Patty's Success

“Oh, you dear daddy!” she cried, as she clasped the gold in her fingers; “you lovely parent! This is the nicest Christmas gift I ever had, and now I’ll tell you all about it.”

So she told them, quite seriously, how she had really forgotten to give the poor and the suffering any share of her own Christmas cheer, and how this was the only way she could think of to remedy her neglect.

“And it’s so lovely,” she concluded; “for there are forty little boy-children. And with this money I can get them each a fifty-cent present.”

“So you can,” said Nan. “I’ll go with you to-morrow to select them. And if we can get some cheaper than fifty cents, and I think we can, you’ll have a little left for extras.”

“That’s so,” agreed Patty. “They often have lovely toys for about thirty-nine cents, and I could get some marbles or something to fill up.”

“To fill up what?” asked her father.

“Oh, to fill up the tree. Or I’ll get some ornaments, or some tinsel to decorate it. Oh, father, you are so good to me! This is a lovely Christmas present.”

CHAPTER III

THE DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Mr. Fairfield’s gift to his wife was a beautiful motor-car, and as they were going away for the holiday, he presented it to her the day before Christmas.

It was practically a gift to Patty as well, for the whole family could enjoy it.

“It’s perfectly lovely,” said Nan, as they all started out for a little spin, to try it. “I’ve had so much trouble of late with taxicabs, that it’s a genuine comfort to have my own car at my beck and call. It’s a lovely car, Fred, and Patty and I shall just about live in it.”

“I want you to enjoy it,” returned Mr. Fairfield, “and you may have every confidence in the chauffeur. He’s most highly recommended by a man I know well, and he’s both careful and skilful.”

“A nice-mannered man, too,” observed Patty. “I like his looks, and his mode of address. But if this car is partly my present, then I ought not to have had that gold money to buy drums with.”

“Oh, yes, you ought,” said her father. “That was your individual gift. In this car you and Nan are partners. By the way, Puss, did you ever get your forty drums? I didn’t hear about them.”

“You’re lucky that you didn’t hear them,” laughed Patty. “Yes, I did get them,—not all drums, some other toys,—and I took them down to the Sunshine place yesterday. I went with Mrs. Morse and Clementine. You know the kiddywids had their Christmas tree, the little poor children, and such a noise you never heard! They yelled and shouted for glee, and they banged drums and tooted horns, and then they sang songs, and I think I never knew such a noisy celebration, even on the fourth of July.”

“And were they glad to get your gifts?”

“Oh, yes, indeed! Why, just think, father, the little girls all had dolls, but if I hadn’t taken the gifts for the boys, they would only have had candy or an orange. Next Christmas I’m going to do more for them.”

“I’m glad to see your charitable spirit waking up, Patty-girl. I don’t want you to be a mere social butterfly. But, you know, you needn’t wait for Christmas to make the poor babies happy.”

“No; I know it, daddy, dear; and after Christmas is over, I’m going to try to do some good in the world.”

“Now, Patty,” said Nan, “don’t you go in for settlement work, and that sort of thing. I won’t let you. You’re not strong enough for it.”

“I don’t know exactly what settlement work is,” said Patty, “but I do know I’m not going to be a mere butterfly. I’m going to accomplish something worth while.”

“Well, wait till the holiday season is over,” advised Mr. Fairfield. “You’ve made forty boys happy, now turn your attention to making your family and friends happy. What are you going to give your poor old father for a Christmas gift, I should like to know.”

“I haven’t any such relative as you describe,” returned Patty, smiling at him affectionately. “I have a young and handsome father, and I think he seems to be rather a rich gentleman. Also I have a gift awaiting him at home, and I think we’d better be going there.”

“I do, too,” said Nan. “We’ve none too much time to get our luncheon and go to the train. Oh! what a comfort it will be to go to the train in our own motor-car.”

“Yes,” said Patty, “and then Miller can come back and take me over to Elise’s.”

So home they went, and had their own little Christmas celebration, before they went their separate ways.

“This is a make-believe Christmas feast,” said Patty, as they sat at their own luncheon table.

She had placed a sprig of holly at each plate, and a vase of poinsettia blossoms graced the centre of the table.

“This ox-tail soup is in place of the boar’s head,” she went on, gaily; “and I know we are going to have chicken croquettes, which we will pretend are the roast turkey. And then we’ll have our presents, as I know you two will fly for your train as soon as you leave the table.”

So Patty gave Nan her present, which was a lovely white couch pillow of lace and embroidery. And Nan gave Patty a picture to hang in her own room. It was a beautiful water-colour, a Venetian scene, and Patty was delighted with it.

Then Patty gave her father a gold penholder, which she had had made expressly for him, and engraved with his name.

“Why, that’s fine, Pattykins!” he exclaimed. “I can only write poems with a pen like that. It’s not made for business letters, I’m sure.”

“Of course it isn’t,” said Patty, gaily; “it’s to keep on your desk in the library here at home. And you must use it just for social correspondence or–”

“Or to sign checks for us,” suggested Nan, smiling.

“That’s just what I’ll do with it,” declared Mr. Fairfield. “It’s a gem of a pen; Patty, you know my weakness for fine desk appointments, don’t you?”

Nan gave her husband a watch fob, on which hung a locket containing a miniature of her own sweet face. Neither Patty nor her father had seen this before, as Nan had been careful to keep the matter secret in order to surprise them.

It was a real work of art, and so winsome was the pictured face that Patty cried out in admiration: “What a stunner you are, Nan! I didn’t realise you were so good-looking,—but it’s exactly like you.”

“That’s a mixed-up compliment, Patty,” laughed Nan, “but I’ll surmise that you mean well.”

“I do so! I think it’s a lovely picture of a lovely lady! There, how’s that?”

“Much better,” said Nan, as Patty caught her round the shoulders and kissed her affectionately.

“Give me the lady,” said Mr. Fairfield, taking Nan into his own arms. “As the portrait is a gift to me, I will kiss her for it, myself.”

“Do,” said Patty, “but if you give her more than three kisses, you’ll lose your train; it’s getting pretty late.”

“Is it?” cried Mr. Fairfield. “Then, Jane, bring in those two boxes I left in your charge, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” cried the waitress, and, leaving the room, she returned in a moment with two large white boxes.

“These are Christmas gifts to the two loveliest ladies I know,” said Mr. Fairfield, gallantly tendering a box to each.

“But I’ve had my Christmas gift from you!” exclaimed Patty, and “So have I!” cried Nan.

“Nevertheless these are laid at your feet,” said Mr. Fairfield, calmly depositing the boxes on the floor in front of them.

“Oh, well, we may as well see what they are,” said Patty, untying the white ribbons that fastened her box.

Nan did likewise, and in a moment they were both rapturously exclaiming over two sets of white furs that nestled in billows of white tissue paper.