nuisance while I was housekeeping, so I'd put him in the basket, and set it up on the mantelpiece, and keep my keys jingling from my belt."
"Well, it seems," said Nan, "that Patty has more hopes of realising her ambition than either of us."
"Speak for yourself," said Marian.
"I think I have," said Patty. "I have all the keys I want, and I'm quite sure papa would buy me a falcon if I asked him to."
The next Saturday Mr. Fairfield proposed that they all go for a drive to Allaire.
"What's Allaire?" said Patty.
"It's a deserted village," replied her father. "The houses are empty, the old mill is silent, the streets are overgrown; in fact, it's nothing but a picturesque ruin of a once busy hamlet."
"They say it's a lovely drive," said Nan. "I've always wanted to go there."
"The boys will be down by noon," said Mr. Elliott, "and we can get off soon after luncheon. Do you suppose, Fred, we can get conveyances enough for our large and flourishing family?"
"We can try," said Mr. Fairfield. "I'll go over to the stables now and see what I can secure."
On his return he found that Hepworth, Kenneth, and Frank had arrived.
"Well, Saturday's children," he said, "I'm glad to see you. I always know it's the last day of the week when this illustrious trio bursts upon my vision."
"We're awfully glad to burst," said Frank; "and we hope your vision can stand it."
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Fairfield; "the sight of you is good for the eyes.And now I'll tell you the plans for the afternoon."
"What luck did you have with the carriages, papa?" asked impatient Patty.
"That's what I'm about to tell you, my child, if you'll give me half a chance. I secured four safe, and more or less commodious, vehicles."
"Four!" exclaimed Marian. "We'll be a regular parade."
"Shall we have a band?" asked Nan.
"Of course," said Kenneth; "and a fife-and-drum corps besides."
"You won't need that," said Patty, "for there'll be no 'Girl I LeftBehind Me.' We're all going."
"Of course we're all going," said Mr. Fair-field; "and as we shall have one extra seat, you can invite some girl who otherwise would be left behind."
"If Frank doesn't mind," said Patty, with a mischievous glance at her cousin, "I'd like to ask Miss Kitty Nelson."
They all laughed, for Frank's admiration for the charming Kitty was an open secret.
Frank blushed a little, but he held his own and said:
"Are they all double carriages, Uncle Fred?"
"No, my boy; there are two traps and two victorias."
"All right, then, I'll take one of the traps and drive Miss Nelson."
"Bravo, boy! if you don't see what you want, ask for it. Miss Allen, will you trust yourself to me in the other trap?"
"With great pleasure, Mr. Fairfield," replied Nan; "and please appreciate my amiability, for I think they're most jolty and uncomfortable things to ride in."
"I speak for a seat in one of the victorias," said Aunt Alice; "and I think it wise to get my claim in quickly, as the bids are being made so rapidly."
"I don't care how I go," said Patty, "or what I go in. I'm so amiable, a child can play with me to-day. I'll go in a wheelbarrow, if necessary."
"I had hoped to drive you over myself," said Mr. Hepworth, who sat next to her, speaking in a low tone; "but I'll push you in a wheelbarrow, if you prefer."
"You go with me, Patty, in one of the traps, won't you?" said Kenneth, who sat on the veranda railing at her other side.
Patty's face took on a comical smile of amusement at these two requests, but she answered both at once by merrily saying:
"Then it all adjusts itself. Mr. and Mrs. Allen and Mr. and Mrs. Elliott shall have the most comfortable carriage, and Marian and Mr. Hepworth and Ken and I will go in the other."
That seemed to be the, best possible arrangement, and about three o'clock the procession started.
Patty and Marian took the back seat of the open carriage, Mr. Hepworth and Kenneth Harper sat facing them.
As Marian had already become very much interested in her new fad of authorship, and as under Miss Fischer's tuition she was rapidly developing into a real little blue-stocking, it is not strange that the conversation turned in that direction.
"I looked in all the bookshops in the city for your latest works, Miss Marian," said Mr. Hepworth, "but they must have been all sold out, for I couldn't find any."
"Too bad," said Marian. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait until a new edition is printed."
"You're not to tease Marian," said Patty reprovingly. "She's been as patient as an angel under a perfect storm of chaff, and I'm not going to allow any more of it."
"I don't mind," said Marian. "I think, if one is really in earnest, one oughtn't to be annoyed by good-natured fun."
"Quite right," said Kenneth; "and ambition, if it's worth anything, ought to rise above comment of any sort."
"It ought to be strengthened by comment of any sort," said Mr. Hepworth.
"Of any sort?" asked Marian thoughtfully.
"Yes, for comment always implies recognition, and that in itself means progress."
"Have you an ambition, Mr. Hepworth?" said Patty suddenly. "But you have already achieved yours. You are a successful artist."
"A man may have more than one ambition," said Mr. Hepworth slowly, "and I havenotachieved my dearest one."
"I suppose you want to paint even better than you do," said Patty.
"Yes," said the artist, smiling a little, "I hope I shall always want to paint better than I do. What's your ambition, Harper?"
"To build bridges," said Kenneth. "I'm going to be a civil engineer, but my ambition is to be a bridge-builder. And I'll get there yet," he added, with a determined nod of his head.
"I think you will," said Mr. Hepworth, "and I'm sure I hope so."
Then the talk turned to lighter themes than ambition, and merry laughter and jest filled up the miles to Allaire.
All were delighted with the place. Aside from the picturesque ruined buildings and the eerie mysterious-looking old mill, there was a novel interest in the strange silent air of desertion that seemed to invest the place with an almost palpable loneliness.
"I don't like it," said Patty. "Come on, let's go home."
But to Marian's more romantic imagination it all seemed most attractive, so different was her temperament from that of her sunshiny, merry-hearted cousin.
At last they did go home, and Patty chattered gaily all the way in order, as she said, to drive away the musty recollections of that forlorn old place.
"How did you like it, Nan?" she asked, when they were all back at the hotel.
"I thought it beautiful," said Nan, smiling.
That evening there was a small informal dance in the parlours. Not a large hop, like the one given the week before, but Patty declared the small affair was just as much fun as the other.
"I always have all the fun I can possibly hold, anyway," she said; "and what more can anybody have?"
Toward the close of the evening Mr. Fairfield came up to Patty, who was sitting, with a crowd of merry young people, in a cosey corner of the veranda.
"Patty," he said, "don't you want to come for a little stroll on the board walk?"
"Yes, of course I do," said Patty, wondering a little, but always ready to go with her father. "Is Nan going?"
"No, I just want you," said Mr. Fairfield.
"All right," said Patty, "I'm glad to go."
They joined the crowd of promenaders on the board walk, and as they passed Patty's favourite bit of beach she said:
"That's where we girls sit and talk about our ambitions."
"Yes, so I've heard," said Mr. Fairfield. "And what are your ambitions, baby?"
"Oh, mine aren't half so grand and gorgeous as the other girls'. They want to do great things, like singing in grand opera and writing immortal books and things like that."
"And your modest ambition is to be a good housekeeper, isn't it?"
"Well, yes, papa; but not only that. I was thinking about it afterward by myself, and I think that the housekeeping is the practical part of it—and that's a good big part too—but what I really want to be is a lovely, good,womanlywoman, like Aunt Alice, you know. I don't believe she ever wanted to write books or paint pictures."
"No she never did," said Mr. Fairfield, "and I quite agree with you that her ambitions are just as high and noble as those others you mentioned."
"Well, I'm glad you think so, papa, for I was afraid I might seem to you very small and petty to have all my ambitions bounded by the four walls of my own home."
"No, Patty, girl, I think those are far better than unbounded ambitions, far more easily realised, and will bring you greater and better happiness. But don't you see, my child, that the very fact of your having a talent—which you certainly have—for housekeeping and home-making, implies that some day, in the far future, I hope, you will go away from me and make a home of your own?"
"Very likely I shall, papa; but that's so far in the future that it's not worth while bothering about it now."
"But I'm going to bother about it now to a certain extent. Do you realise that when this does come to pass, be it ever so far hence, that you're going to leave your poor old father all alone, and that, too, after I have so carefully brought you up for the express purpose of making a home for me?"
"Well, what are you going to do about it?" said Patty, who was by no means taking her father's remarks seriously.
"Do? Why, I'm going to do just this. I'm going to get somebody else to keep my house for me, and I'm going to get her now, so that I'll have her ready against the time you leave me."
Patty turned, and by the light of an electric lamp which they were passing, saw the smile on her father's face, and with a sudden intuition she exclaimed:
"Nan!"
"Yes," replied her father, "Nan. How do you like it?"
"Like it?" exclaimed Patty. "Iloveit! I think it's perfectly gorgeous! I'm just as delighted as I can be! How does Nan like it?"
"She seems delighted too," said Mr. Fairfield, smiling.