Patty's Summer Days

Mr. Farrington looked at his watch. “It’s quarter of two,” he said, “do you suppose we can get in at this hour?”

“Indeed we will get in,” declared Roger, “if I have to drive this car smash through the gates, and bang in at the front door!”

The strain was beginning to tell on the boy, who had really had a fearful night of it, and he went dashing up to the large gates with a feeling of great relief that the end of the journey was at hand.

When they reached the entrance, the rain was coming down in torrents. Great lanterns hung either side of the portal, and disclosed the fact that the gates were shut and locked.

Roger had expected this, for he felt sure the Warners had long ago given up all thought of seeing their guests that night.

Repeated soundings of the horn failed to bring any response from the lodge-keeper, and Roger was just about to get out of the car, and ring the bell at the large door, when Patty’s quick eye discerned a faint light at one of the windows.

“Sure enough,” said Roger, as she called his attention to this, and after a few moments the large door was opened, and the porter gazed out into the storm.

“All right, sir, all right,” he called, seeing the car; and donning a great raincoat, he came out to open the gates.

“Well, well, sir,” he said, as Mr. Farrington leaned out to speak with him, “this is a night, sure enough! Mr. Warner, sir, he gave up looking for you at midnight.”

“I don’t wonder,” said Mr. Farrington, “and now, my man, can you ring your people up, and is there anybody to take care of the car?”

“Yes, sir, yes, sir,” said the porter, “just you drive on up to the house, and I’ll go back to the lodge and ring up the chauffeur, and as soon as he can get around he’ll take care of your car. I’ll ring up the housekeeper too, but she’s a slow old body, and you’d best sound your horn all the way up the drive.”

Roger acted on this advice and The Fact went tooting up the driveway, and finally came to a standstill at the front entrance of Pine Branches.

They were under a porte-cochère, and as soon as they stopped, Elise jumped out, and began a vigorous onslaught on the doorbell. Roger kept the horn sounding, and after a few moments the door was opened by a somewhat sleepy-looking butler. As they entered, Mr. Warner, whose appearance gave evidence of a hasty toilet, came flying down the staircase, three steps at a time.

“Well, well, my friends,” he exclaimed, “I’m glad to see you, I am overjoyed to see you! We were expecting you just at this particular minute, and I am so glad that you arrived on time. How do you do, Mrs. Farrington? And Elise, my dear child, how you’ve grown since I saw you last! This is Patty Fairfield, is it? How do you do, Patty? I am very glad to see you. Roger, my boy, you look exhausted. Has your car been cutting up jinks?”

As Mr. Warner talked, he bustled around shaking hands with his guests, assisting them out of their wraps, and disposing of them in comfortable chairs.

Meantime the rest of the family appeared.

Bertha Warner, a merry-looking girl of about Patty’s age, came flying downstairs, pinning her collar as she ran.

“How jolly of you,” she cried, “to come in the middle of the night! Such fun! I’m so glad to see you, Elise; and this is Patty Fairfield? Patty, I think you’re lovely.”

The impulsive Bertha kissed Patty on both cheeks, and then turned to make way for her mother.

Mrs. Warner was as merry and as hearty in her welcome as the others. She acted as if it were an ordinary occurrence to be wakened from sleep at two o’clock in the morning, to greet newly arrived guests, and she greeted Patty quite as warmly as the others.

Suddenly a wild whoop was heard, and Winthrop Warner, the son of the house, came running downstairs.

“Jolly old crowd!” he cried, “you wouldn’t let a little thing like a tornado stop your progress, would you? I’m glad you persevered and reached here, even though a trifle late.”

Winthrop was a broad-shouldered, athletic young man, of perhaps twenty-four, and though he chaffed Roger merrily, he greeted the ladies with hospitable courtesy, and looked about to see what he could do for their further comfort. They were still in the great square entrance hall, which was one of the most attractive rooms at Pine Branches. A huge corner fireplace showed the charred logs of a fire which had only recently gone out, and Winthrop rapidly twisted up some paper, which he lighted, and procuring a few small sticks, soon had a crackling blaze.

“You must be damp and chilly,” he said, “and a little fire will thaw you out. Mother, will you get something ready for a feast?”

“We should have waited dinner,” began Mrs. Warner, “and we did wait until after ten, and then we gave you up.”

“It’s nearer time for breakfast than for dinner,” said Elise.

“I don’t want breakfast,” declared Roger, “I don’t like that meal anyway. No shredded whisk brooms for me.”

“We’ll have a nondescript meal,” said Mrs. Warner, gaily, “and each one may call it by whatever name he chooses.”

In a short time they were all invited to the dining-room, and found the table filled with a variety of delicious viands.

Such a merry tableful of people as partook of the feast! The Warners seemed to enjoy the fact that their guests arrived at such an unconventional hour, and the Farrington party were so glad to have reached their destination safely that they were in the highest of spirits.

Of course the details of the trip had to be explained, and Roger was unmercifully chaffed by Winthrop and his father for having taken the wrong road. But so good-naturedly did the boy take the teasing, and so successfully did he pretend that he came around that way merely for the purpose of extending a pleasant tour, that he got the best of them after all.

At last Mrs. Warner declared that people who had been through such thrilling experiences must be in immediate need of rest, and she gave orders that they must all start for bed forthwith.

It is needless to say that breakfast was not early next morning. Nor did it consist as Roger had intimated, of “shredded whisk brooms,” but was a delightful meal, at which Patty became better acquainted with the Warner family, and confirmed the pleasant impressions she had received the night before.

After breakfast Mrs. Warner announced that everybody was to do exactly as he or she pleased until the luncheon hour, but she had plans herself for their entertainment in the afternoon.

So Winthrop and Roger went off on some affairs of their own, and Bertha devoted herself to the amusement of the two girls.

First, she suggested they should all walk around the place, and this proved a delightful occupation.

Pine Branches was an immense estate, covering hundreds of acres, and there was a brook, a grove, golf grounds, tennis court and everything that could by any possibility add to the interest or pleasure of its occupants.

“But my chief and dearest possession,” said Bertha, smiling, “is Abiram.”

“A dog?” asked Patty.

“No,” said Bertha, “but come, and I will show him to you. He lives down here, in this little house.”

The little house was very like a large-sized dog-kennel, but when they reached it, its occupant proved to be a woolly black bear cub.

“He’s a perfect dear, Abiram is,” said Bertha, as she opened the door, and the fat little bear came waddling out. He was fastened to a long chain, and his antics were funny beyond description.

“He’s a real picture-bear,” said Bertha; “see, his poses are just like those of the bears in the funny papers.”

And so they were. Patty and Elise laughed heartily to see Abiram sit up and cross his paws over his fat little body.

“How old is he?” asked Patty.

“Oh, very young, he’s just a cub. And of course, we can’t keep him long. Nobody wants a big bear around. At the end of the summer, Papa says, he’ll have to be sent to the Zoo. But we have lots of fun looking at him now, and I take pictures of him with my camera. He’s a dear old thing.” Bertha was sitting down by the bear, playing with him as with a puppy, and indeed the soft little creature showed no trace of wild animal habits, or even of mischievous intent.

“He’s just like a big baby,” said Patty. “Wouldn’t it be fun to dress him up as one?”

“Let’s do it,” cried Bertha, gleefully. “Come on, girls, let’s fly up to the house, and get the things.”

Leaving Abiram sitting in the sun, the three girls scampered back to the house. Bertha procured two large white aprons and declared they would make a lovely baby dress.

And so they did. By sewing the sides together nearly to the top, and tying the strings in great bows to answer as shoulder straps, the dress was declared perfect. A dainty sunbonnet, with a wide fluffy ruffle, which was a part of Bertha’s own wardrobe, was taken also, and with a string of large blue beads, and an enormous baby’s rattle which Bertha unearthed from her treasure-chest, the costume was complete.