Patty's Fortune E-Book

Carolyn Wells

• Herausgeber: idb
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Seitenzahl: 266

Beschreibung

“I think Labour Day is an awfully funny holiday,” remarked Patty. “It doesn’t seem to mean anything. It doesn’t commemorate anybody’s birth or death or heroism.” “It’s like Bank Holiday in England,” said her father. “Merely to give the poor, tired business man a rest.” “Well, you don’t specially need one, Daddy; you’ve recreated a lot this summer; and it’s done you good,—you’re looking fine.” “Isn’t he?” said Nan, smiling at the finely tanned face of her husband. The Fairfields were down at “The Pebbles,” their summer home at the seashore, and Patty, who had spent much of the season in New England, had come down for a fortnight with her parents ...

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Patty's Fortune

Date of first publication: 1916

Carolyn Wells (1862-1942)

Patty knew that a momentous decision lay before her       (Page 292)

Patty’s Fortune

BY

CAROLYN WELLS

Author of

The Patty Books, The Marjorie Books,

Two Little Women Series, etc.

Illustrations by E. C. Caswell

Copyright, 1916

By

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

PAGE

I

An Invitation

9

II

The Hotel

23

III

A Midnight Message

37

IV

Blue Rock Lake

52

V

M’lle Farini!

64

VI

Maude’s Confidences

78

VII

The Fortune Teller

93

VIII

A Ride Together

107

IX

The “Shower”

123

X

Good-bye, Sweetheart

136

XI

A Bubble Burst

150

XII

Middy

166

XIII

Chick’s Plan

179

XIV

A Great Success

193

XV

ILLUSTRATIONS

Patty knew that a momentous decision

lay before her

(Page 292)

Frontispiece

Facing page

A moment Patty thought. Then she said,

“No thank you, Billee, I don’t”

60

Patty’s sweet voice charmed by

its sympathy

86

“Tell me if you told Aunty Van

that you would learn to love me”

274

CHAPTER I

AN INVITATION

“I think Labour Day is an awfully funny holiday,” remarked Patty. “It doesn’t seem to mean anything. It doesn’t commemorate anybody’s birth or death or heroism.”

“It’s like Bank Holiday in England,” said her father. “Merely to give the poor, tired business man a rest.”

“Well, you don’t specially need one, Daddy; you’ve recreated a lot this summer; and it’s done you good,—you’re looking fine.”

“Isn’t he?” said Nan, smiling at the finely tanned face of her husband.

The Fairfields were down at “The Pebbles,” their summer home at the seashore, and Patty, who had spent much of the season in New England, had come down for a fortnight with her parents. Labour Day was early this year and the warm September sun was more like that of midsummer.

The place was looking lovely, and Patty herself made a pretty picture, as she lounged in a big couch hammock on the wide veranda. She had on a white summer frock and a silk sweater of an exquisite shade of salmon pink. Her silk stockings were of the same shade, and her white pumps were immaculate.

Mr. Fairfield looked at the dainty feet, hanging over the edge of the hammock, and said, teasingly, “I’ve heard, Patty, that there are only two kinds of women: those who have small feet, and those who wear white shoes.”

Patty surveyed the feet in question. “You can’t start anything, Dad,” she said; “as a matter of fact, there’s only one kind of women today for they all wear white shoes. And my feets are small for my age. I wear fours and that’s not much for a great, big girl like me.”

“’Deed it isn’t, Patty,” said Nan; “your feet are very slender and pretty; and your white shoes are always white, which is not a universal condition, by any means.”

“You’re a great comfort, Nan,” and Patty smiled at her stepmother. “Dunno what I’d do without you, when the Governor tries to take a rise out of me.”

“Oh, I’ll buy your flowers, little girl,” and Nan smiled back, for there was great friendship and chumminess between these two. “Are you tired, Pats? You look—well,—interestingly pale.”

“Washed out, you mean,” and Patty grinned. “No, I’m not exactly tired, but I’ve been thinking——”

“Oh, then of course you’re exhausted! You oughtn’t to think, Patty!”

“Huh! But listen here. This is Monday, and between now and Saturday night I’ve got to go to fourteen different functions, of more or less grandeur and gaiety. Fourteen! And not one can I escape without making the other thirteen mad at me!”

“But, Patty,” said Mr. Fairfield, “that’s ridiculous. Of course, you can refuse such invitations as you choose.”

“Of course I can’t, Lord Chesterfield. I’ve got to show up at every blessed one,—or not at any. I’d like to cut the whole caboodle!”

“Why don’t you?” asked Nan. “Just retire into solitude, and I’ll say you’re suffering from—from——”

“Temporary mental aberration!” laughed Patty. “No, that wouldn’t suit me at all. Why, this afternoon, I’m going to a Garden Tea that I wouldn’t miss for a farm. There’s to be a new man there!”

“Well, just about the last thing you need on this earth is a new man!” declared her father. “You’ve a man for every day in the week now, with two thrown in for Sunday.”

Patty looked demure. “I can’t help it,” she said. “I’m that entertaining, you know. But this new man is a corker!”

“My child, what langwich, what langwich!”

“’Tisn’t mine. That the way he was described to me. So, of course, I want to see if he is any good. And, you won’t believe it, but his name is Chick Channing!”

“What!”

“Yes, it is. Chickering Channing, for long, Chick for short.”

“What was his mother thinking of?”

“Dunno. Prob’ly he was named for a rich uncle, and she couldn’t help the combination.”

“Who is he?”

“One of Mona’s Western friends. Arrives today for a week or so. Mona’s Tea is in his honour, though she was going to have it anyway.”

“Well,” said Mr. Fairfield, judicially, “of course you must go to that Tea, and subjugate that young man. Then have him over here and I’ll size him up. If you want him, I’ll buy him for you.”

“Thank you, dear Father, but I have toys enough. Well, then, tonight is the Country Club Ball. And I do hate that, for there are so many uninteresting people at it, and you have to dance with most of them. And tomorrow there’s a poky old luncheon at Miss Gardiner’s. I don’t want to go to that. I wish I could elope!”

“Why don’t you, Patty?” said Nan, sympathetically; “cut it all, and run up to Adele’s, or some nice, quiet place.”

“Adele’s a quiet place! Not much! Even gayer than Spring Beach. And, anyway, it isn’t eloping if you go alone. I want to elope with a Romeo, or something exciting like that. Well! for goodness gracious sakes’ alive! Will you kindly look who’s coming up the walk!”

They followed the direction of Patty’s dancing blue eyes and saw a big man, very big and very smiling, walking up the gravel path, with a long, swinging stride.

“Little Billee!” Patty cried, jumping up and holding out both hands. “Wherever did you descend from?”

“Didn’t descend; came up. Up from the South, at break of day,—Barnegat, to be exact. How do you do, Mrs. Fairfield? How are you, sir?”

Farnsworth’s kindly, breezy manner, condoned his lack of conventional formality, and with an easy grace, he disposed his big bulk in a deep and roomy wicker porch chair.

“And how’s the Giddy Butterfly?” he said, turning to Patty. “Still making two smiles grow where one was before? Still breaking hearts and binding them up again?”

“Yes,” and she dimpled at him. “And I have a brand-new one to break this afternoon. Isn’t that fine?”

“Fine for the fortunate owner of the heart, yes. Any man worthy of the name would rather have his heart broken by Patty Fairfield than—than—to die in a better land!”

“Hobson’s choice,” said Mr. Fairfield, drily. “Are you here for a time, Farnsworth? Glad to have you stay with us.”

“Thank you, sir, but I’m on the wing. I expected to spend the holiday properly, fishing at Barnegat. But a hurry-up telegram calls me up to Maine, instanter. I just dropped off here over one train, to catch a glimpse of Little Sunshine, and make sure she’s behaving herself.”

“I’m a Angel,” declared Patty, with a heavenward gaze. “And, Bill, what do you think! I was just saying I wanted to elope. Now, here you are! Why don’t I elope with you?”

“If it must be some one, it might as well be me,” returned Farnsworth, gravely; “have you a rope ladder handy?”

“Always keep one on hand,” returned Patty, gaily. “When do we start?”

“Right away, now, if you’re going with me,” and Bill laughed as Patty sat up straight and tied her sweater sash and pretended to get ready to go.

“But this is the strange part,” he went on; “you all think I’m fooling, but I’m not! I do want to carry Patty off with me, on this very next train.”

“This is so sudden!” said Patty, still taking it as a joke.

“You keep still a minute, Milady, and let me explain to your elders and betters.” Patty pouted at this, but Bill went on. “You see, Mr. Fairfield, I’m involved in some big business transactions, which, not to go into details, have made it necessary for me to become the owner of a large hotel up in Maine,—in the lake region.”

“I thought all Maine was lakey,” put in Patty.

“Well, this is a smallish lake, not far from Poland Spring. And it’s a big hotel, and it’s to close tomorrow, and all the guests will leave then. And I’ve got to go up there and look after it.”

“How did you happen to acquire this white elephant?” asked Fred Fairfield, greatly interested.

“Had to take it for a debt. Man couldn’t pay,—lost his money in war stocks.—I’ll tell you all about it while Patty’s getting her bag packed.”

“What do you mean?” cried Nan, seeing Farnsworth’s apparent sincerity.

“Oh, Lord, I forgot I haven’t told you yet! Well, as I have to go up there for a week or two, and as the hotel is all in running order, and as all the guests are going off in a hurry, and the servants are still there, I thought it would be fun to have a sort of a house party up there—”

“Gorgeous!” cried Patty, clapping her hands, “Who’s going, Bill?”

“That’s the rub! I haven’t asked anybody yet, and I doubt if I can get many at this time of year.”

“Haven’t asked anybody! I thought you had planned this house party!”

“Well, you see, I just got the telegram last night, and it was on the train coming up here this morning that I planned it—so the plans aren’t—aren’t entirely completed as yet.”

“Oh, you fraud! You made it all up on the spur of the moment——”

“Yes’m, I did. But what a spur the moment is! Now, see here, it’s clear sailing. We can get the Kenerleys and they’ll be the chaperons. Now, all we have to do, is to corral a few guests. You and I are two. How about Mona Galbraith?”

“She’d go if she could,” said Patty, “but she’s having a party this afternoon. Chick Channing is over there.”

“Chick Channing! Is he really? Well! Well! I haven’t seen that boy for years. We must make them come. And Daisy? Is she there?”

“Yet, but don’t get too many girls——”

“Don’t be alarmed, you little man-eater, you! The Farringtons will go, maybe; and Kit Cameron and his pretty cousin. Oh, I’ve a list of possibles, and we’ll get enough for a jolly little crowd. You’ve no objections, have you?” and Farnsworth looked anxiously at the elder Fairfields.

“N-no,” began Nan, “but it isn’t all clear to me yet. Suppose the Kenerleys can’t go?”

“That puts the whole plant out of commission. Unless,—oh, by Jove! wouldn’t you two go? That would be fine!”

But Mr. Fairfield and Nan refused to be drawn into any such crazy scheme. It was all right for young people, they said, but not for a comfort-loving, middle-aged pair.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Farnsworth, after a moment’s thought. “I’ll get the Kens on the long distance, and find out for sure. Meantime, Butterfly, you be packing a few feathers, for sumpum tells me Adele will go, anyway, whether old Jim does or not.”

“Might as well throw some things in a suitcase I s’pose,” said Patty; “it’s better to be ready and not go than to go and not be ready.”

After a long session at the telephone, Bill announced a triumphant success. The Kenerleys would be glad to go. Moreover, Adele would meet Patty and Bill in New York that very day in time for a late luncheon. Then they would get the Farringtons and the others by telephone. Then Patty would go home with Adele for the night, and they would all go to Maine the next day.

“You see it’s very simple,” said Bill, with such an ingenuous smile that Nan went over to his side at once.

“Of course it is,” she agreed. “It’s simply lovely! And Patty wanted to get away from the giddy whirl down here. She’ll have the time of her life!”

But Mr. Fairfield was not so sure. “I think it’s a wild goose chase,” he said. “What sort of a place are you going to? You don’t know! What sort of service and creature comforts? You don’t know! What will you get to eat? You don’t know! That’s a nice sort of outlook, I must say!”

“Oh, easy now, sir. It isn’t as bad as all that. I’ve had rather definite and detailed reports, and if it weren’t all comfy and certain, I wouldn’t take Patty up there. It’s a Lark, you see, a Lark,—and I’m sure we’ll get a lot of fun out of it. And, incidentally, I know it’s a fine section of country,—healthful, invigourating, and all that. And the house is a modern up-to-date hotel. They always close soon after Labour Day, but this year, owing to circumstances, it’s the very day after. That’s where the fun comes in, having a whole hotel all to ourselves. But we must be getting on. The train leaves in twenty minutes.”

“I’m all ready,” said Patty, as she re-appeared, miraculously transformed into a lady garbed for travelling. A silk pongee coat protected her gown and a small hat and veil completed a smart costume.

“I don’t altogether like it——” began Mr. Fairfield, as they got into the motor to go to the train.

“Run along, Patty,” said Nan. “I’ll see to it that he does like it, before you leave the station. Going to Mona’s?”

“Yes, just for a minute. You see her as soon as we’re gone, and tell her all about it. We can only say the barest facts.”

They flew off, Patty’s veil streaming behind, until she drew it in and tied it round her neck.

At Red Chimneys, several young people were playing tennis, but Patty called Mona to her and told her briefly of the plan.

“Glorious!” cried Mona. “If it were not for that old Tea, we could go right along now. But we’ll come tomorrow. Where shall we meet you?”

Quickly Farnsworth told her, and then turned to see his old friend, Channing.

“Chick, old boy!” he cried. “My, but it’s good to see you again!”

Channing was presented to Patty, who looked at him in amazement. He was the biggest man she had ever seen, even taller than Bill Farnsworth. He looked enormously strong, and when he smiled, his large mouth parted to show two rows of big, white, even teeth, that somehow made Patty feel like Red Ridinghood before the wolf. But there was little time for getting acquainted, for it was almost train time.

A few words between the two men as to meeting next day, and then the motor flew to the station.

And only just in time, for though Bill handed Patty on to the steps with care, he had to scramble up himself as the train was about to start.

“How do you like eloping?” he said, smilingly, as they rolled away.

“Fine,” said Patty, dimpling, “but must it always be done in quite such a hurry?”

“Not always; next time we’ll take it easier. Now, let’s make a list of our house guests.”

Farnsworth took out a notebook and pencil, and they suggested various names, some of which they decided for and some against.

At last Patty said, in an assured tone, “And Phil Van Reypen.”

“Not on your life!” exclaimed Bill. “If he goes I don’t!”

“Why, Little Billee, we couldn’t have the party at all without you!”

“Then you’ll have it without him! See?”

Patty pouted. “I don’t see why. He’s an awfully nice man, I think.”

“Oh, you do, do you? Why don’t you stay home, then, and have him down at the seashore to visit you?”

“Oh, that wouldn’t be half as much fun. But up there is that lovely place, all woodsy and lakey and sunsetty, I could have a splendid time, if I had all my friends around me.” Patty’s sweet face looked very wistful, and Farnsworth scanned it closely.

“Does it mean so much as that to you, Patty? If it does, you shall have him invited.”

“Oh, I don’t care. It’s your party, do just as you like.”

“Because it’s my party, I want to do just as you like.” Bill spoke very kindly, and Patty rewarded him with a flash of her blue eyes, and the subject was dropped.

CHAPTER II

THE HOTEL

“This is a little like a real eloping, isn’t it?” and Bill gave Patty’s suitcase to a porter, whom they followed across the big Pennsylvania station in New York.

“A very little,” said Patty, shaking her head. “You see it lacks the thrill of a real out-and-out elopement, because people know about it. An elopement, to be any good, must be a secret. If ever I get married, I’m going to elope, that’s one thing certain!”

“Why, Patty, how unlike you! I thought you’d want a flubdub wedding with forty-’leven bridesmaids and all the rest of it.”

“Oh, I s’pect I shall when the time comes. I often change my mind, you know.”

“You bet you do! You change it oftener than you make it up!”

“Why, I couldn’t——” began Patty, and just then they reached the taxicab rank, and Bill put Patty into a car.

They went to the Waldorf, where they were to meet the Kenerleys, and found that Jim and Adele had just arrived.

“What a perfect scheme!” exclaimed Adele, as soon as greetings had been exchanged. “Who all are going?”

“Let us go to luncheon,” said Bill, “and then we can thrash out things. I reserved a table—ah, here we are,” as the head waiter recognised the big Westerner.

“I love to go round with Bill,” said Patty, “he always has everything ready, and no fuss about it.”

“He sure does,” said Jim Kenerley, in hearty appreciation. “But the way he scoots across the country and back, every other day or two, keeps him in trim. He lives on the jump.”

“I do,” agreed Farnsworth. “But some day I hope to arrange matters so I can stay in the same place twice running.”

Laughing at this sally, they took their places at the table, which Bill’s foresight had caused to be decorated with a low mound of white asters and maidenhair fern.

“How pretty!” cried Patty. “I hate a tall decoration,—this is just right to talk over. Now, let’s talk.”

And talk they did.

“I just flew off,” Patty declared, as she told Adele about it. “Nan’s going to pack a trunk and send it, when she knows we’re truly there. I think she feared the plan would fizzle out.”

“Indeed it won’t,” Bill assured them. “We’ve got the nucleus of our party here, and if we can’t get any more, we can go it alone.”

But it was by no means difficult to get the others. Some few whom they asked were out of town, but they responded to long distance calls, and most of them accepted the unusual invitation.

Farnsworth had a table telephone brought, and as fast as they could ring them up, they asked their guests.

The two Farringtons were glad to go; Marie Homer and Kit Cameron jumped at the chance. Mona and Daisy, with Chick Channing, would come up from the shore the next day, and that made eleven.

“Van Reypen?” asked Kenerley, as they sought for some one to fill out the dozen.

“Up to Patty,” said Bill, glancing at her.

“No,” and Patty shook her golden head, slowly; “no, don’t let’s ask Phil this time.”

“Why not?” said Adele in astonishment. “I thought you liked him.”

“I do; Phil’s a dear. But I just don’t want him on this picnic. Besides, he’s probably out of town. And likely he wouldn’t care to go.”

“Reasons enough,” said Farnsworth, briefly. “Cross off Van Reypen. Now, who for our last man?”

“Peyton,” said Jim. “Bob Peyton would love to go, and he’s a good all-’round chap. How’s that, Bill?”

“All right, Patty?” and Bill looked inquiringly at her.

“Yes, indeed. Mr. Peyton’s a jolly man. Do you think he’d go, Adele?”

“Like a shot!” Kenerley replied, for his wife. “Bob’s rather gone on Patty, if you know what I mean.”

“Who isn’t gone on Patty?” returned Farnsworth. “Well, that’s a round dozen. Enough!”

“Plenty,” Patty decreed. And then the talk turned to matters of trains and meetings and luggage.

“I’ll arrange everything for the picnic,” said Bill. “You girls see about your clothes and that’s all you need bother about. You’ll want warmish togs, it gets cool up there after sundown. Remember, it’s Maine!”

Patty and Adele at once began to discuss what to take, and Patty made a list to send to Nan for immediate shipment.

“What an enormous piece of humanity that Chicky is!” said Patty, suddenly remembering the stranger. “Do you know him, Jim?”

“Yes; known him for years. He’s true blue, every inch of him. Don’t you like him, Patty?”

“Can’t say yet. I only saw him half a jiffy. But, yes, I’m sure I shall like him. Bill says he’s salt of the earth.”

“He’s all of that. And maybe a little pepper, as well. But you and old Chick will be chums, I promise you. Now we’ll pack you two girls off to Fern Falls, and I’ll do a few man’s size errands, and Bill, here, will make his will and dispose of his estate, before going off into the wilderness with a horde of wild Indians. Then tomorrow, he’ll pick us up at Fern Falls, and we’ll all go on our way rejoicing.”

“Not so fast,” said Adele, after Jim finished his speech. “You two men can go where you like, Patty and I will take a taxi, and do some last fond lingering bits of shopping, before we go home. Don’t you s’pose we want some shoes and veils and——”

“Sealing-wax?” asked Farnsworth, laughing. “All right, you ladies go and buy your millinery, and I’ll see you again tomorrow on the train.”

As might have been expected, with such capable management, everything went on smoothly, and it was a clear, bright afternoon when they completed the last stage of their journey, and the train from Portland set them down at their destination.

Not quite at their destination, however, for motorbuses were in waiting to take them to the hotel itself.

For more than an hour they bumped or glided over the varying roads, now through woods, and now through clearing.

At last, a vista suddenly opened before them, and they saw a most picturesque lake, its dark waters touched here and there by the setting sun. It was bordered by towering pines and spruces, and purple hills rose in the distance.

“Stunning!” cried Patty, standing up in the car to see better. “I never saw such a theatrical lake. It’s like grand opera! Or like the castled crag of Drachenfels, whatever that is.”

“I used to recite that at school,” observed Chick Channing; “so it must be all right, whatever it is.”

And then, as they turned a corner, the hotel itself appeared in sight. An enormous structure, not far from the lake, and set in a mass of brilliant salvias and other autumn flowers and surrounded by well-kept velvety greensward.

“What a peach of a hotel!” and Patty’s eyes danced with enthusiasm and admiration. “All for us, Little Billee?”

“All for we! Room enough?”

“I should say so! I’m going to have a suite,—maybe two suites.”

“Everybody can have all the rooms he wants, and then some. I believe there are about five hundred——”

“What?” cried Daisy Dow, “five hundred! I shall have a dozen at least. What fun!”

The cars rolled up to the main entrance. Doormen, porters, and hallboys appeared, and the laughing crowd trooped merrily up the steps.

“I never had such a lark!” declared Mona. “Oh, I’ve seen hotels as big,—even bigger,—but never had one all to myself, so to speak. Isn’t it just like Big Bill to get up this picnic!”

Marie Homer looked a little scared. The vastness of the place seemed to awe her.

“Chr’up, Marie,” laughed her cousin, Kit Cameron. “You don’t have to use any more rooms than you want. How shall we pick our quarters, Farnsworth?”

“Well, let me see. Mr. and Mrs. Kenerley must select their rooms first. Then the ladies of the party; and, if there are any rooms left after that, we fellows will bunk in ’em.”

So, followed by the whole laughing troop, Adele and Jim chose their apartments. They selected two elaborate suites on the second floor, for Bill told them that there were scores of servants, and they were better off if they had work to do.

“Isn’t it heavenly?” sighed Elise Farrington, dropping for a moment on a cushioned window-seat, in Adele’s sitting-room, and gazing at the beautiful view. “I want my rooms on this side of the house, too.”

“All the girls on this side,” decreed Adele, “and all the men on the other. Or, if the men want a lake view, they can go up on the next floor. If I have to comfort you girls, when you’re weeping with homesickness, I want you near by. Marie, you’re most addicted to nostalgia, I recommend you take this suite next to mine.”

So Marie was installed in a lovely apartment, next Adele’s and with practically the same view of the lake and hills.

Daisy’s came next, then Mona’s, and Patty’s last. This brought Patty at the other end of the long house, and just suited her. “For,” she said, “there’s a balcony to this suite, and if I feel romantic, I can come out here and bay the moon.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort, young woman,” said Adele, severely. “You do that moon-baying act, and you’ll be kidnapped again.”

“No, thank you,” and Patty shuddered, “I’ve had quite enough of that!”

The rooms were beautifully furnished, in good taste and harmonious colourings. The hotel had been planned on an elaborate scale, but for some reason, probably connected with the management, had not been successful in this, its first season; and in swinging a business deal of some big lumber tracts in that vicinity, it had fallen into Farnsworth’s hands. He had no intention of keeping it, but intended to sell it to advantage. But at present, it was his own property and he had conceived the whim of this large-sized picnic.

“Boom! Boom!” sounded Channing’s deep bass voice in the hall. “That’s the dressing-gong, people. Dinner in half an hour. No full dress tonight. Just a fresh blouse and a flower in your hair, girls.”

“Isn’t he great?” said Patty to Mona, as they responded through their closed doors.

But the girls’ suites of rooms could all be made to communicate, and they ran back and forth without using the main hall.

“He is,” agreed Mona, who was brushing her hair at Patty’s dressing-table. “And the more you see of him, the better you’ll like him. He’s shy at first.”

“Shy! That great, big thing shy?”

“Yes; he tries to conceal it, but he is. Not with men, you know,—but afraid of girls. Don’t tease him, Patty.”

“Me tease him!” and Patty looked like an injured saint. “I’m going to be a Fairy Godmother to him. I’ll take care of him and shield him from you hoydens, with your wiles. Now, go to your own rooms, Mona. I should think, with half a dozen perfectly good rooms of your own, you might let me have mine.”

“I can’t bear to leave you, Patty. You’re not much to look at,—I know,—but somehow I forget your plainness, when——”

Mona dodged a powder-puff that Patty threw at her, and ran away to her own rooms.

Half an hour later, Patty went slowly down the grand staircase.

Adele had decreed no evening dress that first night, so Patty wore a little afternoon frock of flowered Dresden silk. It was simply made, with a full skirt and many little flounces, and yellowed lace ruffles fell away from her pretty throat and soft dimpled arms. Its pale colouring and crisp frilliness suited well her dainty type, and she looked a picture as she stood for a moment halfway down the stairs.

“Well, if you aren’t a sight for gods and little fishes!” exclaimed a deep voice, and Patty saw Chickering Channing gazing at her from the hall below. “Come on down,—let me eat you.”

As Patty reached the last step, he grasped her lightly with his two hands and swung her to the floor beside him.

“Well!” exclaimed Patty, decidedly taken aback at this performance. “Will you wait a minute while I revise my estimate of you?”

“For better or worse?”

“That sounds like something—I can’t think what—Declaration of Independence, I guess.”

“Wrong! It’s from the Declaration of Dependence. But why revise?”

“Oh, I’ve ticketed you all wrong! Mona said you were shy! Shy!”

“Methinks the roguish Mona was guying you! Shyness is not my strong point. But, if you prefer it should be, I’ll cultivate it till I can shy with the best of them. Would you like me better shy?”

“Indeed I should, if only to save me the trouble of that revision.”

“Shy it is, then.” Whereupon Mr. Channing began to fidget and stand on one foot, then the other, and even managed to blush, as he stammered out, “I s-say, Miss F-Fairfield,——”

It was such a perfect, yet not overdone burlesque of an embarrassed youth, that Patty broke into peals of laughter.

“Don’t!” she cried. “Be yourself, whatever it is. I can’t revise back and forth every two minutes! I say, Mr. Chickering Channing, you’re going to be great fun, aren’t you?”

“Bid me to live and I will live, your Funnyman to be. Whatever you desire, I’m it. So you see, I am a nice, handy man to have in the house.”

“Indeed you are. I foresee we shall be friends. But what can I call you? That whole title, as I just used it, is too long,—even for this big house.”

“You know what the rest call me.”

Patty pouted a little. “I never call people what other people call them.”

“Oh, Lord, more trouble!” and Chick rolled his eyes as if in despair. “Well, choose a name for yourself——”

“No, I want one for you!”

“Oh, what a funny young miss! Well, choose, but don’t be all night about it. And I warn you if I don’t like it, I won’t let you use it.”

“‘Shy!’ Oh, my!” murmured Patty. “Well, I shall call you Chickadee, whether you like it or not.”

“Oh, I like it,—I love it! But, nearly as many people call me that as Chick!”

“And I thought it was original with me! All right, I’ll think up another, and I shan’t speak to you again until I’ve thought of it.”

Nonchalantly turning aside, Patty walked across the great hall to where a few of the others had already gathered.

“Pretty Patty,” said Kit Cameron, in his wheedling way; “wilt thou stroll with me, after dinner, through the moonlight?”