Produced by Mardi Desjardins, Waverley Dovey & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net Patty in the City BY CAROLYN WELLS AUTHOR OF TWO LITTLE WOMEN SERIES, THE MARJORIE SERIES, ETC. [Illustration] GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY DODD, MEAD & COMPANY _All rights reserved_ PRINTED IN U.S.A. _To_ _Dorothy Esterbrook_ CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I PLANS 1 II A LAST MEETING 13 III A NEW HOME 25 IV LORRAINE 37 V A NEW SCHOOL 49 VI THE REASON WHY 61 VII SOME NEW FRIENDS 73 VIII A TEA-PARTY 85 IX HILDA 97 X GRIGS 109 XI EXPERIENCES 121 XII A VISIT TO THE HOSPITAL 133 XIII ELISE 144 XIV THE CASINO 156 XV A PLEASANT SATURDAY 168 XVI A CAPABLE COOK 180 XVII LORRAINEâS ENDEAVOR 192 XVIII THE CIRCUS PARTY 204 XIX THEMES 216 XX TWO CONFIDENTIAL INTERVIEWS 228 XXI THE CINDERELLA PARTY 241 XXII âITâ 252 XXIII CHRISTMAS 263 Patty in the City CHAPTER I PLANS It was the third week in September when the Fairfields left the seashore and returned to their Vernondale home. âNow, my child,â said Mr. Fairfield, as they sat on the veranda after dinner, âI will unfold to you my plans for the coming winter, and you may accept, or reject, or amend them as you please.â âProceed,â said Patty, settling herself comfortably in her wicker chair; âI feel in an amiable mood this evening, and will probably agree to anything you may suggest.â âIâve been thinking for some time,â went on her father, âthat I donât want to spend the coming winter in Vernondale. I would much rather be in New York.â âReason number oneâNan,â said Patty, checking it off on her forefinger and smiling at her father. âYes,â he responded, with an answering smile, âshe is reason number one, but there are others.â To readers who are unfamiliar with Pattyâs earlier history we may say right here that her mother had died when Patty was but three years old. At present she lived with her father in their little home in Vernondale, an establishment of which Patty greatly prided herself on her management. Recently Mr. Fairfield had become engaged to Miss Nan Allen, a young lady who lived in Philadelphia, and who was a dear friend of Pattyâs. âYou know,â Mr. Fairfield went on, âthis Vernondale house was only an experiment, and although it has proved successful in its own way, I want to try another experiment of a winter in the city. As you so wisely discern, it is partly for the sake of being nearer to Nan. The Allens will spend part of the winter in New York, and, too, Philadelphia is more easily accessible from there than from here. We shall not be married until spring, and so your absolute monarchy will extend through the winter, and you can then abdicate in favor of the new queen.â âAnd Iâll be glad enough to do it,â cried Patty; âit isnât abdication at all; or if it is, Iâm glad of it. Iâm perfectly delighted that youâre going to marry Nan, and though it does seem ridiculous to have one of my own friends for a stepmother, yet sheâs six years older than I am, and if she wants to rule me with a rod of iron, she may.â âI fancy there wonât be much stepmothering about it; Iâm afraid youâll be two refractory children, and Iâll have to take care of you both.â âI donât know about that,â said Patty, laughing. âYouâve become so absurdly young yourself of late that I think I shall have to take care of you two. But tell me some more about your New York plans. Shall we have a house of our own?â âNo; I think notâthis winter. Although you are all that is admirable by way of a housekeeper, Iâve come to the conclusion that itâs too much responsibility for you; and of course, would be much more so in the city. So I think weâll take a suite of rooms in some nice apartment hotel. This, you see, will make it more convenient for me in regard to my business; for Iâm quite ready to confess that Iâm tired of enjoying a commuterâs privileges. From our city home I could probably reach my office in less than half an hour, while from here it takes me fully an hour and a half, besides the discomforts of the railroad and ferry trip.â âThat would be nice,â said Patty thoughtfully; âthen we wouldnât have to have breakfast so early, and I wouldnât have to wait for you so long at night.â âAnother thing,â went on her father, âis your own education. I want you to have a year or two at some good school in the city, and I do not want you to go back and forth every day from here. And you ought to take singing lessons, and there are lots of things you ought to learn. During your rather migratory life of the past two years your education has really been neglected, and it wonât do. Youâre growing up, to be sure, but youâre still a schoolgirl, and must remain one for a couple of years more at least. When we take Nan into the family she can look after the housekeeping, and so you will be free to attend to your studies; but this winter, as I say, you must not have household cares to interfere. And so a few rooms in some nice hotel will make a home for us that shall be cosey and pleasant, and yet not fill your life with the cares and duties of housekeeping.â âAll right, papa,â said Patty, âI think it will be lovely, and Iâm ready to go, right straight off. Of course Iâm sorry to leave the Vernondale girls, and theyâll be as mad as hops at me for going; but I do love the city, and I think weâll have a beautiful time. When shall we start?â âNot to-night,â said Mr. Fairfield, smiling at his impetuous daughter; âthere are some trifling details to be settled first. You see, youâre a country girl, my child, and deplorably ignorant of city ways. Has it occurred to you that it would hardly do for you and me to live alone in a city hotel? For I must necessarily be down at my office all day, and, too, I shall probably make occasional trips to Philadelphia. At such times you would be alone in our apartment, which is, of course, out of the question. Have you anything to suggest?â âI never thought of that. I thought we could live together there just the same as we do here. Youâre always away all day.â âYes, but here there are the three servants to look after you. And, too, conventions are not quite the same in New York and Vernondale. I donât want a governess for you, for I want you to have the experiences of school life.â âI might have a maid,â said Patty, anxious to suggest something. âI might take Pansy.â âNo,â said her father, âthat isnât the kind of person you require. The third person in our home must be a lady who can look after you and advise you, and occasionally go about with you.â âWell then, marry Nan right away, and let her do all this.â âThat would do admirably, but there is one obstacle. I laid that plan before Nan herself, and she positively refused to come and be one of us before next spring.â âWell, what _can_ we do?â asked Patty. âWhy, I think this the solution of the problem: Let us take Grandma Elliott to spend the winter with us.â âJust the thing!â exclaimed Patty, clapping her hands; âsheâs the very one! she loves to live in the city and sheâs lived there so much she knows all about it, and Iâm sure sheâd be glad to go.â âYes, she would be just the right one; sheâs a very wise lady, and although sheâs perhaps sixty years old, she is as active and energetic as many much younger women. She is quite conversant with the proprieties, and would know even better than I just what you can and canât do. For you must know, Patty girl, that your life in New York will be more restricted in many ways than it is here. There are certain rules that must be observed, and while I want you to have a good time and a happy time, yet you must realise that you are still only a schoolgirl, and must conduct yourself as such.â âCanât I go to anything except school, papa?â asked Patty, looking a little dismayed. âWell, perhaps on nice afternoons I might take you for a walk around the block,â said her father, laughing at her anxious face. âBut suppose we go over and see what Grandma Elliott has to say about it.â âAll right,â said Patty, âbut you must protect me from Marianâs ferocity. Sheâll be as mad as a raging lion.â When the question of the Fairfieldsâ permanent residence was under discussion a year earlier, Grandma Elliott was perhaps the only one in favour of their living in New York. The younger Mrs. Elliott, who was Mr. Fairfieldâs sister, had most decidedly been of the opinion that a home in the small town of Vernondale was in every way better adapted to Pattyâs welfare. Pattyâs cousins had vociferously agreed to this, and the result was that Mr. Fairfield had taken a house in Vernondale for a year. Patty had proved a most satisfactory little housekeeper, for she had a real talent for household management, but even Aunt Alice had at last come to agree with Mr. Fairfield that the responsibilities were rather heavy for a schoolgirl. As Patty had anticipated, the Elliott children, and especially Marian, received the news with expressions of emphatic disapproval. âI _knew_ youâd do it!â wailed Marian, âbut I think itâs perfectly horrid, and Iâll never forgive you as long as I live! I donât _want_ you to go away from Vernondale, and you wonât like it a bit in New York, I know you wonât. You canât do anything at all; you canât go out into the street without a _chaperon_, and a maid, and two policemen! And whatever will the Tea Club do without you?â âIâll have all the Tea Club come in to a meeting at my house,â said Patty, anxious to pacify her cousin. âWe wonât come! weâll none of us ever speak to you again! weâll cross your name off the books and forget that you ever existed!â It was so seldom that the gentle Marian became excited over anything that Patty felt really sorry, and tried her best to put the matter in its most attractive light. âDonât talk like that, Marian,â she said; âpapa has decided that we are to go, and so thereâs no use in discussing that part of it. Now the thing to do is to find the bright side and look on that.â This was Patty Fairfieldâs philosophy in a nutshell. All her life she had not only unquestioningly accepted the inevitable, but had immediately found its bright side and ignored all others. This was partly the cause and partly the effect of her bright sunshiny disposition and her uniformly happy and contented frame of mind. âJust think, Marian,â she went on, âyou can come to see me and we can have lots of fun. Weâll have all the girls come over while youâre there, and it will be jolly to have a Tea Club meeting in a hotel.â âYes, that will be fun,â assented Marian, âbut after the meeting weâll all have to come home and leave you there. I suppose Iâm selfish, but I donât care! I donât _want_ you to go away from Vernondale, Patty Fairfield, and I think youâre a mean old thing to go!â It seemed impossible to do anything with Marian in her present mood, so Patty turned to Aunt Alice for sympathy. âI feel quite as sorry to have you go as Marian does,â said Mrs. Elliott, looking lovingly at her niece, âthough I donât express myself in such violent language. But Brother Fred has been talking to me and he has convinced me that it is a good plan in many ways. So I am going to give you up bravely, and I think that after a while Marian will be able to face the matter more calmly.â âI donât think itâs half bad,â broke in Frank Elliott; âof course we shall miss Patty like the dickens, but I shall spend much of my time visiting her in New York.â âDo,â said Patty, delighted at this unlooked-for support; âcome just as often as you like and Iâll guarantee that youâll have a good time.â Then Mr. Fairfield proposed his plan of taking Grandma Elliott to spend the winter with them in the city. Grandmaâs eyes beamed with delight as she listened, for the old lady was urban in her tastes and had lived far the greater part of her life in New York. Aunt Alice and Uncle Charlie heartily approved of this arrangement. âWe shall miss you dreadfully,â said Mr. Elliott to his mother, âbut we shall let you go cheerfully, for I well know how much you will enjoy it.â But Marian set up another howl. âItâs bad enough to have Patty go,â she said, âbut to have Grandma go, too, is terrible. I suppose youâll take mother and little Gilbert, as well.â âMarian, youâre a goose!â said Patty, laughing. âIf you donât stop talking like that, Iâll take _you_ along and keep you there all winter.â âI donât want to do that,â said Marian, âbut I donât want you to go either. I know one thing, thoughâafter youâve been there a week youâll be so disgusted youâll come trailing back again.â âAnd after youâve visited me for a week youâll be so enchanted that you wonât want to come trailing back,â said Patty, laughing at her cousinâs woe-begone expression. âWhen are you going?â asked Marian in a tone of final resignation. âVery soon,â said Mr. Fairfield, âfor I want to get this ignorant daughter of mine into school as quickly as possible. Indeed, we shall go as soon as Grandma Elliott is ready to accompany us.â âYou wonât have to wait long for me,â said Grandma; âI shall be all ready by the time you have found your house.â CHAPTER II A LAST MEETING Patty and her father looked at several apartments before they found one which seemed satisfactory in every way. It was necessary that it should be near the school Patty was to attend, and also conveniently located with a view to Mr. Fairfieldâs daily trips downtown. Besides this, Mr. Fairfield was particular about the atmosphere of the hotel. Some they looked into seemed to Patty like gorgeous glittering palaces, with decorations so rich and ornate as to be almost barbaric. These Mr. Fairfield came out of as rapidly as he went in, and more than once Patty cast a longing backward glance at the marble floors and gilded frescoes which her father seemed to scorn. On the other hand, Mr. Fairfield was equally ill-pleased with a house which was unattractive in appearance, or whose furnishings were not tasteful. Patty almost began to think that her father was too fastidious, and would never be able to find a place that would exactly suit him. However, the moment they stepped inside of a certain apartment hotel named The Wilberforce, Mr. Fairfieldâs face showed an expression of satisfaction, which immediately convinced Patty that they had struck the right trail at last. And so it proved, for after looking into several suites of rooms then vacant, Mr. Fairfield told Patty that if she could feel contented to take up her abode there, he thought he could. Patty willingly agreed, for she, too, liked The Wilberforce from the first. The hotel faced Central Park, and though not among the largest in the city, it was more attractively planned than any of the others they had looked at. The apartment they liked best was a corner one with windows looking toward the east and south. The large corner room had a beautiful bay window, and was so light and sunny that Patty declared it should be their library. âLibrary, sitting-room and general living-room,â said her father, laughing; âyou know, Puss, you canât have as many rooms at your disposal in the city as you have in Vernondale. But weâll have all our books and favourite belongings in this room, and Iâm sure we can make it very comfortable. Then this smaller room next will be a more formal reception room for casual callers.â There were four bedrooms, and Mr. Fairfield insisted that the two sunniest and pleasantest ones should be assigned to Patty and Grandma Elliott. The other two, whose windows opened on an airshaft instead of on the street, were to be Mr. Fairfieldâs bedroom and a guest-room. The whole apartment was very prettily furnished in good taste, and entirely without that lavish use of bright colours which so often characterises a hotel. The library was in green and the little reception-room in pale blue. Pattyâs own room was daintily done up in pink, and though perhaps not just the colour she would have chosen, it was so fresh and pretty that she expressed herself perfectly satisfied. Of course, everything in the way of chairs and tables was amply provided, but the Fairfields proposed to bring in a quantity of their own furniture, rugs, pictures and books. Having decided on the apartment, Mr. Fairfield drew a plan of it so that when they returned home they might better decide what pieces of furniture could be accommodated. Patty flew around from room to room in great delight. âIâm so used to changing my home,â she said, âthat I really feel quite at home in this apartment already. This library is going to be the loveliest room in the world. You can have your desk there, and I can have my little desk here, and weâll have our big library table in the middle, just as it is at home. Then weâll have Grandmaâs little work-table by this window. This big fireplace is perfectly fascinating and we can bring our brass andirons and fireset. Theyâre a lot prettier than these old black iron things. And we can bring a book-case or two, canât we, papa?â âYou can bring whatever you like, Chicken; but I wouldnât advise carting in many of those heavy things at first, until weâre sure we like the place well enough to stay all winter. It certainly looks attractive, and it has been highly recommended to me, but after all it may prove to have serious disadvantages. So at first weâll just bring our desks, and some books and pictures, and a few little trinkets to prettify the rooms, and then later on, if we like it, we can run back to Vernondale for a few more things.â âYes, that is best, papa,â said Patty; âyou always do know what is best. And now how soon do you suppose we can come in to stay?â âI think weâll move next Saturday. I can take a whole holiday that day, and get you and Grandma safely established here.â So eager was Patty to select and pack up the things she wanted to take to the city that she could scarcely wait to get back to Vernondale. It had been a tiresome day, but as soon as she reached home she quite forgot her fatigue in the fun of making her selections. Her favourite pictures were taken from the walls and stood in the hall ready to be packed. All of her tea-things, a small selection of bric-a-bric, and a large box of books were added. Then Patty packed her own trunk and her fatherâs. Mr. Fairfield looked after the heavier matters, such as rugs and chairs and the two desks and Grandmaâs little work-table. Altogether, it seemed like a regular moving, and Marian, who came over in the midst of the excitement, sat down on the box of books and burst into tears. âMarian,â said Patty, almost crying herself, âif you donât stop acting like that I donât know what I shall do. Iâm rapidly growing homesicker and homesicker, and now if you commence to weep all over the place I shall just go to pieces entirely.â âBut you _want_ to go away,â wailed Marian, between her sobs, âyou just _want_ to go, and thatâs the worst of it! If you _did_ cry youâd be nothing but an old hypocrite!â âI do want to go, but Iâm sorry to leave Vernondale, too. Donât you suppose Iâm fond of all you girls? Donât you suppose Iâll miss you like sixty? And donât you suppose itâs a heap worse for me to go away from you all than it is for you to have me go? Why, thereâs lots of you to cheer each other up, and thereâs only one of me. But whatâs the use of acting like this, anyway? Iâve got to go, and I might as well go laughing as crying. If _your_ father wanted you to go, youâd go, and _I_ wouldnât do all I could to make it harder for you by crying from morning to night.â The logic of these remarks seemed to impress Marian, for she stopped crying, and said: âI suppose I am a horrid old thing to act so, and I am going to stop, at least until after youâre gone, and then Iâm going to cry all I want to.â âDo,â said Patty, âhave a real good time and cry all day, and every day, if you like. But now come on and help me pack my photographs.â Marian was as good as her word. She cried no more, and though her demeanour was not exactly hilarious, she ceased wearing a reproachful air, and went around helping Patty with a loving good-will. The last few days before their departure Patty and Mr. Fairfield spent at the Elliottsâ home. The trunks and boxes had all been sent away, and Boxley Hall was shut up and securely barred and fastened. The servants had found other situations. Mancy was going to live at Miss Daggettâs, though the good-natured coloured woman was not all sure of her ability to stay with that sharp-tongued lady. Pansy was to live with the Elliotts, and Mr. Fairfield had promised her that if under his sisterâs tuition she became a competent waitress she should come the next year to live in the city house of the new Mrs. Fairfield. Pansy was delighted at this prospect, for she had become devotedly attached to the Fairfields, and, moreover, was a great admirer of the lovely Miss Allen. The day before Patty was to leave Vernondale the Tea Club had a farewell meeting at Marianâs. âYou know, Patty,â said Elsie Morris, âthat youâll still have to be president of the Club. We utterly refuse to let anyone else have that position.â âBut thatâs perfectly silly,â protested Patty; âit would be much more sensible for me to be an honourable or honorary ex-president, and you put in somebody else to rule the Club this winter.â âPooh,â said Ethel Holmes, âdonât flatter yourself you ruled this Club!â âNo,â said Patty, laughing, âor if I did rule them, they overruled me. Youâre a fractious lot, and itâs far from being an easy task to be your president. However, as I want you to have somebody to keep you straight during my absence, Iâm going to propose my cousin Marian for the office of president.â This proposal was most favourably received, and Marian was unanimously elected president of the Tea Club, until such time as Patty should return to Vernondale. For the girls, one and all, refused to admit that Patty was going away permanently. They chose to assume that she was merely going to New York for the winter, and implicitly believed that the summer months would see her again established at Boxley Hall. âAnd very likely we _shall_ return,â said Patty. âNobody can foretell what my father is going to do, and nobody can stop him when he once decides what he is going to do. I certainly never dreamed he was going to marry Nan, until he told me so himself.â âArenât you glad about it?â asked Helen Preston. âYes, indeed,â exclaimed Patty; âIâm as happy as can be about it. I just love Nan, and it will be just like having a sister. I wish theyâd get married right away, only then I suppose we wouldnât have Grandma Elliott with us this winter, and Iâd be sorry about that. Now remember, girls, just as soon as we get settled at The Wilberforce youâre all to come in some Saturday. Papa says not to come for tea, because it makes you so late getting home, but to come for luncheon, and heâll take us all to the matinÃ©e afterward.â There was a general chorus of glee at this, for the girls were well acquainted with the kind and genial Mr. Fairfield, and his invitation meant a delightful treat. âI do think your father is lovely,â said Polly Stevens, âand I think youâre going to have beautiful times in the city this winter. I really quite envy you.â âBut I wish you werenât going,â said Christine Converse; âI donât see how the Tea Club can get along at all without you.â âBut I shall often come out to the Tea Club meetings,â said Patty; âof course I shall often come out to Marianâs to stay a day or two, and if Iâm here on Saturday I can come to the Club, and whenever you have an evening entertainment Iâll come out for that.â âI hadnât thought of that,â said Marian, brightening a little; âand you can come out to our house for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and New Yearâs Day, and all the holidays, canât you?â âYes,â said Patty, smiling; âexcept the ones you come in to spend with me.â As this brighter outlook had greatly decreased Marianâs aspect of hopeless gloom, the girls all began to wax more merry, and soon they were all joking and laughing in true Tea Club style. Each one had brought a parting gift for Patty and the presentations were made with jesting speeches. Elsie Morris brought a well-filled court-plaster case, for, as she explained, Patty was sure to be knocked down and run over every day by automobiles and trolley cars, and the healing strips would prove beneficial. Laura Russell brought her a tiny fern growing in a flower pot, in order that she might have some green thing to remind her of the country. âOho,â said Ethel Holmes, âIâm going to give you a dozen green things to remind you of the country,â and Ethel produced her gift, which was nothing more nor less than a humorous sketch of the twelve girls of the Tea Club. Ethel was clever at drawing, and the group was well caricatured. Instead of drawing the faces, she had pasted in tiny photographs of the girlsâ features, and, moreover, had realistically bedecked their hats with tiny feathers and microscopic bows of real ribbon. Neckties and hair-ribbons were also pasted into place, until the whole affair was a most comical representation of the Club members. Patty was delighted and declared she would have this work of art framed and conspicuously hung in her new home. CHAPTER III A NEW HOME On Saturday morning the Fairfields and Grandma Elliott started for their New York home. Uncle Charlie went to town on the same train, and the rest of the Elliott family escorted the party to the station. Marian had determined not to cry when Patty went away, but it required such a desperate effort to carry out her resolution that she made a most pathetic picture. âChirk up, sis,â said Frank; âthe world isnât coming to an end. Iâll be a Patty to you.â âAnd a Grandmother, too?â asked Marian, smiling in spite of herself. âYes, and an Uncle Fred. Iâll be a whole family tree to you if youâll only smile a little, and brace up. You look like a dying rubber plant.â Marian did brighten up a little, and as the train rolled out of the station the last Patty saw of her cousin was a positive, if not very merry, smile of farewell. Following the process of thought usual to those starting off on a journey, Patty spent the first half of the trip to New York thinking about those she had left behind; thinking of her pleasant Vernondale home, her dear relatives, and the merry crowd of Tea Club girls. At first it seemed to her that no new scenes or new friends could ever make up for those she was leaving. But as she neared Jersey City and as she crossed the long ferry her thoughts turned forward to her new home in New York, and her anticipations began to seem bright and happy. Uncle Charlie parted from them at the ferry, and soon Patty and her large family, as she called it since the addition of Grandma Elliott, were in a cab driving uptown to The Wilberforce. Grandma Elliott was perhaps the most enthusiastic member of the party. That good lady was very fond of New York city, and had the effect of a patriot returning home after an enforced absence. When at last she was ushered into the pretty apartment at The Wilberforce, she was more delighted than ever. âMy dear Fred,â she exclaimed, âwhat beautiful rooms! So bright and sunny, and such a delightful outlook across the park. Iâm sure we shall be very happy here.â The rooms did look very attractive. The furniture sent from Vernondale had been unpacked and put in place, and now it only remained for Patty to arrange the smaller trifles that were to make the place distinctively home-like. To Pattyâs surprise they found awaiting them a large box of chrysanthemums addressed to Grandma, and a smaller box of carnations for Patty. These had been sent as a greeting of welcome from Mr. Hepworth. âHow kind it was of him to send them,â said Patty, as she arranged the flowers in tall glass vases; âweâll keep these beautiful chrysanthemums in the library and put the pink carnations in the reception-room. Now, Iâll put these brass candlesticks on the mantelâand, papa, I wish youâd wind that fussy French clock of yours, for I donât dare touch it.â âIndeed, youâd better not touch it, Miss Harum-scarum; that clock insists on being treated with the utmost deference and respect. Iâm afraid youâd smash it at the first winding.â âI dare say I should; I never can make a clock go. Now, Grandma, canât I help you with your unpacking?â The three worked with right good-will, and by noon nearly everything was in place. This was fortunate, for just as Patty flung herself down in an easy chair to rest, and to survey the results of her labours, callers were announced. These were Aunt Isabel St. Clair and Ethelyn. âFor goodnessâ sake!â exclaimed Patty, in dismay, âI donât want to see themâat least not just now.â âYou canât very well help seeing them,â said Grandma, âso you may as well look pleasant about it. You may show them up,â she added to the servant who had brought the cards. In a few moments Aunt Isabel and Ethelyn came bustling in. âHow do you do?â exclaimed Mrs. St. Clair, âhow perfectly lovely to have you here in town. And how delightful, Mrs. Elliott, that you can be here to take care of our Patricia.â Patty smiled at the name which no one ever called her except the St. Clair family, and Aunt Isabel chattered on. âYouâre looking well, Fred, and what lovely rooms you have; I shall spend a great deal of my time here, Iâm sure. I shall always drop in to luncheon when Iâm in town for the day shopping.â âSo shall I,â said Ethelyn, âand Iâm coming to stay a week at a time, maynât I, Patty?â âIâm not sure about that,â said Mr. Fairfield, smiling kindly, âfor you see Patty is going to be very busy this winter. Sheâs going to school, and I want her to study hard; and she is to take music lessons, so that really she will have little time to play.â âOh, are you going to school?â said Ethelyn, in a disappointed tone; âIâm not going any more. Mamma wanted me to, but I said I wouldnât. Iâm coming out this winter, and Iâm going to have smashing good times. Donât go to school, Patricia.â âPatty hasnât anything to say about it,â said Pattyâs father, smiling at his daughter. âI want to go, anyway,â said Patty; âI want to learn things, and, besides, I think sixteen is too young for a girl to come out.â âMuch too young,â said Grandma Elliott, decidedly; âPatty is in my charge this winter, and she is to be a schoolgirl and not a young lady in society.â Aunt Isabel sniffed a little, and looked at Mrs. Elliott through her _lorgnon_. But the elder lady bore the scrutiny calmly, and only said, âI hope Patty will be happy in spite of my restrictions.â âOh, of course she will; and I dare say you are quite right,â said Mrs. St. Clair, quickly, for she had no wish to offend Mrs. Elliott. âWhat school are you going to, my dear child?â âI selected her school,â said Mr. Fairfield, âand I decided that the Oliphant school would be best for her.â âAnd a wise choice, too,â said Aunt Isabel; âthatâs where I wanted Ethelyn to go this year. The best people in New York patronise it.â âBut theyâre awfully strict there,â said Ethelyn; âthey make you study every minute. The lessons are awful hard, and the rules are something terrible.â Patty began to look a little serious at this prospect, but Mr. Fairfield said: âSchool management that isnât strict is no management at all; but if Patty gives this school a fair trial and finds she doesnât like it, weâll try to find one that suits her better.â Mr. Fairfield invited the guests to stay to luncheon and they willingly accepted. Patty was a little disappointed, for though fond of her aunt and cousin in some ways, she would have preferred not to have them there the first day. The St. Clairs were very assertive people and seemed to pervade the whole place. They fluttered about from room to room, examining everything, and freely offering advice and criticism. âI will help you select some new clothes, Patricia,â said her aunt; âfor Iâm sure what you had in Vernondale will not be suitable for the city.â Grandma Elliott looked dismayed. She was of such a gentle, refined nature that she could not quite bring herself to refuse Mrs. St. Clairâs offer, and yet as she glanced at the over-dressed Ethelyn she was very sure that she did not wish Patty similarly attired. But Mr. Fairfield came to her rescue. âThank you, Isabel,â he said; âbut you see Iâm still trying experiments with my daughter. And this winter I have put her entirely in charge of Mrs. Elliott in every particularâeven including her millinery goods. But come, let us all go down to luncheon, and we shall be greatly indebted to you if you will assist us in ordering that.â As Patty sometimes expressed it, her father had a happy faculty for offending people without their knowing it; and he had changed the subject so deftly that Mrs. St. Clair scarcely realised that her offer had been refused. As they went down in the elevator, and passed through many beautiful rooms on their way to the dining-room, Ethelyn grew enthusiastic with delight. âOh,â she whispered, as she squeezed Pattyâs arm, âit must be just gorgeous to live here! Such beautiful rooms, and such grand-looking people, and servants all about. I should think you would always want to sit in these parlours.â âI donât,â said Patty, laughing; âI wouldnât know what to do sitting up here in state. I think our own rooms much more pleasant and home-like.â The dining-room, too, excited Ethelynâs admiration. The soft thick carpets, and daintily laid tables, each with its vase of flowers, seemed suddenly to her far more desirable than the well-appointed dining-room in her own home at Villa Rosa. Ethelyn was of an envious disposition, and though she was indulged and petted by her parents, she always wanted the belongings of someone else. She determined right then and there to coax her father to close up Villa Rosa and come to New York for the winter, though she had little hope that he would do so. Whatever might be Aunt Isabelâs taste in buying clothes, she certainly knew very well how to order a luncheon, and as Mr. Fairfield put the matter entirely in her hands, a most satisfactory repast was the result. Patty enjoyed it all immensely, and as she looked around at the pleasant-faced people at the other tables she came to the conclusion that it was all very attractive, and that her home would be very happy. She was glad that Aunt Isabel and Ethelyn were only temporary guests, for Patty could not help noticing that Mrs. St. Clair, though polite and correct, did not act quite like Grandma Elliott. The elder lady, though equally sophisticated, had an air of reserve and gentle dignity which seemed to Patty far more charming than Aunt Isabelâs haughty self-assurance. Though Patty herself was inexperienced, she knew by instinct that Aunt Isabel laughed just a little too loudly, and expressed her opinions just a little too frankly, for a public dining-room. But Mrs. St. Clair had been very kind to Patty during her visit the previous year, and, too, she had, as Patty was well aware, some very lovable traits. So Pattyâs sense of justice asserted itself, and she reproached herself for having criticised her aunt unkindly, even in thought. As the St. Clairs were going to a matinÃ©e, they left immediately after luncheon, and Patty drew a little sigh of relief after their departure. âI like Aunt Isabel least of any of my aunts, papa,â she said. âI donât blame you much, my child; Isabel is kind-hearted, but she is a worldly woman, and exceedingly superficial. Your Aunt Alice is worth a dozen of her.â âYes,â said Patty, âand Aunt Grace is worth half-a-dozen, and Aunt Hester is worth three or four, anyway.â âBut she is your aunt, Patty,â said Grandma Elliott, gently; âyou must remember that, and consequently you owe her respect and deference.â âAll right, Grandma; Iâll pay her all the respect and deference she wants; but I do hate to have her bothering around when we want to get settled to our housekeeping. But now theyâve gone, and I can have a good long afternoon to straighten things out.â âAll right, Puss,â said her father, âand Iâm going out now, on some errands, and if you tuck Grandma away for a little nap, which Iâm quite sure she needs, you can have an uninterrupted hour all to yourself.â âBeautiful!â cried Patty; âthen I can fix all my books just as I want them, and arrange my tea table and bureau-drawers and everything. And youâll bring me home a box of candy, wonât you, so we can have a lovely cosey time this evening?â âIn the bright lexicon of your youth, a cosey time seems to mean a box of candy and a new book.â âYes,â said Patty; âIâm sure I donât know anything cosier. Now run along, and come back early, and donât forget the candy.â A little fatigued with the unusual exertions of the day, Mrs. Elliott went to her room for her nap, and Patty prepared to enjoy herself in her own way. She was tidy by nature, and really enjoyed what she called straightening out. Deciding upon the best places for her belongings, and then arranging them in those places, proved an absorbing occupation, and she spent the whole afternoon thus happily at work. CHAPTER IV LORRAINE Later in the afternoon Kenneth Harper called. Patty and Grandma Elliott were both glad to see the boy, for though a student at Columbia College, he had visited much at Vernondale, and they were both well acquainted with him. âItâs awfully jolly, your being in town this winter, Patty,â he said, âand I expect Iâll bother you to death running down to see you. If I come too often, Mrs. Elliott, you must just put me out without any ceremony.â âIâll remember that,â said Grandma, smiling, âand if you appear more than once a week, I shall give you a gentle hint.â âA hint will be sufficient, maâam; Iâm not like the man who hung around until they kicked him downstairs. He thought a while and then the situation dawned upon him; âI know what they meant,â he said; âthey meant they didnât want me up there!â Now Iâm not like that; I can catch on much more quickly.â Patty and Grandma laughed heartily at Kennethâs funny story, and then the boy unwrapped a parcel which he had brought. âYou see,â he said, âI felt sure you people would want to do a little light farming, so I brought you a plantation.â As he spoke he removed the papers from a pretty window-box, which was filled with several small plants. âOh, how nice!â cried Patty, clapping her hands; âI just wanted something to take care of. You see I canât have a dog or a cat or any kind of an animal here, but I can have plants. One of the girls gave me a little fern, but I think it is going to die. Itâs drooping like a weeping-willow now.â âI rather think these will die soon,â said Kenneth, cheerfully, âbut it doesnât matter; when they do, you can get some more to put inâof a different kind. Itâs nice to have a variety.â âI think they look very thrifty,â said Grandma, âand Iâm sure with good care theyâll do nicely.â âPerhaps they will, maâam; that one in the end is an orange tree. It may have oranges on by Christmas.â âYes, if anybody ties them on,â said Patty, laughing. With Kennethâs help they arranged the box in the bay-window, and Patty named it âTen-Acre Farm.â âFor,â she said, âalthough it doesnât really measure quite ten acres, I like a large-sounding name; it gives you such a feeling of roominess.â âAnd thatâs a great thing in New York,â said Kenneth; âsomehow I always feel cramped. My room is too small, thereâs never any room in the street cars, and even the sidewalks are crowded.â âWell, you may come down and roam around my farm whenever you like,â said Patty; âand now, donât you think it would be nice, Grandma, if we made a cup of tea? Just to see how the tea-things work, you know.â Grandma thought it would be a very nice plan, and she rang for hot water, while Patty hunted up the tea-caddy, and Kenneth filled the alcohol lamp. And so, when Mr. Fairfield returned with the promised box of candy, he found a merry tea-party of three awaiting him. âHow do you do, Kenneth, my boy!â he said, cordially grasping young Harperâs hand. âIâm very well, Mr. Fairfield, and delighted to welcome you and yours as fellow-citizens of our village. The last time I saw you, we were all down at the seashore; do you remember?â âYes, and a jolly time we had down there; we must go again next summer. Wonât you stay and dine with us, Kenneth?â âNo, thank you, sir; I canât to-night, much as I should like to. I must go home and dig up Greek roots all the evening.â âYou have a farm, too, then?â said Grandma, smiling. âYes, and one thatâs rather hard to till. But I suppose, Patty, youâll be grubbing away at lessons next week.â âYes,â said Patty, âand I believe Iâm not to lift my eyes from my book from Monday morning till Friday night.â âBut Saturdays?â said Kenneth. âSaturday afternoons, if we are at home, weâll always be glad to see you,â said Grandma. âThank you, maâam; Iâll often run down, and, take my chances on finding you in.â âI like that young chap,â said Mr. Fairfield, after Kenneth had gone; âand he seems so alone here in the city. I think we might be a little kind to him, Grandma.â âI think so, too,â agreed Mrs. Elliott, cordially; âheâs a thoroughly nice boy, and Iâve always liked him.â âHe _is_ a nice boy,â said Patty, âand how much he looks like his aunt. He always makes me think of Miss Daggett.â The elders laughed at this, for Miss Daggett, who had been the Fairfieldsâ next-door neighbour at Vernondale, was an elderly, erratic, unamiable spinster, and her nephew was a frank young fellow, as good-natured as he was good-looking. When dinner-time came Grandma told Patty that she might wear her white cashmere dress and white hair-ribbons. This pleased Patty very much, for it was one of her favourite frocks, and she always enjoyed wearing it. Though not over-fond of dress, Patty had a great liking for pretty things, and was also very sensitive to pleasant sights and sounds. So the dinner-hour delighted her, for the dining-room was gaily lighted and decorated, and musicians in a palm-screened balcony played soft music. Patty took her place at their table, and, being of an adaptable nature, remarked that she felt already quite at home there. âI donât know,â said Mr. Fairfield; âitâs a little more like a hotel than I had anticipated. Still, if we feel that weâre surrounded by too many of our fellow-beings, we can have a private dining-room.â âOh, no, donât do that,â said Patty; âI like it better this way.â âI like it, too,â said Grandma Elliott; âdonât make a change yet, Fred; let us try it for a while, at least.â âVery well,â said Mr. Fairfield, âjust as you ladies say. And, Grandma, I think that lady at the next table must know you. Sheâs smiling at you most amiably.â Mrs. Elliott looked in the direction indicated. âWhy, she certainly does know me,â she said, bowing cordially to the lady in question. âThat is Mrs. Hamilton. Sheâs the daughter of my old friend, Ellen Howard. And thatâs her daughter sitting next her. If theyâre living here, Patty, you will probably find Lorraine Hamilton a pleasant companion.â âLorraine,â said Patty; âwhat a pretty name. And she looks like a nice girl, too.â After dinner our party found Mrs. Hamilton and her daughter in the parlour, and paused to talk to them there. Mrs. Hamilton was glad to see Mrs. Elliott, who had been such a dear friend of her motherâs, and while they talked to each other the two girls sat down on a near-by sofa to become acquainted. Lorraine Hamilton was a girl of about Pattyâs own age, but while Patty was rosy and healthy-looking, Lorraine was pale and delicate. She was very graceful and pretty, with dark hair and large dark eyes. But she seemed listless and indifferent, and Patty, who enjoyed everything enthusiastically, wondered what could be the matter with her. âAre you well?â Patty asked her, bluntly. One of Pattyâs greatest faults was her abrupt manner of questioning people. She did not mean to be rude, but she was by nature so frank and straightforward that she often spoke in that way without realising it. âYes,â said Lorraine, looking a little surprised, âIâm well, but Iâm never very strong.â âI donât believe you take exercise enough,â said Patty, still bluntly; âyou donât look as if you did.â âI donât take any,â said Lorraine, candidly, âthat is, not if I can help it. I walk to school and back every day, but thatâs only three blocks each way, and I never go out anywhere else.â âBut why not?â asked Patty, in amazement. âBecause I donât want to. I hate to go out of doors; I like to sit in the house all the time, and read or write.â âI like to read, too. But I like to run out of doors or walk or ride or play tennis or skate or anything like that.â âI donât,â said Lorraine, shortly. She spoke so curtly that Patty suddenly realised that perhaps she hadnât been very polite herself, and as she saw that Grandma Elliott and Mrs. Hamilton were still deeply absorbed in their conversation, she felt that she ought to try once more to entertain this queer girl. âWhat do you like to read?â she asked, by way of starting a subject. âPoetry,â said Lorraine, âall kinds of poetry. Iâm going to
{'title': 'Patty in the City by Carolyn Wells', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}