Patty Fairfield

The cousins, who had become inseparable companions, enjoyed their school-life together, and the added duties which lessons brought, caused Aunt Alice to make Patty's household tasks rather fewer.

That lady was by no means an advocate of "all work and no play," and though some domestic duties were imposed and a cake or a dessert was taught every Saturday, yet Patty had plenty of time for amusements and plenty of amusements for her time.

One October day, Patty and Marian and two of their schoolgirl friends sat on Patty's balcony drinking afternoon tea.

It was getting late in the season to use the pretty balcony, but it chanced to be a bright, sunny autumn day, and the girls had their wraps on.

Besides, they were talking so busily, that I think they would scarcely have noticed it, had the mercury suddenly fallen to zero.

"Yes," Elsie Morris was saying, "we'll have a real literary club, and we'll have a president and constitution and everything. But don't let's have too many members. About twelve girls, I should say."

"Only girls?" said Marian, "aren't we going to have any boys? I know Frank would like to join."

"Oh, boys don't like to read," said Polly Stevens, "they're nice at parties and picnics, but we want this club to be really literary, and not just fooling."

"I know it," said Marian, "but we thought we'd have little plays and tableaux, and things like that. And how can we manage those without boys? What do you say, Patty?"

"I think it's nice to have the boys," said Patty, "but they won't come much in the afternoons. If we have them, it'll have to be an evening affair. Let's ask Aunt Alice."

"Yes," said Elsie, "Mrs. Elliott always knows just what to do."

"I'll go after her," said Patty, and away she ran, and returned in triumph with her aunt.

"Now, my blessed auntie," she said, as she gave her a seat, and wrapped a fleecy shawl about her shoulders, "let me offer you a cup of tea, for we are going to give you a weighty question to decide, and you'll need a stimulant."

"Very well," said Aunt Alice, laughing, "but you'd better ask the question quickly, for this tea doesn't look very strong and its effects will soon wear off."

So the girls all talked at once, or at least, two at a time, and explained that they wanted a literary club, and while they all liked the boys and would be glad of their assistance in plays and tableaux, yet they knew that if boys came to the meetings, there'd be little or no serious reading done.

"It may be the effects of your tea," said Mrs. Elliott, "but the solution of your problem seems to me so easy that I wonder you didn't think it out for yourselves."

"Oh, what is it?" said Elsie and Marian together.

"Why, have your club of girls only, and have your meetings on Saturday afternoons, as you proposed, and then occasionally,—say, once a month,—have an evening meeting and invite the boys and have your dramatic or musical entertainments then."

"I knew you'd fix it, Aunt Alice," said Patty, beaming, "won't that be just right, girls?"

They all agreed to this wise plan, and immediately made out a list of twelve girls, who, if they accepted the invitation, were to attend the first club meeting at Elsie Morris's house on the following Saturday.

Every one did accept, and the club was formed, and the twelve members went to work with a will to make rules and plans.

Patty was unanimously elected president.

She hesitated about undertaking to fill such a responsible office, but the girls, one and all, insisted upon it in a determined if not very parliamentary way; and so she accepted the position, feeling sure that Aunt Alice would assist and advise her in any difficulties that might arise.

The Literary Club proved a great success. Patty made a very capable and graceful little president, and when at a meeting in November, the girls began to discuss an evening entertainment to be held in December, and Patty remarked that perhaps she wouldn't be in Vernondale then, a general outcry was raised.

"What do you mean?"

"Why not?"

"Why, Patty Fairfield, where are you going?"

"I don't know where I'm going," said Patty, "but my visit at Marian's will be over the first of December, and then I'm going to have a new home, and I don't know where it will be. But oh, girls, I wish it could be in Vernondale."

"Why can't it?" said Marian eagerly, "why can't Uncle Fred buy a house here, and then you can live here all your life. Oh, Patty, wouldn't that be just fine?"

"Oh, Patty, do!" chorused all the girls, and Patty resolved that if she had any voice in the matter, Vernondale should be her future home.

CHAPTER XXII

A WELCOME GUEST

"Oh, Aunt Alice," cried Patty, flying into her aunt's room one morning in the latter part of November, "I've just had a letter from papa, and he'll be here for Thanksgiving-day! Isn't that grand?" and catching her aunt round the waist, Patty waltzed her up and down the room until the good lady was nearly breathless.

"I'm as glad as you are, Patty girl," she said, when her niece finally allowed her to come to a standstill, "for I haven't seen brother Fred for many long years. But I can tell you that his coming doesn't by any means bring your visit to an end; I'm going to keep you both here with me until after the holidays, and longer too, if I can."

"Well, I'll be only too glad to stay as long as papa is willing, and I do hope I can persuade him to settle in Vernondale. Do you believe he will, Aunt Alice?"

"I don't know. I think he is inclined to make his home in New York city. But Vernondale is a pleasant place and so near New York, as to be a sort of suburb."

"Well, I'm going to coax him, anyhow,—and now Aunt Alice, I'm going to ask you a big, big favor, may I?"

"Yes, you may ask, but I won't make any rash promises to grant it, until I hear what it is."

"Well,—I'm afraid you'll think I won't make them good enough,—but—I do want to make the pumpkin pies for Thanksgiving-day. Papa would be so surprised and pleased."

"Why, of course you may, child; I'll be very glad to be relieved of that duty, and cook will have all she can attend to."

"When is Uncle Fred coming?" said Frank, as they all sat at dinner that evening.

"The night before Thanksgiving," said Patty; "he'll arrive at about nine o'clock."

"Well, we'll give him a rousing welcome," said Frank, "a sort of 'Harvest

Home,' you know."

"All right," said his father, who was ever ready for a frolic, "what can we do out of the ordinary?"

"We could decorate the veranda with jack-o'-lanterns," said Marian, "and he'll see them as he drives up."

"Just the thing," said Frank, "and, oh,—I have a fine plan, but we won't tell Patty,—at least, not yet."

The day before Thanksgiving, the children were all allowed to stay home from school to make the final preparations for Uncle Fred's reception.

While Patty was in the kitchen making her pumpkin pies, (and surely, such beautiful pies never were made, before or since!) there was much rushing in and out of the parlor; and sounds of hammering and of moving furniture reached Patty's ears, but she was told that she would not be allowed even to peep into the room until evening.

So after the pies were made, Patty ran up to put the finishing touches to her father's bedroom.