Patty Fairfield

by Carolyn Wells

  Produced by Charles Franks, Christopher Lund and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team

  PATTY FAIRFIELD

  By

  CAROLYN WELLS

  To My Little Friend

  MARION AMES TAGGART

  Contents

  CHAP.

  I. Her Father's Plan II. Traveling North III. New Friends IV. Villa Rosa V. A Minuet VI. Purple and Fine Linen. VII. A Sleigh-Ride VIII. An Absent-Minded Cousin IX. The Flemings X. Patty's Pranks XI. The Book Party XII. The Hurly-Burly XIII. Home-Made Music XIV. A Funny Family XV. The Lawn-Party XVI. Unbounded Hospitality XVII. A Hurly-Burly FireXVIII. At Vernondale XIX. A Picnic XX. The Rescue XXI. A Reading-Club XXII. A Welcome Guest

  Patty Fairfield

  CHAPTER I

  HER FATHER'S PLAN

  "How old are you, Patty?" asked her father, abruptly.

  "Fourteen, papa,--why?"

  "My conscience! what a great girl you're getting to be. Stand up and let melook at you."

  Patty Fairfield, with two twists and a spring, brought herself to her feet,and stood awaiting her father's inspection.

  He saw a slender, graceful girl, a Southern blonde of the purest type. Herpretty golden hair would gladly have hung in curly masses, but it was onlyallowed to have its own sweet will around her temples and at the end of along thick braid. Her eyes were blue, deep and twinkly, and the rest of herface was as pretty and sweet as soft girlish contours and a perfectcomplexion could make it.

  But best of all was the gentle expression and frank, good-natured smilewhich so often broke into mischievous dimples.

  It did on this occasion, and Patty laughed merrily at her father's graveconsideration of her.

  "What is it, papa?" she asked. "Did you think I was still an infant, andwere you going to buy me a new dolls' house? Or were you going to take meto the circus? I'm not a bit too old for the circus."

  "Aren't you? Then I will take you, but what is on my mind at present is amuch more serious matter. Sit down again, Puss, and I'll tell you all aboutit.

  "You know for years I've looked forward to the time when you should grow upto be old enough to keep house for me. And I thought then we'd go backNorth and settle down among my people and your mother's relatives. Ihaven't been North since your mother died, but now I want to go, and I wantyou to spend the rest of your life there. In many ways it will be betterfor you than Virginia. You will have more advantages; your life will bebroader and more varied. Now I can't be ready to leave here for good inless than a year; I want to sell out my lumber interests and settle up mybusiness affairs.

  "But I am continually receiving letters from your aunts,--you have lots ofaunts, Patty,--and they are apparently all anxious that you shall visitthem. So, if you consent, this is my plan. You've never traveled any, haveyou, Puss?"

  "Never been out of Virginia in my life, papa."

  "No? Well, you ought to see a little of how the rest of the world lives andmoves. So I think I'll let you visit in the North for a year,--say threemonths with each of your four aunts,--and then next fall I'll be ready tojoin you, and we'll buy a house and you shall be mistress of it."

  "A home of our own? Oh, papa, I'd like that lots!"

  "Yes, so would I. As we have always lived in boarding-houses since yourmother's death, you've had no opportunity to learn the details ofhousekeeping, and these four visits will show you four very distinct typesof families."

  "Why, are my aunts all so different, papa?"

  "Indeed they are, and though I hope you can make yourself happy with eachone, yet you will find life very different in the various homes."

  "Tell me about them, papa," said Patty, contentedly settling herself backamong the cushions of the couch, for she dearly loved a long talk with herfather.

  "Well, you will go first to the St. Clairs. You remember Uncle Robert, yourmother's brother, who was here four or five years ago, don't you?"

  "Indeed I do; he brought me a French doll nearly as big as I was thenmyself,--and a whole five-pound box of candy. He is a lovely man. But I'venever seen Aunt Isabel or the children,--only their photographs."

  "Your Aunt Isabel is,--but no,--I won't tell you anything about yourrelatives. You may discover their faults and virtues for yourself. Most ofall, my child, you will need to cultivate your sense of proportion. Do youknow what proportion means?"

  "Oh, yes, papa, I studied 'ratio and proportion' in arithmetic."

  "Not that kind," said her father, smiling; "I mean a proportion of humaninterests, of amusements or occupations. I wonder if you _are_ too young tounderstand."

  "No, I'm not too young to understand _anything_," said Patty, fairlyblinking in her endeavor to look as wise as an owl.

  "Well, then, listen while I put it this way. Suppose you were to make acake, an ordinary sized cake, you know, how much yeast would you put init?"

  "Not any, papa," said Patty, laughing merrily. "I know enough housekeepingnot to put yeast in a cake. I'd use baking-powder."

  "Yes," said her father, quite undisturbed, "that is what Imeant,--baking-powder. Now how much of it would you use?"

  "Well, about two teaspoonfuls," said Patty, feeling very important andhousewifely.

  "Yes. Now suppose instead of two teaspoonfuls you put in two cupfuls."

  "Why then I wouldn't have any cake at all! I reckon it would rise right upthe chimney and run down on the roof outside."

  "Well, that shows just what I mean. There'd be a too great proportion ofbaking-powder, wouldn't there?"

  "Indeed there would," assented Patty, much interested in the conversation,but a little bewildered.

  "To try again," her father continued, "suppose your frock was so covered bytrimming that the material could scarcely be seen at all."

  "Then," said Patty, who was rapidly learning her lesson, "then there'd betoo great a proportion of trimming for the frock."

  "Ah," said her father, "you begin to see my drift, do you? And if you hadall tables in your house, and no chairs or bedsteads or bureaus, there'd betoo great a proportion of tables, wouldn't there?"

  "Yes; and I perceive," said Patty, slowly and with mock gravity, "thatproportion means to have too many of one thing, when you'd better have alot of others."

  "No, you're all wrong! That is a lack of proportion. Proportion is to haveexactly the right amount of each ingredient."

  "Yes,--and what has all this to do with Aunt Isabel? Does she put too muchbaking-powder in her cake, or has she nothing but tables in her house?"

  "Those, my dear, were only figures of speech. But if you're going to make ahome for your old father next year, I want you to learn from observationwhat are the principal ingredients to put into it, and then learn to adjustthe proportions."

  "Papa, I believe I do know what you mean, but it's all out of proportionwhen you call yourself 'my old father,' for you're not old a bit. You're abeautiful young man, and I'm sure any one who didn't know us would take youfor my brother."

  "Come, come, Puss, you mustn't be so flattering, or I'll keep you here, andnot let you go North at all; and I do believe you're just dying to go."

  "I'd like it lots if you were going too. But to be away from you a wholeyear is no fun at all. Can't I wait until next fall and we'll go together?"

  "No, Patsie; your aunts are urging me to let you visit them and I think theexperiences will do you good. And beside, my plans for the next year arevery uncertain. I may have to go to Bermuda to see about my plantationthere,--and all things considered, I think you would be better off in theNorth. I shall miss you, of course, but a year soon slips away, you know,and it will fly very quickly for you, as you will be highly entertainedwith your new experiences."

  Now, Patty Fairfield was a philosophic little girl,
so when she found thather father's mind was made up she accepted the situation and offered noobjections of any kind. And, indeed the new plan was not without its charm.Although she knew none of her aunts, she knew a great deal about them, andtheir Northern homes seemed attractive to her in many ways.

  "What about school, papa?" she said, finally.

  "That will be left to the judgment of each aunt in turn. I think AuntIsabel has a governess for her children, and Aunt Hester will probablyteach you herself. But you will learn enough, and if not, you can considerit a year's vacation, and I'll put you back in school when I am with youagain."

  "Well," said Patty, meditatively, "I think it will be very nice, and I'lllike it, but I'll be awful lonesome for you," and with a spring she jumpedinto her father's arms.

  "Yes, of course, my baby, we'll be homesick for each other, but we'll bebrave, and when we feel _very_ lonesome, we'll sit down and write eachother nice long letters."

  "Oh, that will be fun, I love letters; and here comes Clara, may I tell herabout it?"

  "Yes, and tell her she must come to see me once in a while, and cheer meafter I lose my own little girl."

  Clara Hayden was Patty's intimate friend and both the girls' hearts grewsad at the thought of parting.

  "But," said Patty, who was determined to look on the bright side, "after ayear, papa and I will have a house of our own, and then you can come andmake us a long, long visit. And we can write letters, Clara, and you musttell me all about the girls, and about school and about the Magnolia Club."

  "Yes, I will; and you write to me about all you do at your aunts' houses.Where do they live, Patty?"

  "Well, I shall go first to Aunt Isabel's, and she lives in Elmbridge.That's in New Jersey, but it's quite near New York. Next I'm going to AuntHester's; she lives in Boston. Then I'm going to visit Aunt Grace. Theylive in Philadelphia, but I'll be with them in the summertime, and thenthey're at their country place somewhere on Long Island, wherever that maybe. And the last one is Aunt Alice, and I forget the name of the town whereshe lives. Isn't it nice, Clara, to have so many aunts?"

  "Yes, lovely! I suppose you'll go to New York often."

  "I don't know; I think I'm afraid of New York. They say it's an awfuldangerous place."

  "Yes, it is. People get killed there all the time."

  "Fiddlesticks! I don't believe they do. Well, I reckon I won't get killed.Uncle Robert will take better care of me than that."