Books: Patty in Paris
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Carolyn Wells >> Patty in Paris
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"I shall enjoy the ocean trip," said Patty; "I've never been across, you
know. You've been a number of times, haven't you?"
"Yes, but not very lately. We used to go often when Roger and I were
little, but I haven't been over for six years, and then we weren't in
Paris."
"I'm sure I shall love Paris. Do you remember it well?"
"No; when I was there last I was too little to appreciate it, so we'll
explore it together, you and I. I wish Roger were going with us; it's
nice to have a boy along to escort us about."
"Yes, it is," said Patty frankly; "and Roger is so kind and good-
natured. When do we sail, Elise?"
"Two weeks from Saturday, I think. Father is going to see about the
tickets to-day. He waited to see your father yesterday, and make sure
that you could go. The whole thing has been planned rather suddenly, but
that's the way father always does things."
"And it's so fortunate," went on Patty, "that I hadn't started away to
college or boarding-school. Although if I had, and you had invited me, I
should have managed some way to get expelled from college, so I could go
with you. How long do you suppose we shall stay, Elise?"
"I don't know, I'm sure. You never can tell what the Farringtons are
going to do; they're here to-day and gone to-morrow. We'll stay all
winter, of course, and then in the spring, mother might take a notion to
go to London, or she might decide to come flying home. As for father,
he'll probably bob back and forth. He doesn't think any more of crossing
the ocean than of crossing the street. Have you much to do to get ready
to go?"
"No, not much. Nan says for me not to get a lot of clothes, for it's
better to buy them over there; and papa says I can buy all I want, only
of course I can't be as extravagant as you are."
"Oh, pshaw, I'm not extravagant! I don't care much about spending money,
only of course I like to have some nice things. And I do love to buy
pictures and books. But we'll have an awful lot of fun together. I think
it's fun just to be with you, Patty. And the idea of having you all to
myself for a whole winter, without Hilda, or Lorraine, or anybody
claiming a part of you, is the best of it all. I do love you a lot,
Patty, more than you realise, I think."
"You've set your affections on a worthless object, then; and I warn you
that before the winter is over you're likely to discover that for
yourself. You always did overestimate me, Elise."
"Indeed I didn't; but as you well know, from that first day at the
Oliphant school, when you were so kind to me, I've never liked anybody
half as much as I do you."
"You're extremely flattering," said Patty, as she kissed her friend,
"and I only hope this winter won't prove a disillusion."
"I'm not at all afraid," returned Elise gaily; "and oh, Patty, won't we
have a jolly time on board the steamer! It's a long trip, you know, and
we must take books to read and games to play, for as there'll probably
be mostly French people on board, we can't converse very much."
"You can," said Patty, laughing, "but I'm afraid no one can understand
my beautiful but somewhat peculiar accent."
III
SOUVENIRS
Marian came over to spend a few days with Patty before her departure.
She was frankly envious of Patty's good fortune, but more than that, she
was so desperately doleful at the thought of Patty's going away that she
was anything but a cheerful visitor.
Although sorry for her cousin, Patty couldn't help laughing at the
dejected picture that Marian continually presented. She followed Patty
around the house wherever she went, or she would sit and look at her
with her chin held in her hands, and the big tears rolling down her
cheeks.
"Marian, you are a goose," said Patty, exasperated by this performance.
"When I left Vernondale you cried and carried on just this way, but
somehow you seemed to live through it. And now that I live in New York
you don't see me so very often anyhow, so why should you be so
disconsolate about my going away?"
"Because you're going so far, and you'll probably be drowned--those
French steamers are ever so much more dangerous than the English lines--
and somehow I just feel as if you'd never come back."
"Well, the best thing you can do then is to change your feelings. I'll
be back before you hardly realise that I'm gone; and I'll bring you the
loveliest presents you ever saw."
This was a happy suggestion of Patty's, for Marian's tears ceased to
flow and she brightened up at once.
"Oh, Patty, that is just what I wanted to talk to you about! If you are
going to bring me anything in the way of a gift or a souvenir, wouldn't
you just as lieve I'd tell you what I want, as to have you pick it out
yourself, and likely as not bring me something I don't care for at all?
Everybody who brings me home souvenirs from Europe brings the most
hideous things, or else something that I can't possibly use."
"Why, Marian, dear, I'd be only too glad to have you tell me what you
want, and I'll do my best to select it just right."
"Well, Patty, I want a lot of photographs. The kind we get over here are
no good. But I've seen the ones that come from Paris, and they're just
as different as day and night. I'd like the Venus of Milo and the Mona
Lisa and the Victory and--oh, well--I'll make you out a list. There are
several Madonnas that I want, and several more that I DON'T want. And I
do NOT want any of Nattier's pictures or a "Baby Stuart," but I do want
some of Hinde's hair curlers--the tortoise-shell kind, I mean--and you
can only get them in Paris."
By this time Patty was shaking with laughter at Marian's list, and she
asked her if she didn't want anything else but photographs and hair
curlers.
"Why, yes," said Marian, astonished; "I've only just begun. You know
photographs don't cost much over there, and of course the curlers won't
count for a present. I thought you meant to bring me something nice."
"I do," said Patty, looking at her cousin, who was so comically in
earnest. "You just go on with your list, and I'll bring all the things,
if I have to buy an extra trunk to bring them in."
"All right, then," said Marian, encouraged to proceed. "I want a bead
bag--one of those gay coloured ones made of very small beads, worked in
old-fashioned flowers, roses, you know, or hibiscus--not on any account
the tulip pattern, because I hate it."
"You'd better write out these instructions, Marian, or I shall be sure
to get tulips by mistake."
"Don't you do it, Patty; I'll write them all down most explicitly. And
then I want a scarf, a very long one, cream-coloured ground, with a
Persian border in blues and greys. But not a palm-leaf border--I mean
that queer stencilled sort of a design; I'll draw a pattern of it so you
can't mistake it."
"But suppose I can't find just that kind, Marian."
"Oh, yes, you can! Ethel Holmes has one, and hers came from Paris. And
you've all winter to look for it, you know."
"Well, I'll devote the winter to the search, but if I don't find it
along toward spring I'll give it up. What else, Marian?"
"Well, I'd like a lot of Napoleon things. Some old prints of him, you
know, and perhaps a little bronze statuette, and a cup and saucer or
pen-wiper, or any of those things that they make with pictures of
Napoleon on. And then--oh! Patty, I do want some Cyclamen perfumery.
It's awfully hard to get. There's only one firm that makes it. I forget
the name, but it's Something Bros. & Co., and their place is across the
Seine."
"Across the Seine from what?"
"Why, just across. On the other side, you know. Of course I don't know
across from what, because I've never been to Paris; but everybody who
has lived there always just says 'across the Seine,' and everybody knows
at once where they mean. You'll know all right after you've lived there
a little while."
"Marian, you're a wonder," declared Patty. "I don't think I ever knew
anybody with such a perfect and complete understanding of her own wants
as you seem to have. I hope you haven't mentioned half the things I'm to
bring you, but don't tell me the rest now. I might change my mind about
going. But you buy a large blank book and write out all these orders at
full length, giving directions just when to cross the Seine and when to
cross back again, and I'll promise to do my very best with the whole
list."
"Patty, you're a darling," said Marian, "and I'm almost reconciled to
having you go when I think of having souvenirs brought to me that I
really want."
"Marian," said Patty, struck with a sudden thought, "your idea of the
difference between desirable and undesirable souvenirs is an interesting
one. Now I shall bring little gifts to all my friends and relatives, I
expect, and if you happen to know of anything that would be especially
liked by Uncle Charlie or Aunt Alice or any of your family, or the Tea
Club girls, I wish you'd make another list and put those things all down
for me. It would be the greatest kind of a help."
Marian promised to do this, and Patty felt sure that she would be glad
of the lists later on.
Aunt Isabel and Ethelyn also came to say good-bye to Patty, but their
demeanour was very different from Marian's.
Aunt Isabel was much impressed by the fact that Patty was going to
travel with the rich Farringtons, but she expressed a doubt as to
whether it would do Patty much good in a social way after all. For she
knew something of Mrs. Farrington's habits and tastes, and they in no
way corresponded to her own.
Ethelyn informed Patty that she need not bring her any souvenir unless
she could bring something really nice. "I do hate the little traps and
trinkets most people bring," she said; "but if you want to bring me a
bracelet or locket or something really worth while, I'd be glad to have
it."
"Well," exclaimed Patty, "I certainly have most outspoken cousins! They
don't seem to hesitate to tell me what to bring and what not to bring
them. But I'm sure of one thing! Bumble Barlow won't be so fussy
particular; she'll take whatever I bring and be thankful."
"So will I," said Nan, laughing; "anything no one else wants, Patty, you
may give it to me."
"Don't spend all your money buying presents, child," said Aunt Isabel;
"you'd better buy pretty clothes for yourself. I will give you a list of
the best places to shop."
"Thank you, Aunt Isabel, I'll take the list with pleasure; but of course
my purchases will be at the advice of Mrs. Farrington. She dresses Elise
quite simply, and will probably expect me to do the same."
Aunt Isabel sniffed. "You ought to have gone to Paris with me," she
said. "You're growing up to be a good-looking girl, Patty, and the right
kind of clothes would set you off wonderfully."
Patty said nothing, but as she glanced at Ethelyn's furbelows she felt
thankful she was not going to Paris with Aunt Isabel.
But Patty found that there was quite a great deal of shopping to be done
before she sailed.
Nan took these matters in charge and declared that Patty needed a
complete though not an elaborate steamer outfit.
Nan dearly loved buying pretty clothes and was quite in her element
making Patty's purchases. A dark blue tailor-made cloth, trimmed with
touches of green velvet, was chosen for her travelling costume.
Her "going-away dress" Marian persisted in calling it, just as if Patty
were a bride; but as Marian burst into tears every time she mentioned
Patty's going away, her words were so indistinct that it mattered little
what terms she used.
Then Nan selected one or two pretty light gowns of a somewhat dressy
nature for dinner on board the steamer, and one or two simple evening
gowns for the ship's concert or other festive occasions. A white serge
suit was added for pleasant afternoons on deck, and some dainty kimonos
and negligees for stateroom use.
Patty was delighted with all these things, but could scarcely take time
to appreciate them, as she found so many other things to do by way of
her own preparations. So many people came to see her and she had to go
to see so many other people. Then she had to have her photographs taken
to leave with her friends, and she was constantly being invited to
little farewell luncheons or teas.
"Indeed," as Patty expressed it, "the whole two weeks of preparation
seems like one long, lingering farewell; and when I'm not saying good-
bye to any one else, I'm trying to stop Marian's freshly flowing tears."
The girls bought Patty parting gifts, and though they were all either
useful or pretty, Patty appreciated far more the loving spirit which
prompted them.
"I made this all myself," said Hilda, as she brought Patty a dainty
sleeping gown of blue and white French flannel, "because it's utterly
impossible to buy this sort of thing ready-made and have it just right.
If you don't say this is just right I'll never make you another as long
as I live."
"It's exactly right, Hilda," said Patty, taking the pretty garment. "I
know I shall dream of you whenever I wear it, and that's too bad, too,
for I ought to devote some of my dreams to other people."
"This is a cabin bag," said Lorraine, bringing her offering. "I didn't
make it myself, because this is so much neater and prettier than a
homemade one. You see it has a pocket for everything that you can
possibly require, from hairpins to shoehorn. Not that you'll put
anything in the pockets--nobody ever does--but it will look pretty
decorating your cabin wall."
"Indeed I shall put things in it," said Patty. "I'm a great believer in
putting things in their right places, and I shall think of you,
Lorraine, whenever I'm trying to get the things out of these dinky
little pockets, and probably not succeeding very well."
"This is my gift," said Adelaide Hart; "it isn't very elaborate, but I
made it all myself, and that means a good deal from me."
Patty opened the parcel and found a piece of cretonne about a yard
square, neatly hemmed along each of the four sides, and having a tape
loop sewed on each corner.
"It's perfectly beautiful," said Patty, "and I never saw more exquisite
needlework; but would you mind telling me what it is for? It can't be a
handkerchief, but I don't know of anything else that's exactly square."
"How ignorant you are," said Adelaide with pretended superiority. "That,
my inexperienced friend, is a wrap for your best hat."
"Oh," said Patty, not much enlightened.
"You see," Adelaide kindly went on to explain, "as soon as you get on
board your steamer you take off your best hat and put it exactly in the
middle of this square, having first spread the square out smoothly on
the bed or somewhere. Then you take up these four corners by the loops
and hang the whole thing on the highest hook in your stateroom. Thus,
you see, your best hat is carried safely across; it is not jammed or
crushed, and it is protected from dust."
"I see," said Patty gravely; "and I suppose the dust is something awful
on an ocean steamer."
The laugh seemed to be on Adelaide at this, but she joined in it and
prophesied that when Patty returned she would confess that that gift had
proved the most useful of all.
Clementine Morse brought a large post-card album which she had filled
with views of New York City.
"I know you will be homesick before you're out of sight of land," she
said; "but if you're not you ought to be, and I hope these pictures will
make you so. When you look at this highly colored representation of
Grant's tomb and realise that it is but a few miles from your own long-
lost hearthstone, I'm sure you will feel qualms of patriotism--or
something."
"I think very likely," said Patty, laughing. "But, Clementine, how many
trunks do you suppose I shall need to hold my farewell gifts? This album
will take up considerable space."
"I know it," said Clementine, "but you needn't put it in your trunk. You
can carry it on board in your hand, and then when you go ashore you can
carry it in your hand. I don't believe they will charge you duty on it,
especially as it will probably be nearly worn out by that time."
"I'm sure it will," said Patty, "not only from my own constant use of
it, but I know everybody on board will want to borrow it and enjoy these
works of art."
"Yes," agreed Clementine; "and then, Patty, when you're in Paris you can
throw away all these New York cards and fill it up with Paris views and
bring it home and give it back to me."
"I certainly will, Clem; that's a first-rate idea."
Mary Sargent brought a French phrase book. It was entitled "French
Before Breakfast," and as Mary explained that the French people never
had breakfast until noon, Patty would have ample time to study it.
Patty accepted the little book with many thanks and promised Mary she
would never eat breakfast, at noon or any other hour, until she had
thoroughly mastered at least one of the phrases.
CHAPTER IV
AN AQUATIC PARTY
Of course all were agreed that Patty must have a farewell party of some
sort; and as Nan dearly loved elaborate affairs, she had decided that it
should be an Aquatic Party.
Patty frankly confessed her ignorance as to what an Aquatic Party might
be, whereupon Nan informed her that she had only to wait until the
occasion itself to find out.
So busy was Patty herself that she took no hand in the preparations for
the party, and indeed Nan required no help. That capable and energetic
young matron secured the services of some professional decorators and
able-bodied workmen, but the direction and superintendence was entirely
in her own hands.
Patty was consulted only in regard to her own costume for the occasion.
"You see," said Nan, coming into Patty's room one morning, "I don't know
whether you would rather say good-bye to your friends in the guise of a
kelpie or a pixy or a jelly-fish."
"Cut out the jelly-fish," said Patty, laughing, "for they're horrid,
floppy old things, I'm sure. As to the others, what's the difference
between a kelpie and a pixy?"
"Oh, a great deal of difference," declared Nan, wagging her head wisely;
"a kelpie is an imaginary water sprite, you know, and a pixy is a--a--
why, a sort of make-believe fairy who lives in the water."
"Well, I'm glad that you see a difference in your two definitions. For
my part I don't see anything to hinder my being a kelpie and a pixy
both, even if I'm not twins."
"Well, they're not so very different, you know. One is a kelpie, and one
is a pixy; that's about all the difference."
Patty laughed. "Well, if it will help you out any to have me make a
choice," she said, "I'll choose to be a kelpie. What's the latest thing
in kelpie costumes?"
"Oh, it will be lovely, Patty! I'll have it made of pale green silk,
with a frosted, silvery, shimmering effect, you know, and draped with
trailing green seaweed and water grasses."
"Lovely!" agreed Patty. "And what would the pixy costume have been, if I
had chosen that?"
"Just the same," confessed Nan, laughing; "but it's easier to have
something definite to work at. You can wear my corals, Patty, and, with
your hair down, you'll be a perfect kelpie."
Patty smiled at her young stepmother's enthusiasm, and Nan ran away to
begin preparations for the kelpie costume.
The night of the party the whole Fairfield house was so transformed that
it must scarcely have recognised itself.
The large front drawing-room represented the arctic regions in the
vicinity of the North Pole. Frames had been erected which, when covered
with sheets, simulated peaks of snowy mountains and snow-covered
icebergs. Here and there signs, apparently left by explorers, told the
latitude and longitude, and a flag marked the explorations Farthest
North. Over these snow peaks scrambled white polar bears in most
realistic fashion, and in one corner an Esquimau hut was built.
The ceiling represented a clear blue sky, and the floor the blue water
of the open polar sea.
By a clever arrangement of electric lights through colored shades a fair
representation of the Aurora Borealis was made to appear at intervals.
The library, which was back of the drawing-room, had been transformed
into an aquarium. All round the walls, waves of blue-green gauze
simulated water, in which papier-mache fish were gliding and swimming.
The illusion was heightened by other fishes, which, being suspended from
the ceiling by invisible threads, seemed to be swimming through the air.
Altogether the effect, if not entirely realistic, was picturesque and
amusing, and coral reefs and rocky cliffs covered with seaweed gave
aquatic impressions, even if not entirely logical.
But Nan's pride was what she chose to call the Upper Deck. This was a
room on the second floor, a large front room, which had been made to
represent the upper deck of a handsome yacht. Sail-cloth draped and held
up by poles formed the roof and sides, and a realistic railing
surrounded it. A dozen or more steamer chairs stood in line, strewn with
rugs, pillows and paper-backed novels. Coils of rope, lanterns, life-
preservers, and other paraphernalia added to the realism of the scene,
and at one side a carefully constructed window opened into the steward's
cabin. The steward himself, white-duck-suited and white-capped, was
prepared to serve light refreshments exactly after the fashion of a
correct yachting party.
When the guests began to arrive and were dressed in various costumes,
each representing some type or phase of water pleasures, the scene took
on a gay and festive air.
Patty's kelpie costume was a great success, and the girl never looked
prettier than as she stood receiving her guests in the pretty green silk
gown, trailing with seaweed and shimmering with silver dust. Her curly
golden hair was wreathed with soft green water-grasses, and her rosy
cheeks and dancing eyes made her look like a mischievous water sprite.
Nan's own costume was that of a fish-wife, and though very different
from Patty's, it had all the picturesqueness of the quaint costume of
the Breton fisher-folk. A basket slung over her shoulder held realistic-
looking fishes, and Nan looked quite as if she might have stepped out of
the frame of a picture in the French Academy.
Mr. Fairfield, not without some difficulty, had been induced to
represent Neptune. False flowing white hair and beard, a shining crown
and trident, and a voluminous sea-green robe made him a gorgeous sight.
The three stood near the North Pole to receive their guests, and
formality was almost lost sight of in the hilarity caused by the
procession of picturesque costumes.
There were pirates of fierce and bloodthirsty mien; there were jolly
Jack Tars and natty ship officers; there were water babies, mermaids,
fishermen, and many dainty yachting costumes. Then there were queer and
grotesque figures, such as a frog, a lobster, and a huge crab.
Altogether the motley procession presented a most interesting
appearance, and Patty was glad when the guests had all arrived and she
could leave her post and mingle with the crowd.
It was not long before a group of Patty's most intimate friends had
gathered on the Upper Deck to chat. Patty herself had been snugly tucked
into a deck chair by Kenneth, who insisted on showing her just how the
proceeding should be accomplished.
"Nothing shows your ignorance, my child, on board ship," he was saying,
"like not knowing how to manage your steamer rug and pillow."
"But," said Patty, "I shall then have on a suitable gown that will stand
rough usage; but I beg of you, Ken, stop tucking that rug around my
delicate kelpie decorations.
"Oh," said Kenneth, "you're a kelpie, then! Strange I didn't recognise
you at once, but I so rarely meet kelpies in the best society. Now I'm
Captain Kidd."
"Are you?" cried Elise gaily; "now I had an idea you were Admiral
Farragut; but then one so rarely meets Captain Kidd in the best
society."
"That's so," said Kenneth; "and think how long it will be, girls, before
you have the pleasure of meeting this particular Captain Kidd in any
society. I tell you, I envy you. You're going to have the time of your
life in Paris, and I wish to goodness I could go along with you."
"Oh, do, Kenneth," cried Patty; "we'd have just the best time ever!
Can't you give up college and put in a lot of study over there?"
"No, indeed, I can't; I'm only just wishing I could. There's no harm in
wishing, you know. But if you'll stay until next summer, perhaps I'll
come over and see you during vacation, and then we can all come home
together."
"That would be fine," said Elise, "and we're just as likely to stay
until summer as not. But then, on the other hand, we're just as likely
to come home as soon as we get there. You never can tell what those
absurd parents of mine are going to do."
Meantime a strange-looking figure was walking across the Upper Deck
toward the group that surrounded Patty. It was impossible not to
recognise the character, which was meant to be a representation of Noah.
But it was the well-known Noah of the children's Noah's ark, and the
straight-up-and-down, tightly fitting brown garment, with yellow buttons
down the front, was exactly like the patriarch as shown in the wooden
toys. A flat, broad-brimmed hat sat squarely on his head, and as he held
his arms straight down at his side, and as his cheeks bore little round
daubs of red paint, Mr. Hepworth was exactly like a gigantic specimen of
the nursery Noah.
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