Books: Patty in Paris
C >>
Carolyn Wells >> Patty in Paris
Pages:
1 |
2 | 3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12
He came across the deck with a staggering, uncertain motion, as if the
ship were rolling and pitching about. His realistic acting made them all
laugh, and when he dropped into a deck chair and, calling the steward,
asked faintly for a cup of weak tea, Patty declared she believed she
wouldn't go to Paris after all.
"For I'm sure," she said, "that I don't want to go wabbling across a
deck and looking as ill and woebegone as you do."
Mr. Hepworth smiled at her. "You'll have so many remedies and
preventives given you," he said, "and you'll be so busy pitching them
overboard that you won't have time to be seasick. Really I don't believe
you'll think of such a thing all the way over, let alone experiencing
it."
"You're a great comfort," said Patty heartily; "you always tell me the
most comforting things. Now everybody else declares that after I've been
at sea for a day I'll be so ill that I won't care whether I live or
die."
"Nonsense," declared Mr. Hepworth; "don't pay any attention to such
croakings."
"I agree with you," said Elise. "I've made up my mind that I'm not going
to be seasick, but I'm going to have a perfectly jolly time all the way
across."
"Of course you'll have jolly times," said Marian, who was in one of her
doleful moods; "but think of us who are left behind! We won't have any
jolly time until you come back again."
"Oh, I don't know!" said Kenneth. "Of course I'm devoted to these two
girls, but I'm not going to let it blight my young existence and crush
my whole career, just because I have to live without them for six
months."
"But you don't love Patty as I do," said Marian with a sigh, as she
gazed at her adored cousin.
"No, Marian, I don't," said Kenneth; "not as YOU do, for I assume that
you love her as a first cousin. Now my affection for Patty is more on
the order of a grandmother's brother-in-law once removed. You can't be
too careful about the exact type of attachment you feel for a young
lady, and I think that expresses my regard for Patty. Now toward Elise I
feel more like a great niece's uncle's brother-in-law. There is a very
subtle distinction between the two, but I know that both girls are
acutely aware of the exact kind and degree of my regard for them."
"I am, anyway," said Patty; "and I must say, Ken, that it's much easier
to leave you, with that definite affection of yours, than it is to go
away from Marian and leave her floundering in her deep and somewhat damp
woe."
Marian vouchsafed a sad sort of smile, and said it was all very well for
them to make fun of her, but she couldn't help missing Patty.
"Nobody can help missing Patty," declared Mr. Hepworth; "and for my
part, if I find that I miss her very much I shall go straight over to
Paris and bring her back."
"I hope you will," cried Patty; "that is, I hope you'll come over, and
perhaps we can persuade you not to be in such a dreadful hurry to come
back."
"I had expected to run over in the early spring, anyway," said Mr.
Hepworth carelessly, as if it were a matter of no moment; "I want to do
certain French sketches that I've had my mind on for some time."
"Well, if you do come," said Elise cordially, "come right to our house
and I know we can put you up. The Farringtons are erratic, but always
hospitable; and I hereby invite this whole crowd to visit us in Paris,
either jointly or severally, whenever the spirit moves you."
"If I find a spirit that can move me over to Paris, I shall come often,"
declared Kenneth; "but I'm afraid I'm too substantially built to be
wafted across the ocean in the clutches of any spirit."
Just then the notes of a bugle sounded clear and sweet from below.
"That's the ship's bugler," declared Mr. Hepworth, "and that's the bugle
call for supper. Shall we go down and refresh ourselves?"
"Yes, indeed," cried Patty, jumping from her nest of steamer rugs; "I'm
as hungry as a hawk."
But it somehow happened that all of the gay young crowd left the Upper
Deck to go to the supper room before Patty and Mr. Hepworth started. He
detained her for a moment while he said: "Little girl, will you miss me
while you're away?"
"Even if I expected to I wouldn't own up to it," said Patty, as she gave
him a mischievous glance.
"Why wouldn't you own up to it?" Mr. Hepworth spoke quite seriously and
looked intently at the pretty face before him, with its golden hair
crowned by the shining green sea-wreath.
"I don't know," said Patty slowly. She felt herself forced by his
impelling gaze to raise her eyes to his, and for the first time it
occurred to her that Mr. Hepworth felt more interest in her than she had
ever suspected. "I don't know why I wouldn't own up to it, I'm sure,"
she went on; "in fact, now that I come to think of it, I believe I
should own up to it."
"Well, own it then. Tell me you will miss me, and will sometimes wish I
might be with you."
"Oh," cried Patty, laughing merrily, "I only meant I would own it if it
were true. Of course I sha'n't really miss you; there'll be so much to
amuse and interest me that I sha'n't have time to miss anybody except
papa and Nan."
"That's just what I thought," said Mr. Hepworth.
CHAPTER V
GOOD-BYES
At last the day of sailing came. The steamer was to leave her dock at
three o'clock on Saturday afternoon, and soon after two Patty went on
board, accompanied by Nan and her father.
A crowd of friends had also gathered to bid Patty goodspeed, and besides
these the Farringtons had many friends there to say good-bye to them.
With the exception of Marian, it was not a sad parting. Indeed it seemed
rather a hilarious occasion than otherwise. This was partly because most
of the persons concerned felt truly sorry to miss Patty's bright
presence out of their lives, and feared that if they showed any regret
the situation might become too much for them.
Hilda and Lorraine felt this especially, and they were so absurdly gay
that it was quite clear to Patty that their gaiety was assumed. But she
was grateful to them for it, for, as she had previously confided to Nan,
she didn't want a weepy, teary crowd to bid her good-bye; she wanted to
go away amid laughter and smiles.
As the brief hour before sailing passed, more and more people came to
see them off, and Patty began to think that everybody she ever knew
would be there.
Many of the friends brought gifts, and many had already sent fruit or
flowers, both to the Farringtons and to Patty. Down in the dining-saloon
a whole table was occupied with the gifts to their party, and more than
a fair proportion of these belonged to Patty. She was quite bewildered,
for sailing away from her native land was a new experience to her, and
it had never occurred to her that it would include this elaborate
profusion of farewell gifts.
There was a great basket of red roses from Winthrop Warner, and Bertha
had sent a box of candy. Roger had sent candy, too, and Kenneth had sent
a beautiful basket of fruit that seemed to include every known variety.
Nor were the gifts only from Patty's intimate friends. She was surprised
to learn how many of her acquaintances and relatives and casual friends
had sent a token of good wishes for her voyage. The truth is that Patty
was a general favourite and made friends with all whom she met.
Mr. Hepworth had once told her that she was a Dispenser of Happiness. If
so, she was now reaping the reward, for her friends had surely showered
happiness upon her.
And besides the table full of gifts there were many letters and
telegrams in the ship's little post-office. These delighted Patty, too,
and she laid the budget aside to enjoy after the trip had fairly begun.
Among the last to arrive was Mr. Hepworth. He brought no fruit or
flowers, but he was followed by a messenger boy fairly staggering under
the weight of his burden.
"I knew, Patty," he said, "that you'd have all the flowers and fruit and
sweets you could possibly want, so I've brought you a different kind of
gift."
"There seems to be plenty of it," said Patty as she looked at the small
boy. His arms were full of papers and magazines, which, as they
afterward discovered, included every newspaper, magazine, and weekly
periodical published in New York.
"You know," said Mr. Hepworth, "you can't get current reading matter
after you start, and a good deal of this stuff you won't find in Paris,
either; though you can get American publications there more easily than
you can in London. But read what you want, Patty, and pitch the rest
overboard."
The boy was directed to carry his load to Patty's stateroom and deposit
it there. Patty thanked Mr. Hepworth for his thoughtful gift, and said
she would read every word of it and probably carry a great deal of it
ashore with her.
"Come on, Patty," said Kenneth, "we're going to see where your deck
chairs are, so we can have a mental picture of just how you're going to
look for the next week or so."
About a dozen merry young people trooped up the next deck and found the
chairs that had been reserved for the Farrington party. But when Patty
saw them she burst out laughing. The two that were intended for herself
and Elise had been decorated in an absurd fashion. They were tied with
ribbon bows and bunches and garlands of flowers. They were filled with
fancy pillows, and tied on in several places were letters and small
packages done up in paper.
"They look like ridiculous Christmas trees," cried Patty. "I'm crazy to
open those bundles, for I know they're full of foolishness that you
girls have rigged up for us."
"Don't open them now," said Hilda, "for we have to leave you and go
ashore in a few moments. Now, Patty, you will write to us, won't you?"
"I rather think I will," cried Patty; "you've all been so good to me I
never could thank you enough if I wrote every day and all day."
"Come with me, Patty," said Kenneth; "I want to show you something up at
this end of the ship."
So Patty went off with Kenneth, and when they were well away from the
laughing crowd he drew a small box from his pocket and gave it to her,
saying: "Patty, you mustn't think I'm a sentimental fool, for I'm not;
but I wish you'd wear that while you're away, and sometimes think of
me."
Patty flashed a comical glance at him.
"Good gracious, Ken," she exclaimed, "it's an awful funny thing, this
going away; it makes all your friends so serious and so afraid you'll
forget them. Of course I shall think of you while I'm away."
"Who else has been asking you to think of him?" growled Kenneth; "that
ridiculous Hepworth, I suppose! Well, now look here, miss, you're to
think of me twice to his once. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, I understand," said Patty demurely; "and now may I look in the box
before I promise to wear your gift? It might be a live beetle. I saw a
lady once who wore a live beetle attached to a tiny gold chain. Oh, it
was awful!"
"It isn't a live beetle," said Kenneth, smiling, "but it is attached to
a tiny gold chain. Yes, of course you may look at it, and if you don't
like it you needn't wear it."
So Patty opened the box and discovered a little gold locket, set with
tiny pearls and hanging from a slender gold chain. It was very graceful
and dainty, and Patty's first impulse was one of delight. But as she
looked up and met Kenneth's serious gaze she suddenly wondered if she
were promising too much to say she would wear it.
"What's inside of it?" she inquired, as if to gain time.
"Look and see."
Patty opened the locket and found it contained a most attractive picture
of Kenneth's handsome, boyish face.
"What a splendid likeness!" she exclaimed; "you're awfully good-looking,
Ken, and I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll wear the locket with pleasure--
sometimes, you know, not all the time, of course--until I find somebody
who is handsomer than you, or--whom I like better."
"Pooh," cried Kenneth, "I don't care how often you replace it with a
picture of a handsomer man, but, Patty, I don't want you to find any one
you like better. Promise me you won't."
"Oh, I can't promise that, Ken. Just think of the fascinating Frenchmen
I shall probably meet, with their waxed moustaches and their dandified
manners. How can I help liking them better than a plain, unvarnished
American boy?"
"All right, my lady; if you set your affections on a French popinjay,
I'll come over there and fight a duel with him. I know you're too
sensible to look at those addle-pated dandies, but I wish you'd promise
not to like anybody better than THIS plain, unvarnished American boy."
"I won't promise you anything, Ken," said Patty, not unkindly, but with
a gentle, definite air. "I thank you for your locket. It is beautiful,
and I do love pretty things. I'll wear it sometimes; let me see, to-day
is Saturday; well, I'll wear it every Saturday; that will insure your
being thought of at least once a week."
And with this Kenneth had to be content, for a roguish laugh appeared in
Patty's eyes and he knew she would not treat matters seriously any
further.
Dropping the locket in her little handbag, Patty turned to go back to
the others.
"But you're not keeping your promise," said Kenneth, detaining her.
"What promise?"
"You said you'd wear the locket on Saturdays, and to-day is Saturday."
Patty was a little embarrassed. She knew if she went back to the group
with the trinket hanging round her neck, every one would know at once
that Kenneth had given it to her, and they would surmise far more than
the simple, truth. And she was especially conscious that Mr. Hepworth
would notice it, and would think it meant all Kenneth had wanted it to
mean, which was far more than she had accepted it as meaning.
Kenneth saw her hesitation and stood watching her.
"Wear it, dear," he said quietly; "an old friend like myself has a
perfect right to give you a little keepsake." Then Patty had an
inspiration. She clasped the little chain about her neck and then tucked
the locket down inside her collar so that it was entirely out of sight.
"You little witch!" cried Kenneth as she raised her laughing eyes to
his; "but at any rate you're wearing it, and that's all I asked of you."
"Yes," said Patty; and, as gaily and unaffectedly as a child, she
grasped Kenneth's hand and ran down the long deck to join the others.
Although determined to ignore the episode, Patty's cheeks bore a
heightened colour and she let poor Kenneth severely alone, devoting her
attention to the others.
But it was nearly time: for the last farewell to be said, and indeed
some of the party had said good-bye and left the steamer.
And then again Patty was carried off for a little confidential talk at
the other end of the deck, and this time it was by her father.
He seemed to have many final bits of advice to give her regarding the
minutiae of her journey, her money matters, her relation toward the
Farringtons, and her correct demeanour in many ways.
"I'm not at all afraid to trust you out of my sight, Patty, girl," he
said, "for I have absolute faith in your common sense and your good
judgment. I know you won't do anything wrong or unladylike, but I want
to warn you, my little girl, not to get mixed up in any romantic
adventures. You're altogether too young for that sort of thing, and I
warn you I sha'n't allow you to be engaged to anybody for years and
years to come." Patty laughed merrily at this. "Indeed, papa," she said,
"nothing is further from my mind than any such performance as you
suggest, and I haven't the slightest desire to think of being engaged
until I'm at least as old as Nan. And anyway, I don't believe anybody
would like me well enough to want to be engaged to me. Oh--that is--
unless it might be Kenneth."
And then Patty told her father the whole story of Kenneth and the
locket.
"You did just right, Patty," said her father. "Kenneth is a nice boy,
but he is altogether too young, and you are, too, to attach any
sentimental significance to his gift. Wear the locket if you want to, or
when you want to, but let it be understood that it means nothing more
than the merest friendly keepsake."
"Yes, that's just what I think," said Patty, with an air of satisfaction
at this prosaic settlement of the subject. "Oh, papa, you're the only
one I'm going to miss very much, you and Nan; but especially you."
"I know it, my girl; we have been a great deal to each other all these
years, and of course we shall miss each other. But the time will soon
pass away, and since we have to part we must be brave about it, and we
must not spoil the happiness of it by the sorrow of it."
"Dear papa," said Patty, squeezing his hand, "you are always so wise and
good. That's just the point; we must not spoil the happiness by the
sorrow, though that is what Marian is always trying to do. Poor Marian,
she's such a pathetic creature; I wish she would cheer up."
"I think she will, Patty. Nan and I are going to take her home with us
and keep her for a fortnight or more, and we'll make her so gay that
she'll forget you're gone."
"Good for you, papa; that's lovely! You do think of the nicest things
for people!"
"Well, now, chickabiddy, I suppose I'll have to leave you. Keep up a
good heart and a spirit of cheerfulness. Stick to your sense of
proportion and your sense of humor. Remember that the time will soon
pass, and pass happily, too; and then you'll come sailing back to this
very dock, and I'll be here waiting for you."
They rejoined the group and then the farewells began in earnest. Patty
was embraced and kissed by all the girls, until Nan declared there would
be nothing left for her to say good-bye to. The men shook hands and
expressed hearty good wishes, and with one last kiss from her father
Patty was left alone with the Farringtons.
As the steamer sailed away there was much waving of handkerchiefs and
flags, and the friends on shore were kept in sight just as long as
possible.
But when they could no longer be distinguished, Patty said: "Come on,
Elise; let's do something to occupy our minds, or I feel sure I shall
cry like a baby in spite of my noble and brave resolutions."
"All right," said Elise, "I'm with you. Let's go down and put things to
rights in our stateroom."
So down they went on their errand. The girls were to share the same
stateroom, and as it was large and conveniently arranged, they were glad
to be together. But as they entered the door they nearly fell over in
astonishment, for sitting on the sofa, with his paws extended in
welcome, was a very large, very white, and very fleecy "Teddy Bear." In
one paw he held a card on which was written:
Oh Patty dear,
Oh Elise dear,
We don't want you to go away;
But if you will,
Keep with you still
This merry little stowaway.
CHAPTER VI
THE OLD MA'AMSELLE
The girls laughed heartily over the Teddy Bear, and agreed that it was a
delightful companion for their trip. Elise set him up on the little
shelf above the washstand, and he gazed down upon them like a fat and
good-natured patron saint. Patty named him Yankee Doodle, and gave him
an American flag to hold; but Elise, not wishing to seem to slight the
French nation, gave him a silken tri-colour of France to hold in his
other paw. Apparently unprejudiced in his sympathies, Yankee Doodle held
both flags, and continued to wear his jolly and complacent grin.
It was great fun for the girls to arrange their stateroom. As they
expected to occupy it for the next ten days, they proceeded to make it
as homelike as possible. They both had so many cabin bags and wall
pockets and basket catchalls which had been parting gifts that it was
difficult to find wall space for them all. Patty was to occupy the lower
berth and Elise the wide and comfortable sofa. For they concluded they
could chatter better if on a level. This left the upper berth as a broad
shelf for books and magazines, boxes of candy, and all the odds and ends
of their belongings.
"Isn't it perfectly wonderful," said Patty, "to think we are already
miles away from land, and dancing away over this blue water!"
As Patty was standing on the sofa, with her head stuck out through the
porthole, Elise could not hear a word of this speech; so unless the
fishes were interested it was entirely lost. But this mattered little to
Patty, and soon she pulled her head in and made the same remark over
again.
"Well," said Elise, who was matter-of-fact, "when people take passage on
an ocean steamer they often expect to get a few miles away from land
after they start."
"Oh, Elise," cried Patty, "have you no imagination? Of course it isn't
wonderful to consider the FACT of our sailing out to sea, but the IDEA
of dancing away over the blue water is poetic and therefore wonderful."
"I'm glad you explained it to me, and I dare say the more the ship
dances, the more wonderful it will be. And so let's get these things
straightened out before the dancing grows mad and hilarious."
"All right," said Patty good-naturedly; and she went to work with a
will, stowing away things and tacking up things, until everything was
snugly in place.
Mrs. Farrington's maid accompanied the party, but both Elise and Patty,
being energetic young Americans, had small use for her services. She was
a help, though, in the matter of back buttons and hair ribbons, and she
came now rapping at the stateroom door with a message from Mrs.
Farrington that the girls were to dress for dinner. At the same moment
the pretty bugle-call rang out that marked the half hour before dinner-
time.
"Isn't it fun," cried Patty, "to have the dressing-bell a trumpet?
Except at my own party the other night I've never been bugled to my
meals. What shall we wear, Elise?"
"Not our prettiest dresses. We must save those for the concert, or
whatever gaieties they may have. Put on that blue checked silk of yours,
Patty; it's the sweetest thing, and just right for dinner, and I'll wear
my light green one."
With slight assistance from Lisette, the French maid, they were soon
ready. Patty envied Lisette her fluency in the French tongue, for though
all the officers on board and most of the passengers spoke English,
Patty wished she could talk French more readily than she did. She found
it good practice to talk to Lisette in her own language, as the mistakes
she made did not embarrass her. Lisette, of course, was a great admirer
of pretty Patty, and was only too glad to be of assistance to her
linguistically or any other way.
Another bugle-call announced dinner, and, joining Mr. and Mrs.
Farrington, the girls went down to the dining saloon. Their seats were
at the captain's table, and Patty thought she had never seen such a
profusion of beautiful flowers as graced the board. The stewards had
placed the flowers of all the passengers upon the tables, and, with the
lights and ornate decorations of the Louis XVI. saloon, it was like
fairyland. The walls and ceiling were elaborately decorated in dainty
French fashion, and the table service was exceedingly attractive. Patty
was much amused at the revolving chair which she had to learn how to get
into, but after being twirled to her place she concluded it was a wise
provision for a dining-room of such uncertain level.
Mrs. Farrington sat at the captain's right hand, and next to her was her
husband, then Elise, and then Patty. Patty at once began to wonder who
would occupy the chair next beyond herself, and was exceedingly
interested when the steward turned it around to accommodate a lady who
was approaching.
The newcomer was without doubt a Frenchwoman, somewhat elderly, but very
vigorous and active. She had masses of snow-white hair, and large,
alert, black eyes that seemed to dart quickly from one point of interest
to another. She was a little lady, but her gait and manner were marked
by an air not only of aristocracy, but as of one accustomed to exert
absolute authority. Nor was she apparently of a mild and amiable
disposition. She spoke sharply to the steward, although he was doing his
best to serve her.
"And is it that you shall be all night in arranging my chair?" she
exclaimed. Then, as she was finally seated, she continued her grumbling.
"And is it not enough that I must be delayed, but still I have received
no MENU? One shall see if this is to be permitted!"
The steward did not seem unduly alarmed at the little old lady's angry
speech, but hastened to bring her the daintily printed bill of fare.
Raising her jewelled lorgnon, the French lady scanned the MENU, and
having made a choice of soup, she laid the card down, and turning toward
Patty surveyed her leisurely through her glasses.
Her manner as she scrutinised Patty was by no means rude or impertinent.
It had rather the effect of an honest curiosity and a polite interest.
"There is no denying, my dear," she said at last, "that you are of a
beauty. And of a sweetness. An American of Americans. New York--is it
not so?"
There was an indefinable charm about the old lady's manner that won
Patty's heart at once, and though in any case she would have been
polite, she answered with cordiality:
Pages:
1 |
2 | 3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12