Patty's Motor Car

by Carolyn Wells

  CHAPTER III

  A LECTURE

  “Patricia,” said Mr. Fairfield, one morning at the breakfast-table.

  Patty gave a great jump, clasped her hands to her breast dramatically,and exclaimed:

  “Oh, my gracious goodness! _What_ do you call me that for?”

  “Because,” went on her father, “I’m going to lecture you, and I’m in avery serious mood.”

  “Proceed, Mr. Frederick Fairfield, Esquire;” and Patty assumed anexpression of rapt attention and excessive meekness.

  “Well, to put it in a few words, I won’t have that young Van Reypenhanging around here so much!”

  “Oh! is that all? Well, you’re barking up the wrong tree! You shouldadvise him of that fact, not me.”

  “Incidentally, as I go along, consider yourself reproved for that awfulbit of slang. But now I’m concerned with this other subject. It won’t benecessary for me to speak to the young man, for I’m telling you that youmust discourage his attentions somewhat. He comes too often.”

  “I think so, too,” agreed Patty, calmly. “But it isn’t me—I, he comesto see. It’s Nan.”

  “Oh, Patty, how silly!” exclaimed Nan, laughing and blushing a little.

  “Yes, it is, daddy. Nan encourages him something scan’lous! I don’twonder you kick!”

  “Object, Patty, not kick.”

  “Yes, sir; object is just what I mean.” Patty’s demure air made herfather laugh, but he returned to his theme.

  “As you know, child, I like to have you amused and happy, and I like tohave your young friends come to see you. But this chap has already beenhere three evenings this week, and it’s only Thursday.”

  “That leaves him just three more to come, doesn’t it?” said Patty,counting on her fingers.

  “Indeed, it does not! If he keeps this up, he’ll be forbidden the housealtogether.”

  “Oh, what a pity! And he such a nice young man, with rosy cheeks andcurly hair! Father, you’re cruel to your only child!”

  “Now, Patty, behave yourself. You’re too young to have a man calling onyou so often, and I really object to it.”

  “‘I will be good, dear mother, I heard a sweet child say,’”

  hummed Patty, “and I’ll tell you frankly, my stern parent, that, ifyou’ll only let the Van Reypen villain stay by me until I get thesepuzzles done, I don’t care if I never see him again after that.”

  “Oh, Patty,” cried Nan, “how ungrateful!”

  “Ungrateful, perhaps, to that bold, bad young man, but obedient to mydear, kind, old father.”

  When Patty was in this amiably foolish mood, she was incorrigible, soMr. Fairfield said:

  “All right, my lady. Let him come a few times to work out thosepestilential puzzles, and then I shall hold you to your promise, to cuthis acquaintance.”

  “Is he really as bad as all that, father?” asked Patty, in awestrucktones.

  “He isn’t bad at all. He’s a most estimable and exemplary young man. ButI won’t have anybody calling on you three nights in one week, at yourage. It’s out of the question! Kenneth doesn’t.”

  “But Ken is so busy.”

  “No, it’s because he has some idea of the proprieties.”

  “And hasn’t Mr. Van Reypen _any_ idea of the proprieties?” Patty’s eyesopened wide at this awful suggestion.

  “Yes, he has;” and Mr. Fairfield smiled in spite of himself. “Or, hewould have, if you’d let him! It’s all your fault, Patty; you drag himhere, to mull over those idiotic questions!”

  “I drag him here! Oh, father, what a rudeness! Well, I simply _must_have his help on the rest of those puzzles. How would it be if youengaged him as my assistant, and paid him a salary? Would that helpmatters?”

  “How many of your precious puzzles are done?”

  “Sixty-nine out of the hundred.”

  “How many have you solved yourself?”

  “About fifty.”

  “Then that man did nineteen for you?”

  “Yes; and, if he hadn’t, I _never_ could have guessed them! Oh, he _is_clever!”

  “And when do the answers have to be sent in?”

  “April first.”

  “H’m! an appropriate day! Well, Patty, as your heart is so set on thisthing, carry it through; but don’t ever begin on such a task again. Now,Mr. Van Reypen may help you, if you wish, but I mean it when I say hemust not come here to call more than twice in one week.”

  “All right,” agreed Patty, cheerfully. “May I send him some puzzles toguess, father?”

  “Well, I won’t have you writing to him. Not letters, I mean. But, if youcan’t guess a puzzle, you may send it to him, and I trust you not to letthis permission develop into a correspondence.”

  “No, sir; I won’t,” said Patty.

  But, after Mr. Fairfield had gone away, the girl turned to Nan, with aperplexed look.

  “Whatever ails father,” she said, “to talk to me like that?”

  “He’s right, Patty. You don’t see the difference, but there is a greatdifference between your friendship for Kenneth and Roger, which datesfrom your schooldays, and your sudden acquaintance with Mr. Van Reypen,who is older, and who is a far more experienced man of the world.”

  “But Mr. Hepworth is a lot older than Mr. Van Reypen, and nobody objectsto his coming here.”

  “Mr. Hepworth is an old friend of your father’s, and has always been inthe habit of coming here often.”

  “Well, these distinctions are too much for me,” declared Patty. “But Idon’t care a snip-jack about Philip Van Reypen, personally. If I canjust have his help on my thirty-one remaining problems, I’ll cheerfullybid him farewell forevermore.”

  There was no mistaking Patty’s sincerity, and Nan felt decidedlyrelieved, for she and her husband had feared that Patty was taking toodeep a personal interest in the attractive young millionaire.

  “All right, girlie. Suppose, then, you send him two or three of yourbrain-rackers, and ask him to come around, say, on Monday next. Thatwill convey a gentle hint not to come sooner.”

  “That’s a long time,” said Patty, dubiously; “but, if I need to, I cansend him more puzzles before that.”

  Patty ran away to her study, and spent the morning working on herpuzzles. It was by no means drudgery, for she enjoyed it all. Thepuzzles were of all sorts, from charades and square words, to the mostabstruse problems. She solved several, and four she gave up asimpossible for her ever to guess. These she concluded to send to Mr. VanReypen.

  But it was more difficult than she anticipated, to compose a note to gowith them.

  She had no wish to disobey her father’s commands, even in spirit, andwanted to write an impersonal letter, such as he would approve.

  But, for some reason, she couldn’t accomplish it. Philip Van Reypen washimself so straightforward, and so quick to see through any subterfuge,that all the notes she wrote seemed to her artificial and insincere. Shetore them up one after another, and at last, seizing her pen again, shewrote rapidly:

  “DEAR MR. VAN REYPEN:

  “It’s no use. I’ve written a dozen notes and torn them up, trying to imply, or hint politely, what I prefer to say right out. It seems my parents think you come here too often, and, I daresay, you think so, too. So, at their command, you’re not to come again till next Monday. Come at four o’clock, and _don’t_ ask to stay to dinner. I enclose some puzzles that I hope you can solve. I can’t.

  “Sincerely yours, “PATRICIA FAIRFIELD.”

  “There!” said Patty, to herself, as she read it over, “I think thatwould do credit to a ‘Young Lady’s Model Letter Writer.’ It tells thetruth without subterfuge, and it certainly does not invite thecorrespondence father is so afraid of. Now, I’m not going to touch theseold puzzles again, to-day, or I’ll have brain failure. I think I’l
l goand practise some new songs. Music hath charms to sooth a puzzledbreast.”

  So Patty warbled away for an hour or so, in her clear, sweet voice, andNan came down to the music room to listen.

  “Oh, Patty,” she said, “if you’d put half the time and pains on yourmusic that you do on those foolish puzzles, you’d be a great singer!”

  “Think so, Nannikins? I doubt it.”

  “Yes, you would. You have a lovely voice, but it needs more training andlots of practice.”

  “Well, it won’t get it. Life’s too short; and, too, nobody cares forparlour tricks of a musical nature. I sing well enough to entertain theFairfield family, and that’s all I care for.”

  “Patty, have you no ambition?”

  “Yes; but my ambitions are sensible. If I practised four hours a day,I’d still have only a small parlour voice,—not a concert voice. Andthere’d be four hours a day wasted. And days are _so_ short, anyway. I’mgoing to Christine’s this afternoon; do you want the motor?”

  “Why, yes; I did expect to make some calls.”

  “Oh, well, you can drop me on the way. But, won’t it be fun, Nan, when Iget my own little runabout? I’ll be quite independent of Miller and thebig car.”

  “You can’t use it alone in the city.”

  “Oh, yes, I could! Just to fly over to Christine’s in the afternoon, orsomething like that. Father would kick at first, but he’d soon get usedto it.”

  “You do wind that poor man around your finger, Patty.”

  “Good thing, too. If I didn’t, he’d wind me around his finger. So, as itis, I have the best of it. But I’m not at all sure I’ll catch thatrunabout, after all. The first of April draweth near, and many of thosesilly problems refuse to let themselves be solved.”

  “I hope you will get it, after you’ve worked so hard.”

  “I hope so, too. But hopes don’t solve anagrams and enigmas.”

  “Oh, well, if you don’t get it, there’s always room for you in the bigcar. What time do you want to go to Christine’s?”

  “About four. She won’t be home till then. Does that suit your plans?”

  “Perfectly, my child.”

  So, at four o’clock, Nan left Patty at Christine’s new home.

  It was not a typical boarding-house, but an apartment occupied by twoelderly people, who had a room to spare, which seemed just right for theyoung art student.

  Even in the short time she had been there, Christine had done much tomake the plain room more attractive. And Patty had helped, for many ofthe comforts that had been added had been her gifts. A growing palm, anda smaller bowl of ferns looked thrifty and well-kept; and a large jar ofexquisite pink roses gave the place a gala air.

  “What lovely roses!” exclaimed Patty, sniffing daintily at one of them.

  “Yes, aren’t they?” said Christine. “Mr. Hepworth sent them. He sendsthem every week. Isn’t he kind?”

  “Yes, but no kinder than he ought to be. Everybody ought to be good toyou, Christine.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, because you’re so sweet and good, yourself. And you work so hard,and you never complain,—and you’re so pretty.”

  Patty added the last clause, because her former words brought a pinkglow to Christine’s cheeks, and a shining light to her dark eyes, andshe looked indeed beautiful.

  “I do work hard; but, Patty, I’m winning out! I’ve already had someillustrations accepted by a good magazine; and I’ve orders for twomagazine covers.”

  “Fine! Why, Christine, you’ve arrived!”

  “Not quite that; but I’m steadily going ahead. I say that quite withoutconceit. It’s simply that I’m learning how to use the talent I have.”

  “You dear!” cried Patty. “As if any one could imagine _you_ conceited!And, of course, you’re going ahead,—fast!”

  “And, Patty, Mrs. Van Reypen is so good to me. I don’t understand it.Why, she fairly showers me with kindnesses.”

  “I understand it. Mrs. Van Reypen is very eccentric. If she dislikespeople, she can’t be caustic enough to them or about them. But, if shetakes a fancy to any one, then she just adores her. And I’m so gladshe’s taken a fancy to you,—for she surely has.”

  “Yes, she has. But sometimes it embarrasses me, for she invites me tosee her so often, or to go to entertainments with her, and I _have_ torefuse, for I mustn’t neglect my work.”

  “Oh, she understands that. You stand by your work, and I know her wellenough to know she’ll respect and admire you all the more for it.”