Patty's Motor Car

“Oh, just a simple conundrum,” said Patty. “What is lower with a head on it than without one?”

“That sounds simple, but it isn’t easy,” said Philip, after a few moments’ thoughts. “Nails, – pins, – cabbage heads, – nothing seems to be the right idea.”

And, try as they would, they couldn’t think of anything that led to the right answer.

The boys went home, declaring they’d think it up, and Patty mulled it over in her mind all the evening, without result.

Then she went to bed, declaring she’d dream of the answer.

The next morning she overslept, and Nan, fearing she would be late with her list of answers, went to waken her.

“Wake up, you little April Fool,” she cried, gently pulling Patty’s gold curls.

“Oh, Nan! is it morning? I’m so sleepy!”

“But you must wake up! It’s the First of April, and you must win that motor car to-day or never!”

Patty raised her head, and then dropped it back on the pillow.

“I can’t get my head up,” she said; “it’s too heavy. I guess I’ll give up the motor car. I’d rather keep my head on the pillow. Oh, Nan!” and suddenly Patty sprang up, with a wild yell.

“That’s it! I’ve got it! Hurrah!”

“Mercy, Patty, do keep quiet. What’s the matter?”

“Why, that’s it! the last puzzle! What is lower with a head on it than without one? Answer: a Pillow! See?”

“Patty, you’re crazy! I suppose that is the answer, but I think it’s silly.”

“No, it isn’t; not as puzzles go! Oh, Nan, now I have them all!”

“Not the one Mr. Hepworth took away.”

“He’ll get it back in time. You see if he doesn’t! Oh, Nan, Hooray with me!”

“I won’t. You’ve made noise enough to frighten the whole block now! Do quiet down, Patty, and get dressed.”

“All right, I will,” said Patty, in a whisper, and Nan went away, laughing.

Patty went down to breakfast in a very happy frame of mind, and announced to her father that the motor car was as good as won.

“Why do you feel so sure of Mr. Hepworth’s puzzle?” asked her father, a little curiously. “He never solved a charade before.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Patty, with supreme confidence. “He said he’d do it. If he hadn’t known he could do it, he wouldn’t have said he would do it.”

“Oh, stop, Patty!” cried Nan. “You talk like a puzzle, yourself. Don’t get the habit, I beg.”

“I won’t. But now I must go and copy my answers neatly, and by that time Mr. Hepworth’s will be here, and I’ll send ’em off about noon.”

Patty spent a happy morning copying her answers in her neat script, and looking with pride at her complete list.

At last it was all done, and she had left a vacant space to insert the answer to the charade when Mr. Hepworth should send it. But at noon it had not arrived, and she had had no word from him.

“Telephone, and ask him about it,” suggested Nan, as they sat at luncheon.

“No,” said Patty, “he said he’d send it, and I’ll wait for him.”

“How long can you wait?”

“Why, the only stipulation is that the list of answers shall be postmarked not later than April first; but I hate to wait till the last mail.”

“So should I; do telephone, Patty.”

“No, not yet. He’ll send it.”

The afternoon dragged by, with no word from Mr. Hepworth. At four o’clock, Nan went to Patty’s room.

“Dearie,” she said, “don’t lose your whole effort by a bit of stubbornness. Mr. Hepworth must have forgotten to send his answer – or, perhaps, he sent it by a messenger, and it went to the wrong place.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” said Patty, shaking her head. “He’ll guess it, and, as soon as he does, he’ll telephone me. I know him.”

“I know him, too, and I know his faithfulness. But mistakes do happen sometimes. If you’d only telephone, – or let me.”

“No, Nannie,” said Patty, gently. “This is my picnic, and I shall conduct it in my own way. And I won’t telephone Mr. Hepworth, if I have to send the answers with one missing.”

And then the telephone bell rang!

And it was Mr. Hepworth calling.

“I’ve guessed it!” he said, breathlessly, but triumphant. “But it’s rather complicated, and I can’t explain it very well over the telephone. I’ll come right over. Is there time?”

“Yes,” returned Patty; “come on. Good-bye.”

She hung up the receiver, and turned to Nan with an “I told you so” expression on her face.

“But it was a narrow escape,” said Nan.

“Not at all,” said Patty.

Then Mr. Hepworth came.

He looked calm and smiling as ever, and showed no trace of his sleepless night and anxious hard-working day.

“It’s ‘Forceps,’” he said, as soon as he had greeted them; “but it isn’t a fair charade at all. A charade should be divided into its two or more legitimate syllables. But this one is divided ‘Force’ and ‘P.S.’ You see, the P.S. is referred to as the principal part of a lady’s letter.”

“Oh, that old joke!” cried Nan.

“Yes. But, if it hadn’t been for that old joke, I never could have guessed it. For that was what put me on the right track. But the whole charade is distinctly unfair in its construction.”