Patty Fairfield

"I think the house looks beautiful, uncle, just like Fairyland, with all the flowers and lights. And I think you are very kind to give this party for me."

"Well, well, child, we have to invite our friends occasionally, you know.

Have a good time, and I shall feel amply repaid for my outlay. Those

American Beauties are fine, aren't they?"

"Indeed they are," said Patty, sniffing at one that reached its rich redness temptingly towards her.

"Oh, don't do that! You'll spoil them. Those roses cost six dollars a dozen. But how fine you look in your new gew-gaws. Turn round, little one. Ah, we have no reason to feel ashamed of our Southern maid to-night."

Patty was glad her uncle was pleased, for she herself felt rather uncomfortable. Her dress, which was made with low neck and short sleeves, was of red silk gauze, with multifold short skirts, accordion-plaited, and edged with thick, full ruches. Great golden butterflies were embroidered at intervals all over the dress, while ribbons and flowers were attached wherever a place could be found for them.

Ethelyn had coaxed Patty to have her hair dressed high on her head, so Elise had arranged a marvelous coiffure which displayed jeweled pins and combs of many sorts, and a necklace and bracelets rivaled them in glitter. Red silk stockings, and red satin slippers with gilt butterflies on them completed this gorgeous costume, and when Patty saw herself in the long mirrors, she thought she looked like one of the paper fairies which she used to hang on her Christmas trees.

When the party began, she stood beside her aunt and Ethelyn and received the guests as they arrived.

About fifty boys and girls came, and to Patty they all seemed like overdressed and artificial little puppets.

The girls put on grown-up airs, walked with mincing steps and giggled behind their fans, while the boys were affected and absurdly formal.

Patty had thought there would be games or amusements of some youthful sort, but dancing and promenading alternated throughout the evening.

However, she was fond of dancing, and as she was quickly becoming a general favorite, her card was soon filled with the names of the nicest boys in the room.

It was all very pleasant for a short time, but soon Patty grew very tired and secretly longed for supper to be announced.

At last this came to pass, and the children marched out to the dining-room where another beautiful sight awaited them.

The caterers had been as skilful as the decorators, and the table was filled with marvelous confections of rich foods.

Patty had never seen such wonderful things, and she almost thought the pheasants were alive; and the big salmon looked as if it had just been taken from the water. Then there were salads and croquettes, and funny little paper dishes filled with strange, delicious mixtures, and after all these, came creams and jellies and ices, and cakes and bonbons in all sorts of odd shapes and colors.

Patty thought these things were too pretty to be eaten, but they were quickly demolished by the young people, who were hearty, hungry boys and girls, in spite of their affected manners.

After supper the dancing and promenading began again, and was kept up until midnight, and Patty was a very tired little girl after she had said good-night to all the guests and the last carriage had rolled away from Villa Rosa.

Ethelyn was tired too, and decidedly cross.

"I didn't have a very good time," she said; "that horrid old Gladys Mahoney had a prettier dress than mine; and I broke my new fan, and my slippers are so tight, they hurt me awfully." "Pooh, I know what makes you cross," said Reginald, "just 'cause Bob Burton didn't dance with you as much as he did with Mabel Miller."

"I'm not cross," retorted Ethelyn, "and I didn't want to dance with Bob Burton. If I were you, I'd try to learn some manners; Lou Smith says you're the rudest boy she ever saw."

"I don't care what Lou Smith says, little, freckle-faced thing! I don't see why she was invited here, anyway."

"Stop quarreling, children," said Mrs. St. Clair, "and go to bed at once. Patricia, I hope you enjoyed the party; I'm sure I tried to have it nice, but everything seemed to go wrong, the salad wasn't fit to eat and the ice cream was half melted."

"Why, Aunt Isabel," said Patty, "I think everything was lovely. I never saw such a supper-table in my life, and the decorations were exquisite."

"Well, I didn't think so. It does seem a shame to pay out so much money, and then not have things to your liking."

"Oh, the party was good enough," said Mr. St. Clair, "you're too fussy about trifles, Isabel. Come, children, scurry off to bed, you'll get no beauty sleep to-night, I fear."

Patty went to her room, and taking her mother's picture, sat down to talk to it, as she did nearly every night.

"Motherdy," she said, "if you had lived to take care of me, I don't believe you'd have liked the party we had to-night. The grown-upness of it was all out of proportion for children, I think, and,—as usual in this house, the expense was out of proportion to everything else. Why, Uncle Robert must have spent a thousand dollars for it,—maybe more,—he'll probably tell us to-morrow just how much everything cost. I liked some of the party,—the supper was lovely, but,—well, I reckon I ate out of proportion too. You see, little mother, it's very hard always to do just right. Now I'm going to bed, and I'm so sleepy, I don't know as I'll wake up before to-morrow afternoon."

She kissed the beautiful face, and putting the picture back where it belonged, she hopped into bed and was soon fast asleep.

CHAPTER VII

A SLEIGH-RIDE

The winter slipped away, and as Patty was a little girl who always looked on the bright side of things, she really had very good times at Ville Rosa.

She became a favorite with the Elmbridge boys and girls, and her unfailing good nature kept her from quarreling with her cousins though she was often sorely tried by them.

Lessons were a very uncertain quantity. Sometimes there would be none at all for a week or two weeks, and then perhaps school would keep regularly for a few days, only to be followed by another interruption.

Patty found it only too easy to fall into these careless ways, and if she had stayed all her life at Villa Rosa, I fear she would have become indolent and selfish, for the rule of the whole household seemed to be "Pleasure before Duty," and when that rule is followed it often happens that the duties are not done at all.

In January, to Patty's great delight, there came a heavy snowstorm.

It made fine sleighing, for the roads were in just the right condition and as the weather was clear and cold there was good prospect of many days' fun.

Uncle Robert, always ready to give the young people a good time, instigated a sleighing parade, in which all the society people of Elmbridge were invited to join.

It was to be a grand affair. Every sleigh was to be decorated in beautiful or unique fashion, and there was great rivalry among the families of Elmbridge as to whose sleigh should present the finest spectacle.

"Papa," said Ethelyn, "I shall drive Patricia in my little cutter, of course, and I want you to fix it up, somehow, so that it will beat everybody else all hollow."

"Ethelyn," said her mother, "if you don't stop using those slang phrases, you shan't go in the parade at all. Now promise to talk like a lady, and I'll see to it that your sleigh outshines all the rest."

"All right," said Ethelyn, "I'll promise. Now, how shall we decorate it?"

"Never mind," said her mother, "I wouldn't trust you with the secret. You'd tell everybody before the parade, and give them a chance to imitate it. But just wait and see. You and Patricia shall drive the most beautiful turnout in the whole line."

That day Mrs. St. Clair made a hurried trip to New York and came home with many mysterious packages, and other larger packages came by express. Mr. St. Clair came home early from his business and spent much of his time in the barn, and the preparations grew so exciting that both Patty and Ethelyn were on tiptoe with curiosity and anticipation. The parade was to start the next afternoon at two o'clock. Soon after luncheon, Mrs. St. Clair sent the girls to their rooms to dress for the great event.

Ethelyn gave a little scream of delight, as she saw new garments spread out on her bed, and Patty ran on to her own room to find similar ones there.

Each girl had a long coat of fine white broadcloth, made with a double cape-collar, and trimmed all round with white fur. A broad-brimmed white felt hat, with white ostrich plumes and a fleecy white feather boa, white gloves, and a white muff were there too; and even white shoes and white cloth leggings, so that when the cousins were dressed, there was not a touch of color about them, save their rosy faces and golden hair, and they looked like veritable snow-queens.

They danced down-stairs to find Cupid awaiting them with a brand-new sleigh.

Cupid was Ethelyn's pony, and he was pure white, every bit of him, and it was this fact that had suggested the whole scheme to Mr. St. Clair.

The new sleigh was pure white too, trimmed here and there with silver.