Patty's Motor Car

“I do think you might do one for me, Ken. You haven’t even tried.”

“All right, girlie; I’ll do this one about the cars and chains. Do you mind if I go off by myself to think it out?”

Kenneth went into another room, and Patty looked after him in wonderment. She didn’t guess that he was longing to help her, and, though he couldn’t guess conundrums, he hoped he might puzzle out this question of mechanical power.

And then Mr. Hepworth came, and also Philip Van Reypen. They knew it was the last day, and they wanted to hear what Patty’s final report might be.

Philip Van Reypen had been greatly amused at the letter Patty wrote him, and, being an exceedingly sensible young man, he had not answered or referred to it definitely, but had accepted its dictum, and had called at the Fairfield house far less often. Nor had he again hinted for an invitation to dinner, but awaited one which should be freely given.

“How many yet to do?” he asked, blithely.

“Four,” answered Patty, disconsolately.

“Out with ’em! What are they? Not charades, I hope; I simply can’t do charades.”

“There’s one charade left, but here’s an enigma, which is about as bad. Oh, Mr. Hepworth, can’t you guess it?”

Appealed to thus, Hepworth made up his mind to help, if he possibly could, and both he and Van Reypen listened attentively as Patty read:

“‘I am intangible, yet I may be felt, seen, and heard. I exist from two to six feet above the ground. I have neither shape nor substance, and, though a natural production, I am neither animal, vegetable, or mineral. I am neither male nor female, but something between both. I am told of in the Scriptures, in history, in song, and in story. I am sad or merry; loving or treacherous. I am given or bought, and, because of my great value, I am sometimes stolen. I am used by men who swear, and by innocent children. Of late, there has been a prejudice against me, but I shall probably be in vogue as long as the world shall stand.’”

They all thought and pondered. Nan came in, and, as Patty read it slowly over again, even she tried to guess it. But they could not.

At last Philip Van Reypen gave a whoop of triumph, and exclaimed:

“I have it! Miss Fairfield, I’ve guessed it! Will you give it to me, if I tell you what it is?”

“Your speech sounds like an enigma, too,” said Patty, a little bewildered.

“But I’ve guessed it, I tell you. And, if you’ll promise to give it to me, I’ll tell you the answer.”

“No, I won’t promise,” said Patty. “It might be the motor car itself!”

“But it isn’t! It’s far more valuable than that! It’s a kiss!”

“Oh!” said Patty, “so it is! How did you guess it? It’s fearfully hard!”

Mr. Hepworth looked distinctly chagrined. Why, he thought, couldn’t he have guessed the foolish thing! It was easy enough, – after one knew it!

“Ken, come in here!” cried Patty; “we have guessed another! That is, Mr. Van Reypen did. Now, there are only three left.”

“Only two!” announced Kenneth, as with a beaming face he came in, bringing a dozen sheets of paper, scrawled all over with sketches of trains of cars going uphill.

“Oh, have you done that one?”

“Yes; I’m sure I’m right. The three first cars would have taut chains, being pulled by the front engine; and the three last cars would be pushed up close together, with their chains hanging limp, because they are pushed by the back engine.”

“Oh, Ken, of course that’s right! Thank you, heaps! Now I’ll get the other two, if I have to sit up all night to do it!”

“What are they?” asked Mr. Hepworth, conscious of a faint hope that he might yet be of assistance.

“One’s a charade,” answered Patty. “Here it is:

“‘’Tis futile, Son, my first to use
To change to yours another’s views;
For one convinced against his will
Is of the same opinion still.

“‘If e’er a letter you receive
From maiden fair; pray don’t believe
All that the note itself may say, —
But to my last attention pay.

“‘My total may be well employed
To still a molar’s aching void,
When stopping has not stopped the pain;
That tooth will never ache again!’

“I’ve worked on that a solid week, but I can’t get it.”

“Count me out, too,” said Philip Van Reypen; “charades are too many for me.”

“I’ll do that one for you, Patty,” said Mr. Hepworth, quietly. “Give me a copy to take home with me, and I’ll send you the answer to-night, or early in the morning.”

“Bless you, my angel!” cried Patty. “Will you, really? Why, Mr. Hepworth, I didn’t know you could guess charades.”

“I can’t!” said he, a little grimly; “but I’m going to, all the same. Good-bye, for now.”

And, with a do-or-die expression, Mr. Hepworth took leave of the group.

“Poor man!” said Nan, “he can’t guess it. He just wants to help you out, Patty.”

But Patty smiled and shook her head.

“Nay, nay, Nan,” she said; “if Mr. Hepworth says he’ll guess that thing, he will! It’s as good as done!”

“What faith!” murmured Van Reypen.

“Yes, indeed!” declared Patty. “Why, if I lost faith in Mr. Hepworth, I’d lose faith in the, – in the, – universe! I’ve known him for years, and he never fails me!”

“I guessed one!” said Kenneth, proudly.

“You did,” returned Patty, smiling on him; “and just for that I’m going to take you a whole block in my motor car!”

“Oh! how lovely. But, first, catch your car.”

“Now, what’s the only one left?” asked Philip, who wanted to distinguish himself again.