A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

Patty Fairfield

C >> Carolyn Wells >> Patty Fairfield




As her contribution to the entertainment, Patty sang several of Robert
Louis Stevenson's child-songs, which are set to such beautiful music, and
Ruth recited a portion of "The Courtship of Miles Standish."

Then the curtains were drawn, and soon after the lights in the room were
all turned out. Then the curtains flew open again disclosing a white sheet
brightly illuminated from behind.

Somebody read aloud the poem by Richard Barham about "The Knight and the
Lady," while a shadow pantomime representing the action of the ballad was
shown on the sheet.

It was very funny.

Cousin Elizabeth was the Lady Jane, who was "tall and slim," while the part
of Sir Thomas was wonderfully well acted by Cousin Tom, and when that
portly old gentleman, who it seems was a naturalist, went around
"unearthing his worms and his grubs," he looked very funny indeed.

And then when
"Close by the side
Of the bank he espied
An uncommon fine tadpole, remarkably fat;
He stooped, and he thought her his own, he had caught her,
Got hold of her tail, and to land almost brought her,
When, he plumped head and heels into fifteen feet water,"
and the shadow Sir Thomas ducked suddenly into the pond, and a very real
splashing was heard, the delighted audience fairly shouted with laughter.

And then when the funny old gardener appeared, bringing to the august Lady
Jane the news of Sir Thomas' fate, and when the jocund Captain McBride
tried to console the weeping lady,--but, no, I can't tell it all to you; to
see how funny it all was you will have to read the ballad in the "Ingoldsby
Legends" for yourself.

When that was over, sandwiches, ices and cakes were served and they seemed
to be as thoroughly enjoyed by the young people as were Aunt Isabel's
elaborate feasts, though by contrast it seemed to Patty a very slight
repast.

Next came the "Quotation Salad" which was Ruth's pride and delight.

Cousin Elizabeth passed around a great bowl, which seemed to be full of
leaves of crisp, green lettuce.

They were, however, made of tissue paper, and each leaf had attached to it
a strip of writing paper on which was written a quotation.

These were from well-known poems or historic speeches, or even from Mother
Goose's Melodies and other juvenile classics.

Each child drew out three leaves, and endeavored to remember or guess the
source of the quotations written thereon.

Then the roll was called, and all who could give their three answers
correctly were marked one hundred.

After this, the unguessed ones were read aloud, and whoever could answer
them received ten more on his or her score for each perfect answer.

To the child attaining the highest score, a prize of a Dictionary of
Quotations was to be awarded.

Patty's three questions were easy enough. One was "His cause is marching
on."

Another was "Twinkle, twinkle little bat," and the third was "Don't give up
the ship."

She could place all three, but when the more difficult ones were announced,
she found that she knew very little about general literature.

Ruth, however, could tell the author of nearly every one, and no one was
surprised when her score was declared the highest.

However, as she was the hostess, she declined to accept the prize, and it
was given to the guest whose score stood the next highest.

Other intellectual or literary games were played, and at eleven o'clock the
children were sent home, and Aunt Hester bade Ruth and Patty go to bed at
once, lest they should not feel like getting up at the usual hour the next
morning.

Patty heartily thanked Cousin Elizabeth for taking so much pains to make
the party a pleasant one, and ran away to bed, wondering if many little
girls had such clever relatives.

The spring flew by, and Patty could scarcely realize that she had been in
Boston nearly three months, when a letter came from Mrs. Barlow her
mother's sister, at whose house she was to visit next.

"My dear Patty," her Aunt Grace wrote, "we are going to our country home on
Long Island about the first of June, and we want you to come to us as soon
as we get settled there. No,--not settled, we're never that, but as soon as
we get enough things straightened out to live with. Our country-place is
called 'The Hurly-Burly,' so you may prepare yourself to see a family that
lives up to that name. But there is plenty of amusement, if you are fond of
boating and bathing, and we will all welcome you with open arms and glad
hearts; and the sooner you come, the better we shall like it. Your cousins,
Bob and Bumble are very anxious to see you, and are making wonderful plans
for your entertainment. So come as soon as you can, and if you will let us
know at what hour to expect you, Uncle Theodore will meet you at the Grand
Central Station in New York, and bring you over to us at Long Island.

"Your loving Aunt,

"GRACE BARLOW."

"But I don't want you to go," said Ruth, when she heard the letter read;
"I'd like to have you stay here always."

Patty was surprised at this, for Ruth had always seemed so cold and
unresponsive, that it didn't seem as if she had any affection in her
nature.

The other members of the Fleming family echoed Ruth's sentiments, and
though Patty felt sure their expressions were honestly meant, yet she
thought, too, that as soon as she had gone, she would be forgotten in the
rush of their busy life.

One morning in early June as they sat at the breakfast-table, Patty
received a telegram, which said:

"Come at once before all are drowned. Grand Central five.

"HELEN BARLOW."

Although Patty didn't know it, Helen was the real name of her cousin who
was always called Bumble, and Patty, horror-stricken at the import of this
message, read it aloud, asking what it could mean.

The Fleming family were entirely unacquainted with the Barlows, and could
give no clue, but one and all were filled with consternation at the
peremptory summons.

Cousin Tom took the yellow paper and perused it carefully, then said:

"One thing is clear, at any rate, Patty, they expect you to be at the Grand
Central Station in New York to-day at five o'clock, and you shall be there,
for I'll take you myself."

So they all helped with the packing, and succeeded in getting one trunk
ready for Patty to take with her, promising to send her other belongings
after her a few days later.

With hurried good-byes and a promise of another visit to Boston at some
future time, Patty went away with Cousin Tom, and they took the train for
New York.




CHAPTER XII


THE HURLY-BURLY

Patty and Cousin Tom reached the Grand Central station in New York about
six o'clock, and leaving the train, went in search of any member of the
Barlow family who might be there to meet them.

They hadn't walked a dozen steps before they were confronted by three
broadly smiling faces.

These faces belonged to a tall, large man with his arms full of bundles,
and a boy and girl who seemed both to be about Patty's own age.

"You're Patty, I know it,--I know it!" cried the girl, and she flung her
arms round Patty's neck and kissed her heartily. "I am Bumble, and this is
Bob, my twin; oh, I'm so glad to get you."

By this time Bob was shaking Patty's hand vigorously, and Mr. Barlow was
trying to squeeze all of his bundles into one arm, that he might have a
hand free to offer his niece.

Then Patty introduced Cousin Tom, and the party all went into the
waiting-room together.

"But who sent me that telegram? and who is Helen?" inquired Patty, as she
walked along with one of her twin cousins clinging to either arm.

"Oh, that's me," said Bumble. "My real name's Helen, but nobody ever calls
me it."

"Because she's like a bumble-bee," explained Bob. "She's always tumbling
about and knocking into people, and she's so buzzy and fat."

"Yes," said Bumble, good-naturedly, "I am; I'd like to be slim and graceful
like you, but I'm not, so I just put up with myself and have all the fun I
can."

Mr. Barlow gave Mr. Fleming a cordial invitation to continue his journey
with Patty, and spend the night at "The Hurly-Burly," as his country-place
on Long Island was called, but Cousin Tom declined, saying he had business
in New York.

"But, Patty," he said, "your new-found relatives seem to be in no immediate
danger of drowning."

"No," said Patty, who was consumed with curiosity to know what the telegram
could have meant.

"Drowning!" exclaimed Mr. Barlow, "what are you talking about? The bathing
is very safe at our place; there's really no danger at all, unless one is
positively foolhardy."

"No," said Patty, "but my telegram said--"

"Oh, I know," broke in Bumble. "Papa left it to me to send you word to come
to-day, and I didn't get at it until it was too late to write, so I
telegraphed,--and I was so afraid you wouldn't get here before the kittens
were drowned, that I mentioned it to make you hurry up."

"Kittens!" exclaimed Patty, laughing, "you didn't say kittens."

"I know it, but the ten words gave out too soon. I just had room to get in
that we'd meet you at five o'clock. Oh, the kittens are such dears! Two
black ones and a white one and a spotted one--The white one is the
prettiest, but she's an idiot, poor thing."

Cousin Tom was relieved to learn that no human beings were in jeopardy of
their lives, but he secretly thought that Patty's new home was to be among
very erratic people.

He bade his small cousin good-bye with real regret, for he and Patty had
become firm friends during her Boston visit. After Mr. Fleming had left
them, Mr. Barlow picked up all his bundles and packages, and telling the
three children to follow him, he stalked away at a rapid pace.

Bob took Patty's satchel and Bumble took her umbrella, then they each
grasped her arm and marched her along after their father.

"You see," explained Bob, "dad walks so very fast that we have to scurry to
keep him in sight. So we'll boost you along,--it'll only be a minute."

And sure enough in a moment Mr. Barlow stopped at a street-car, and turned
around expecting to find the children at his elbow, and there they were. He
put them on the car, jumped on himself, and they all went over to the
ferry.

A ride across the East River on the ferry-boat, and then a short ride in
the cars brought them to the station of Sandy Cove.

Here Mr. Barlow expected his own carriage to be awaiting them, but no
carriage was in sight. As it was growing dusk, and their home was still two
miles distant, this was very annoying.

"I'll walk over home, and bring the carriage back for you," volunteered
Bob; "it must be that Dil has forgotten to come for us."

"No," said his father, "you needn't do that,--we'll all jog along together
and probably we'll meet Dil on the way."

"Dil is the man who takes care of our horse," said Bumble, as they walked
along. "That's short for Dilatory, and we call him that 'cause he's so
slow. In fact, we never know whether he's coming for us, or not."

And, apparently, this time Dilatory was not coming, for the travelers
walked all the way without meeting the carriage. As they walked up the
path, Patty was somewhat surprised to see that what Mr. Barlow called a
cottage was in reality a large house. Wide verandas ran all the way round
it on both the first and second stories, and magnificent trees waved their
branches around and over it.

"This is the Hurly-Burly, Patty," said her uncle, "and if anything isn't
quite in order, you must pardon it, for we're scarcely settled yet, and
haven't had time to get everything to rights; and your Aunt Grace had the
misfortune to sprain her ankle yesterday, so she can't attend to things as
she otherwise would. But whatever you want just you come straight and tell
your Uncle Teddy, and you shall have it, if it's a roc's egg."

Patty laughed, for she well knew what happened once when a roc's egg was
asked for.

Then they entered the main front door, and Patty found herself in a wide
hall that ran straight through the house with a door at either end.

There were large rooms on both sides of the hall, and following her uncle
into one of these rooms, which was the sitting-room or general living-room
of the family, Patty saw a remarkable sight. In a large armchair sat a
sweet-faced lady, with an ottoman in front of her, on which her bandaged
foot was resting on a pillow. She was reading a book, which she laid down
as she heard people approaching, and over her head she held an open
umbrella.

This was a wise precaution, for a drenching rain was pouring on the
umbrella, and water dripped steadily from the ends of its ribs.

"Why, Grace," exclaimed Mr. Barlow, "what are you doing? What has
happened?"

"The tank must have burst," returned his wife, placidly, "but fortunately I
had this umbrella by me, so I opened it, and as you see, I am scarcely wet
at all. Is this Patty? Come here, my dear. I am your Aunt Grace, your
mother's sister, and I am prepared to love my little niece very much."

Patty returned very willingly her aunt's loving caress, and the two nestled
together under the big umbrella, while Bob and Bumble laughed at the funny
picture they made.

Uncle Ted had hastily dropped all his bundles on the hall table, and had
run up-stairs to see what was the matter with the tank.

"I have a sprained ankle, Patty," said her aunt, by way of explanation of
her predicament, "and I can't move a step. So I keep a cane near me to
knock on the floor when I want anybody to fetch me things, but the cane got
mislaid somehow, so I had this umbrella in its place. And wasn't it
fortunate? For when the water began to drip down I just put up the umbrella
and protected myself perfectly. The only trouble was, I couldn't close it
to knock on the floor without getting myself drenched, so, as I had an
interesting book I just waited patiently for somebody to come. The servants
have gone on an excursion and Nan is away, too, so there was no one to
knock for except old Dilatory, and he wouldn't have heard me anyway. Now,
Bob, if you'll get another umbrella to hold over yourself while you move me
to dryer quarters I'll be truly grateful."

"Take mine," said Patty, running to fetch it, and then she held her open
umbrella over Bob while he wheeled his mother's chair across the hall and
into the music-room.

Bumble moved the ottoman at the same time, and though she meant to be very
careful, she bumped the wounded foot terribly when going over the
door-sills, but Mrs. Barlow pretended it didn't hurt her, and thanked the
children lovingly for their assistance. "Now, Bob," she said, "run and help
your father, I suppose he's up in the tank-room investigating the source of
that waterfall. Tell him he'd better send Dil for a plumber at once; and
Bumble, you go and see if cook has returned yet, for if not, I don't know
when we'll get any dinner. Patty, dear, take off your hat and jacket and
then come and sit here by me, and we'll have a little talk. You remind me
very much of your mother at your age. Do you remember her at all?"

"No, Aunt Grace; I wish I could, but she died when I was only three, you
know. I have a beautiful picture of her."

"Have you? you must show it to me when your trunks come. You are like your
mother in form and feature, and I hope your disposition is like hers. She
was the loveliest woman I ever knew. So sweet and gentle, and so
unselfish."

"I think you look like her picture, Aunt Grace," said Patty, gazing
earnestly at her aunt.

"Oh, no, child; she was a hundred times more beautiful than I. And she was
so neat and dainty, and always did the right thing at the right time. I was
the harum-scarum of the family, and I'm sorry to say, my children seem to
have inherited my traits of character. They are so careless, forgetful and
unsystematic. But they're dear sweet children, and I hope, Patty, you will
learn to love your Barlow cousins."

"I don't need to learn, Aunt Grace, I love them already. Bob is such a
frank, pleasant boy, and Bumble is a dear; so witty and bright."

"Yes, they are intelligent; and if you will be patient with our
shortcomings, I think we will be very happy together. And our household, at
present, contains another member. Nan Allen, who is visiting here, is a
neighbor of ours in Philadelphia, and though several years older than you,
she is a most charming young woman, and I'm sure you will like her.
Gracious! how the water is pouring down in the sitting-room yet. I wish I
could get up on my feet. Run up-stairs, Patty, and find your Uncle Ted, and
ask him what is to be done about it?"

Although unacquainted with the house, Patty ran up-stairs, and through
various rooms, but without finding her uncle.

Anxious to do her aunt's bidding, she ran on up to the third story, and in
a large attic room she found her uncle standing before a large
old-fashioned bookcase, eagerly reading a volume which he held in his
hands.

"What about the water, Uncle Ted?" said Patty.

"Yes,--in a minute,--I'm going to attend to it. I'm so surprised to find
all these books here. We rented this cottage furnished, you know, and I
haven't been up here before. I'd no idea these books were here. Yes,--I'll
see about the water at once."

Patty went with her uncle to what he called the tank-room, and there Mr.
Barlow discovered that the leak was in a supply pipe which could easily be
shut off. This he did, and the downpour was immediately stopped, although
no water could be drawn through the house until the plumbers should come
and repair the pipes.

"Ted," said Mrs. Barlow, as her husband and Patty returned, "I don't
believe Hopalong will be home in time to cook dinner, so suppose we have a
pick-up supper? It's getting late, and Patty must be nearly starved after
her journey from Boston."

"All right," said Uncle Ted, cheerily; "is there anything in the house to
eat? Where's Bumble?"

"Go and hunt her up, please, and tell her I want her. And did you get the
cheese and fruit as I asked you to?"

"Yes, I bought out the whole market and carried it all home with me."

"Very well, then we won't starve. Now wheel me into the dining-room and
I'll see what we have on hand."

Just then Bob and Bumble appeared, each carrying two kittens, and these
four sprawling bits of animal life were deposited in Mrs. Barlow's lap,
while Patty was called upon to admire them.

"They are very cunning," said she, stroking them rather gingerly, for they
seemed very small and frail.

"Oh, you can't hurt them," said Bob; "see, pick 'em up this way," and he
grasped one by the back of its neck and held it sprawling in the air.

"No, hold one this way," said Bumble, cuddling a little ball of fur in the
palm of her hand. "But, mumsey, I'm awful hungry; aren't we going to have
any dinner? Where's Hopalong?"

"She's gone on the excursion, my dear. Poor thing, she works so hard I'm
glad for her to have a little outing."

"H'm, she gets one about twice a week," said Bob; "Hopalong's the cook,
Patty. We call her that 'cause she isn't very lively, and she just shuffles
about. But she's a good-natured old thing, and such a good cook--"

"Here, children, take this flock of cats," said Mrs. Barlow, "and we'll
soon have something to eat, cook or no cook."

Bumble gathered up the kittens, beginning with the white one. "This is the
idiot," she said, "but isn't it a pretty cat? You can see she's
half-witted, 'cause only one eye is open, and she has such a general air of
stupidity."

"She might turn out to be the smartest of the lot," said Patty.

"I wish I could keep her and see, but dad says they must all be drowned
to-morrow. I neglected the last kitten I had, and didn't feed her
regularly, so the poor thing died. Daddy, if you'll let me keep this one,
I'll never, _never_ forget to feed her--honest I won't. Please let me keep
just this one," and Bumble rubbed the furry ball on her father's cheek.

"Well, take them away now, and we'll see about it," said her father, and
Bumble danced off with the kittens feeling almost sure that she had gained
her point.

Then Bob and his father moved Mrs. Barlow with her chair and footstool out
to the dining-room.

"I don't know what there is, myself," she said, "but we'll forage in the
sideboard and pantry and see."

The foraging resulted in a pair of cold roasted ducks, plenty of plum-cake
and a cherry-pie.

"I'm sorry there isn't any bread," said Mrs. Barlow, apologetically; "I
told Hopalong to order it as she went by the baker's, but I fear she forgot
it."

"Never mind," said Bob, "I don't care much for bread, anyhow, do you,
Patty? Mother, here's a lot of cold potatoes. Can't you make a salad?"

"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Barlow; so the children brought the ingredients,
and a fine salad was soon concocted.

While this was going on, Miss Allen came running in.

"Oh," she exclaimed, "I'm as hungry as a hunter. We've been out sailing,
and I've _such_ an appetite. Who is this pretty child?"

"This is Patty Fairfield," said Bumble, "my cousin, from the South."

"Oh, yes, of course, I knew you expected her to-day. How do you do, Patty?
I'm very glad to see you. I am Nan Allen, and I want you to like me better
than you do any of the Barlows. Do you hear?"

"Yes," said Patty, "but I'll wait until I see if you like me."

Miss Allen was a very pretty young lady, of about twenty, with sparkling
black eyes, and a lot of curly golden hair, which she wore massed high on
her head. She was extremely vivacious and Patty liked her at once.

Then Bumble set the silver basket on the table, and Nan brought a pile of
plates and everybody helped himself or herself to such viands as they
wished.

There was much laughter and gay talk, and Patty enjoyed the informal meal
immensely.




CHAPTER XIII


HOME-MADE MUSIC

"Why do you call this the music-room?" asked Patty; "there's no piano in
it, nor any musical instrument that I can see."

"That's just the reason why," replied Nan. "I christened the room myself,
and I called it the music-room because it hasn't anything musical in it. I
get so tired of seeing music-rooms filled with pianos and banjos and
mandolins and guitars. This is a refreshing change. And besides, when we
want music we can sing."

"Then won't you sing now?" said Patty. "I'd like to hear you."

"Why, of course we will; would you like to hear some of our original
songs?"

"Yes, indeed! Do you make songs yourself?"

"Oh, we always make our own songs. Home-made songs are ever so much better
than boughten ones. They fit better and wear longer. We don't make the
tunes, though; we just appropriate those. First we'll sing you 'The Song of
the House.'"

This was sung to the air of "The Kerry Dance," and the whole family joined
their voices with Nan's, and all sang with great spirit.

Come, oh, come to the Hurly-Burly,
Come and join in the jolly fun
That begins in the morning early,
And continues till day is done.

Sailing, swimming, walking, riding,--
On the land or on the sea;
At the Hurly-Burly biding,
We're as happy as we can be.

Oh, the jollity, oh, the gayety,
Just come down and see;

CHORUS:--Come, oh, come, etc.

Sometimes we take sandwiches of chick,
And go off on a merry pick-a-nick;
Sometimes we in hammocks idly swing,
At other times we only sit and si-i-ng--

CHORUS:--Come, oh, come, etc.

"That's beautiful," said Patty when they had finished the song. "I'll learn
the words, and then I can sing it with you."

"Indeed you must" said Nan, "and now I'll sing you the song of the Barlow
family; they won't sing it themselves, but when you learn it, you and I can
warble it together."

"Sing a song of Barlows,
A family full of fun;
A father and a mother,
A daughter and a son.

"When the door is open
Hear the family sing!
All the people passing by
Run like anything."

"It's a base libel," said Uncle Ted; "we sing beautifully, and except that
Bumble flats, and Bob has no ear, there isn't a flaw in our singing."

The evening passed merrily by, and when it was bedtime, Bumble showed Patty
to her room.

When Patty found that a large front room on the second floor had been
allotted to her, she expressed a fear lest she might be inconveniencing
some one else by taking one of the choice rooms of the house.

"Not a bit," said Bumble. "Nan has the tower-room, because she likes it
better, and the house is so big, there are plenty of rooms, anyway. Of
course, if a lot of company comes, we may ask you to give up this, and take
a smaller room, but you wouldn't mind that, would you?"

"No, indeed," said Patty. "I'll move out at any time." Then Bumble kissed
her cousin good-night and went away.

Patty's trunk had been placed in her room, and she found that some one had
kindly unfastened its straps and clasps, so she had only to unlock it. She
unpacked her clothes, and hung up her dresses in the wardrobe and cupboard,
and put things neatly away in the bureau-drawers.

She placed her mother's picture on a small table, and looking at it
critically, she concluded that it was like Aunt Grace, but much prettier.

After this, Patty looked round the great room with much interest. It seemed
to contain a perfect hodge-podge of furniture. There were three
dressing-bureaus, and a huge wash-stand with two bowls and pitchers on it.
There were several large easy chairs, and an old haircloth sofa; there were
small tables, and bookcases, and a cabinet filled with bric-a-brac,
but,--and Patty could scarcely believe her eyes,--there was no bed!

Copyright (c) 2007. famouswriterz.com. All rights reserved.