Patty's Motor Car

“Thank you, sir, for them kind words! Oh! sit still, my heart! Do I hear that familiar whistle at last?”

“You do!” shouted Kenneth, making a spring for the front door.

They all followed, but Kenneth first reached it, and fairly grabbed the letters from the astonished letter-carrier.

Returning to the library with his booty, he ran them over slowly and tantalisingly.

“One for Mrs. Fairfield,” he said. “From a fashionable tailor. Do you suppose it’s a dun? Or, perhaps, merely an announcement of new spring furbelows. Next, one for Mr. Fairfield. Unmistakably a circular! No good! Ha! another for Mrs. Fairfield. Now, this – ”

“Oh, Ken, stop!” begged Patty. “Have pity on me! Is there one for me?”

“Yes, yes, child. I didn’t know you wanted it. Yes, here’s one for you. It is postmarked ‘Vernondale.’ Take it, dear one!”

“Nonsense, Ken. Not that one! But isn’t there one from the Rhodes and Geer Motor Company?”

“Why, yes; since you mention it, I notice there is such a one! Do you want it?”

Kenneth held it high above Patty’s head, but she sprang and caught it, and waved it triumphantly in the air.

“I told you so!” she cried.

“But you haven’t opened it yet,” said Elise. “Maybe it only tells you you’ve failed.”

“Hush, hush, little one!” said Patty. “I’ll show it to you in a minute.”

Accepting the letter-opener Kenneth proffered, she cut open the envelope, and read the few lines on the typewritten sheet enclosed. She read them again, and then slowly refolded the sheet and returned it to its envelope.

“After all,” she said, calmly, “it is well to be of a philosophical nature in a time of disappointment.”

“Oh, Patty, you didn’t win!” cried Kenneth, springing to her side, and grasping her hand.

“No, I haven’t won,” said Patty, with a heart-rending sigh.

“I thought you were terribly positive,” said Elise, not very kindly.

“I was,” sighed Patty. “I was terribly positive. I am, still!”

“What are you talking about, Patty?” said Roger, who began to think she was fooling them. “Let me see that letter.”

“Take it!” said Patty, holding it out with a despairing gesture. “Read it aloud, and let them all know the worst!”

So Roger read the few lines, which were to the effect that, owing to the unexpected number of answers received, the decision must be delayed until May first.

“Oh, Patty!” exclaimed Kenneth, greatly relieved. “How you scared me! Of course you’ll get it yet.”

“Of course I shall,” said Patty, serenely, “but I hate to wait.”

Since it was not failure, after all, the young people felt greatly relieved, and congratulated Patty upon her narrow escape.

“But the situation is too dramatic for my nerves,” declared Kenneth. “When the real letter comes, I prefer not to be here. I can’t stand such harrowing scenes.”

“It won’t be harrowing when the real letter comes,” said Patty. “It will be just one grand, triumphant jubilee.”

“Well, jubilees are nerve-racking,” said Kenneth. “I think I’ll stay away until the shouting is over.”

“You can’t,” said Patty, saucily. “You’ll be the first one here, the day the letter is due.”

“Oh, I suppose so! Curiosity has always been my besetting sin. But to-day’s entertainment seems to be over, so I may as well go home.”

“Us, too,” said Roger. “Come on, Elise.”

So good-byes were said, and Patty’s friends went laughing away.

Then Patty took up the letter and read it again.

“Ten days to wait,” she said, to herself. “And suppose I shouldn’t get it, after all? But I will, – I know I will. Something inside my brain makes me feel sure of it. And, when I have that sort of sureness, it never goes back on me!”

She went upstairs, singing merrily, and without a shadow of doubt in her mind as to her success in the contest.

The ten days passed quickly, for Patty was so absorbed in the furnishings for the new summer home that she was occupied every moment from morning till night.

She went with Nan to all sorts of fascinating shops, where they selected wall-papers, rugs, furniture, and curtains. Not much bric-a-brac, and very few pictures, for they were keeping the house simple in tone, but comfortable and cheerful of atmosphere. Christine gladly gave her advice when needed, but she was very busy with her work, and they interrupted her as seldom as possible.

Patty bought lovely things for her own rooms, – chairs of blue and white wicker; curtains of loose-meshed, blue silky stuff, over ruffled dimity ones; a regulation brass bedstead for her bedroom, but a couch that opened into a bed for her out-of-door dormitory. By day, this could be a chintz-covered couch with chintz pillows; by night, a dainty, white nest of downy comfort. Several times they went down to Spring Beach, to inspect the work going on there, and always returned with satisfactory reports.

As the time of departure drew near, Elise began to realise how much she would miss Patty, and lamented accordingly.

“I think you might have arranged to go where we’re going,” she said. “You know you could make your people go wherever you wanted to.”

“But you go to the Adirondacks, Elise; I couldn’t run my motor car much up there.”

“Oh, that motor car! Even if you do get it, Patty, you won’t use it more than a few times. Nobody does.”

“P’raps not. But, somehow, it just seems to me I shall. It just seems to me so. But, Elise, you’ll come down to visit me?”

“Yes; for a few days. But you’ll have Christine there most of the time, I suppose.”

“I’ll have Christine whenever she’ll come,” said Patty, a little sharply; “and, Elise, if you care anything for my friendship, I wish you’d show a little more friendliness toward her.”

“Oh, yes; just because Mr. Hepworth thinks she’s a prodigy, and Mrs. Van Reypen has taken her up socially, you think she’s something great!”

Patty looked at Elise a moment in astonishment at this outburst, and then she broke into a hearty laugh.

“I think you’re something great, Elise! I think you’re a great goose! What kind of talk are you talking? Christine is a dear, sweet, brave girl, – and you know it. Now, drop it, and never, never, never talk like that again.”

Elise was a little ashamed of her unjust speech, and only too glad to turn it off by joining in Patty’s laughter. So she only said, “Oh, Christine’s all right!” and dropped the subject.

By the first of May, everything was ready for occupancy at “The Pebbles.” The lawn and grounds were in fine condition, and the house in perfect order.

But Patty begged that they shouldn’t start until she had received word about her prize car.

“Why, Puss, all the mail will be forwarded,” said her father. “You’ll get your precious missive there just as well as here.”

“I know that, daddy dear, – but, well, – I can’t seem to feel like going, until I know that car is my very own. Just wait until the third of May, can’t you?”

She was so persuasive that Nan went over to her side, and then, of course, Mr. Fairfield had to give his consent to wait. Not that he cared, particularly, but he was a little afraid that Patty would not get the prize, and thought she might bear her disappointment better if away from her young friends.

But they waited, and again the group of those most interested gathered in the Fairfield library to await the letter.

Christine and Mr. Hepworth were there, too, this time; also Philip Van Reypen.

Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield, though outwardly calm and even gay, were perhaps the most anxious of all, for they knew how keenly a disappointment would affect Patty.

The whistle sounded. The postman’s step was heard. Instead of rushing to the door, Patty felt a strange inertia, and sank back in her chair.

“Go, Ken,” she said, faintly, and Kenneth went.

Silently he took the mail from the carrier, silently he returned with it to the library. There was none of the gay chaffing they had had before, and all because Patty, the moving spirit, was grave and quiet, with a scared, drawn look on her sweet face.

Hastily running over the letters, Kenneth laid aside all but one, and slowly extended that to Patty.

She took it, opened it, and read it with a dazed expression.

The eager ones circled round, with faces tense and waiting.

Again Patty read her letter. Then, still with that dazed look on her face, she glanced from one to another. As her eyes met Mr. Hepworth’s, she suddenly held the paper out to him.

“I’ve won,” she said, simply, and gave him the letter.

Then she drew a short little sigh, almost a sob of relief, and then the colour came back to her face, the light to her eyes, and she smiled naturally.

“I’ve won!” she cried again. “It’s all right!”

Then there was jubilation, indeed! Everybody congratulated everybody else. Everybody had to read the wonderful letter, and see for himself that the prize, the Electric Runabout, had indeed been awarded to Miss Patricia Fairfield, for the best and most complete list of answers to the puzzles in the contest.

Only the girls’ parents and Gilbert Hepworth knew how tightly the tension of Patty’s nerves had been strained, but they had been alertly watching for any sign of collapse, and were thankful and relieved that the danger was over.

Hepworth didn’t stop then to wonder why Patty had handed him the letter first. And, indeed, she didn’t know herself. But she felt his sensitive sympathy so keenly, and saw such deep anxiety in his eyes, that involuntarily she turned to him in her moment of triumph.

“I told you so!” Philip Van Reypen was shouting. “I knew we’d win! Hepworth, old man, you did it, with that last charade! Bully for you!”

“Yes, he did!” cried Patty, holding out her hand to Mr. Hepworth, with a smile of gratitude; “but you all helped me. Oh, isn’t it splendid! I didn’t so much care for the car, but I wanted to win!”

“Oh, listen to that!” exclaimed Kenneth. “She didn’t care for the car! Oh, Patty, what are you saying? Give me the car, then!”

“Oh, of course I want the car, you goose! But I mean I really cared more for the game, – the winning of it!”

“Of course you did!” declared Van Reypen. “That’s the true sportsman spirit: ‘not the quarry, but the chase!’ I’m proud of you, Miss Fairfield! Your sentiments are the right sort.”

Patty smiled and dimpled, quite her roguish self again, now that the exciting crisis was past.

“Nan,” she cried, “we must celebrate! Will you invite all this hilarious populace to dinner, or give them an impromptu tea-fight right now?”

“Dinner!” cried Philip Van Reypen; and “Dinner!” took up the other voices, in gay insistence.

“Very well,” said Nan; “but, if it’s to be dinner, you must all run away now and come back later. I can’t order a celebration dinner at a moment’s notice.”

“All right, we will.” And obediently the guests went away, to return later for a gala dinner.

And a real celebration it was. Mr. Fairfield himself went out to the florist’s and returned with a centrepiece for the table, consisting of a wicker automobile filled with flowers.

By dint of much telephoning, Nan provided place cards and favours of little motor cars; and the ices were shaped like tiny automobiles; and the cakes like tires. And all the viands were so delicious, and the guests so gay and merry, that the feast was one long to be remembered by all.

“When will you get the car, Patty?” asked Elise.

“I don’t know exactly. In a fortnight, perhaps. But we’ll be down at Spring Beach then, so whoever wants a ride in it will have to come down there.”

“I want a ride in it,” said Philip Van Reypen, “and I will come down there. May I ask you to set the date?”

“You’ll get a notification in due season,” said Patty, smiling at the eager youth. “I’m not sure it’s your turn first. No, Elise must be first.”

“Why, I didn’t help you at all,” said Elise, greatly pleased, however, at Patty’s remark.

“No, but you’re my lady friend, and so you come first. Perhaps your brother will come with you.”

“Perhaps he will!” said Roger, with emphasis.

“And who comes next?” asked Kenneth, with great interest.

“Christine, of course,” said Patty, smiling at the Southern girl, who was enjoying all the fun, though quiet herself.

“Just as I guessed,” said Kenneth. “And, then, who next? Don’t keep me in suspense!”

“Owing to the unexpected number of applicants, decision is delayed for ten days,” said Patty, laughing at Ken’s disappointed face. “We’ll let you know when you’re due, Ken. Don’t you worry.”

“Need I worry?” asked Van Reypen, and then Hepworth said, “Need I?”

“No, you needn’t any of you worry. But I’m not going to take anybody riding until I learn how to manage the frisky steed myself.”

“But I can show you,” said Philip, insinuatingly.

“So can I,” said Roger.

“No, you can’t,” said Patty. “Miller is going to teach me, and then, – well, then, we’ll see about it.”

And, with this somewhat unsatisfactory invitation to “The Pebbles,” they were forced to be content.

After dinner, Kenneth remarked that it looked like a shower.

“What do you mean?” asked Patty. “It’s a still, clear night.”

“You come here, and I’ll show you,” said Kenneth, mysteriously. Then, taking Patty’s hand, he led her to a large davenport sofa, and seated her in the centre of it.

“Now,” he said, “let it shower!”

As if by magic, a half a dozen or more parcels of all shapes and sizes fell into Patty’s lap.

“It’s a shower, for you!” explained Elise, dancing about in glee. “Open them!”

“Oh! I see,” said Patty. “How gorgeous!”

The parcels were in tissue paper, ribbon-tied, and Patty was not long in exposing their contents. One and all, they were gifts selected with reference to her new motor car.

Elise gave her a most fetching blue silk hood, with quaint shirring, and draw-strings, and wide blue ribbon ties.

Christine gave her a lovely motor-veil, of the newest style and flimsiest material.

Roger gave her gauntleted motor-gloves, of new and correct make.

Kenneth gave a motor-clock, of the most approved sort; and Philip Van Reypen presented a clever little “vanity case,” which shut up into small compass, but held many dainty toilette accessories.

Mr. Hepworth’s gift was an exquisite flower vase, of gold and glass, to be attached to her new car.

Patty was more than surprised; she was almost overcome by this “shower” of gifts, and she exclaimed:

“You are the dearest people! And you needn’t wait for invitations. Come down to ‘The Pebbles’ whenever you want to, and I’ll take you all riding at once! I don’t see where you ever found such beautiful things! Nor why you gave them to me!”

“Because we love you, Patty dear,” said Christine, so softly that she thought no one heard.

But Kenneth heard, and he smiled as he looked at Patty, and said, “Yes, that’s why.”

CHAPTER VII

A NEIGHBOUR

Two days later the Fairfields went down to Spring Beach.

The intervening day was a busy one. Mr. Fairfield went with Patty to select her motor car, for some details of equipment and upholstery were left to her choice. As the car had been built especially for the Prize Contest, it was a beautiful specimen of the finisher’s art. It was a Stanhope, of graceful design and fine lines. The body was Royal Blue, with cushions of broadcloth of the same colour.

Patty was informed she could have any other colour if she wished, but she said the blue suited her best.

There was a top which could be put up or down at will, wide skirt-protecting mudguards, and a full equipment of all necessary paraphernalia, such as storm-apron, odometer, and a complete set of tools.

Patty had carried with her her flower vase and clock, and the man in charge agreed to have them fastened in place. The flower vase, he said, was unusual on a Stanhope, but, when Patty said it must be attached somewhere, he promised to have it done.

The steering gear was a bar, fitted with a hand grip, and both this and the controller were exceedingly simple and easily operated.

The demonstrator offered to give Patty a driving lesson then and there, but Mr. Fairfield preferred that she should be taught by himself, or his experienced chauffeur, the trusty Miller.

Of course, the men in charge of the salesroom where the car was on exhibition were greatly interested in seeing Patty, because she was the winner of the contest. One young man stepped forward with a camera, and asked the privilege of taking a picture of Patty seated in her own car.

But this Mr. Fairfield would not allow, and, after making the necessary arrangements about shipping the motor to Spring Beach, he took Patty away.

“Isn’t it fun, father?” she exclaimed, as she went off with him, her hands full of descriptive catalogues and circulars, telling of the marvellous superiority of the Rhodes and Geer cars over all competitors.

“It’s lots more interesting than if you had just bought a car and given it to me.”

“And lots less expensive, too,” said Mr. Fairfield, smiling. “Why, Patty, girl, that whole affair, as it stands, is worth nearly three thousand dollars.”

“Goodness gracious! Is it really? I had no idea they were so expensive! Why, your big car didn’t cost much more than that, did it?”

“But, you see, this Stanhope of yours is a special car, in every way, and all its fittings and accessories are of the most up-to-date and extravagant type. You must do all you can for the company, by praising it to your friends. I don’t think you can do any more than that to further their interests.”

“Oh, I don’t feel under any obligation to the company. It was a business enterprise on their part. They offered a prize and I won it. Now we’re quits. Of course, I shall praise the car to my friends, but only because it’s such a beauty, and not because I feel that I owe anything to the company.”

“You are rather a logical young woman, after all, Patty. Sometimes you seem a feather-headed butterfly, and then again you appear to have sound sense.”

“A ‘feather-headed butterfly’ sounds pretty, I think. I guess I’ll be that, mostly.”

“You won’t have to try very hard,” remarked her father.

“But sometimes I have spells of being very serious: for instance, wasn’t I serious when I tried so hard to earn fifteen dollars in one week?”

“Yes, serious enough; but it was largely your stubborn determination to succeed.”

“Well, that’s a good trait to have, then. It’s what Mr. Hepworth calls steadfastness of purpose.”

“Yes; they’re about the same thing. And I’m glad you have it; it’s what won the car for you.”

“That, and my helpful friends.”

“Oh, the helpful friends were incidental, like text-books or cyclopædias. I truly congratulate you, Patty, girl, on your real success in this instance. But I also ask of you not to go into anything of such a public nature again, without consulting me first.”

“All right, Father Fairfield, I promise.”

And then they were at home again, and the luncheon hour was enlivened by Patty’s descriptions to Nan of her wonderful new toy.

“Are you going to give it a name, Patty?” Nan asked, after hearing of its glories.

“Yes; but not until after I’ve used it. I can’t tell, you see, just what sort of a name it needs until I try it. And, Nan, let’s do a little shopping this afternoon. I want a new motor-coat, and a few other trifles, to live up to the appearance of that thing of beauty.”

The shopping was done, some marvellous motor-apparel was purchased, and then, the next day, the departure from New York was made.

They reached “The Pebbles” in mid-afternoon, and the ocean and sky were a glowing mass of blue and white and gold.

Nan’s well-trained servants had the house open and ready for them, and Patty flew up the steps and into the great hall with a whoop of delight.

“Isn’t it great, Nan! Isn’t it fine! More fun than travelling abroad or touristing through Sunny It.! For, you see, this is our own home and we own it!”

“Patty, your enthusiasm will wear you out some day. Do take it more quietly.”

“Can’t do it! I’m of a nervous temperament and exuberant disposition, and I have to express my thinks!”

The big hall was in reality a living-room. It extended straight through the house, with wide doors at either end. It had alcoves with cushioned seats, a huge fireplace, deep-seated windows, and from one side a broad staircase curved upward, with a landing and balcony halfway.

The wicker furniture was well-chosen and picturesque, besides being very comfortable and inviting.

“Just as soon as I can get a few things flung around, it will be perfect,” announced Patty. “At present, it’s too everlastingly cleared-up-looking.”

She tossed on a table the magazines she had bought on the train, and flung her long veil over a chair back.

“There, you see!” she said. “Watch that veil flutter in the seabreeze, – our own seabreeze, coming in at our own front door, and then tell me if ‘The Pebbles’ is a success!”

“Yes; and, unless you shut that door, you’ll have a most successful cold in your head,” observed her father. “It’s May, to be sure, but it doesn’t seem to be very thoroughly May, as yet.”

So Patty shut the door, and then, opening the piano, she sang “Home, Sweet Home,” and then some gayer songs to express her enthusiasm.

Her own rooms, Patty concluded, were the gem of the house. From her balcony, on which she proposed to sleep, she had not only a wide view of the sea, but an attractive panorama of the beautiful estates along the shore. A hammock was slung between two of the pillars, and, throwing herself into this, with an Indian blanket over her, Patty swayed gently back and forth, and indulged in daydreams of the coming summer. An hour later, Nan found her still there.

“Come to tea, Patty,” she said; “we’re having it indoors, as the wind is rising.”

“Yes, it’s breezing up quite some;” and Patty looked out at the waves, now so darkly blue as to be almost black.

She followed Nan downstairs to the hall, and looked approvingly at the tea-table, set out near the blazing wood-fire.

“Lovely!” she cried. “I believe I am chilly, after all. But the air is fine. Buttered muffins, oh, goody! Father, the table bills will be a lot bigger down here than in the city.”

“I daresay; but I won’t begrudge them, if you will put some more flesh on that willowy frame of yours. You’re not strong, Patty, and I want you to devote this summer to building yourself up physically. No study, not much reading, no ‘Puzzle Contest’ work. Just rest, and exercise moderately, and spend most of your time out-of-doors.”

“Why, daddy dear, your plans and specifications exactly suit me! How strange that our ideas should be the same on this subject! You see, with my new Stanhope, I’ll be out-of-doors all day, and, as I propose to sleep in the open, I’ll be out-of-doors all night. Can I do more?”

“I’m not sure about this sleeping outside. You must never do it on damp or foggy nights.”

“Now, father, the sanitariums advise it for everybody – every night. Well, I’ll agree not to sleep out in a thunderstorm, for I’m scared to death of them.”

“And you mustn’t begin it yet, anyway. It’s too cold. Wait until June, and then we’ll see about it.”

“All right, I’ll agree to that. Why, somebody’s coming up the front walk! Nan, here comes our first caller. Wow! She’s a dasher!”

In a few moments, Jane, the new parlour maid, admitted the visitor, and she came in with a self-important flutter.

“How do you do?” she said, cordially. “I’m Miss Galbraith, – Mona Galbraith, your next-door neighbour. At least, we live in the house with red chimneys, two blocks down, but there’s no house between us.”

“How do you do, Miss Galbraith,” said Nan, rising to greet the guest, and followed by the others.

“You see,” went on the young woman, volubly, after she had accepted the seat offered by Mr. Fairfield, “I thought I’d just run right in, informally, for you might feel a bit lonesome or homesick this first day. So many people do.”

“No,” said Patty, smiling, “we’re not lonesome or homesick, but it was nice of you to come to see us in this neighbourly fashion. Have a muffin, won’t you?”

“Indeed, I will; what delicious muffins! Did you bring your servants with you?”

“Some of them,” said Nan. “We’re simple people, and haven’t a large retinue.”