Patty's Motor Car

“Well, we have,” said Miss Galbraith. “And I’m at the head of the whole bunch. Just father and I; we live alone, you know. Will you come to see us? Come to dinner, soon, won’t you?”

“We’ll see about it,” said Nan, who scarcely knew how to take this self-possessed and somewhat forward young person.

Miss Galbraith wore a costume of embroidered white linen, but the embroidery was too elaborate, and the style of the gown rather extreme. She wore a long gold chain, with what Patty afterward called half a peck of “junk” dangling from it. There were a lorgnette, a purse, a cardcase, a pencil, a vinaigrette, a well-filled key-ring, and several other trifles, all attached to the chain, and Miss Galbraith played with the trinkets incessantly.

“I hope we’ll be real good friends,” she said, earnestly, to Patty. “I want an intimate friend awfully, and I like your looks.”

As Patty couldn’t honestly return the compliment, she said nothing in reply. Miss Galbraith’s personal appearance was comely, and yet it was not of the type with which Patty was accustomed to be friendly. Her sandy hair was too much curled and puffed, piled too high on her head, and held with too many jewelled pins; while her rather large hands showed too many rings for a young girl.

Her high-heeled, white shoes were too tight for her, and her easy attitudes and frank speech were too informal for a first call on strangers.

“Of course, we shall be friends,” said Nan, with just enough absence of enthusiasm in her tones to convey to a sensitive mind her reservations.

But Miss Galbraith hadn’t a sensitive mind.

“Dear Mrs. Fairfield,” she said, effusively, “how good you are! I see you have the neighbourly instinct. Isn’t it nice that we’ll all be down here together for the whole summer? Do you swim, Miss Fairfield? and do you love to dance?”

“Yes,” began Patty, “but – ”

As she hesitated, Mr. Fairfield came to his daughter’s rescue.

“To be frank, Miss Galbraith,” he said, “I am trying to keep my daughter rather quiet this summer. I want her to exercise only moderately, and I must positively forbid much dancing, and late hours, and all that sort of thing.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” returned the visitor; “nobody keeps very late hours at Spring Beach. Well, I must run away now, – and I give you fair warning! If you don’t come and return my call soon, I’ll come straight over here and return it myself!”

She shook a playful finger at Patty, and, after voluble leave-takings, she went away, tripping down the walk with the satisfied air of one who has accomplished her object.

“Well!” said Patty, with an air of utter exasperation.

“Well!” exclaimed Nan.

Mr. Fairfield smiled grimly.

“It’s our own fault,” he said. “We should have enquired as to the character of the neighbours before we bought the house.”

“How soon can you sell it, father?” asked Patty. “One more visitation like that would give me nervous prostration! Mona! Mona, indeed! I never saw a Mona before, but I might have known they were like that.”

“But can’t you really stay here?” asked Mr. Fairfield, in alarm.

“Nonsense, daddy, of course we can! Do you think I’d let myself be dispossessed by a mere Mona? No, sir; Nan and I can manage her.”

“I don’t quite see how,” said Nan, thoughtfully. “She’s that impossible sort. Oblivious to manner, impervious to hints. Patty, she’s dreadful!”

“Of course she is, Sweet Nancy. She isn’t our sort. But I’ll attend to her. I don’t know how, just yet, but I’ll find out. She’s a problem to be coped with, a difficulty to be overcome. But did you ever see such a gown? There was just enough embroidery on it for three self-respecting frocks. And her hair! Looked like the wax ladies’ coiffures in the hair-store windows!”

“Don’t make rude personal remarks, Patty, girl.”

“Oh, father, as if one could be rude to an object like that! Well, people dear, let’s put her out of our minds and hearts for the rest of to-day, anyway. I won’t have the birthday of ‘The Pebbles’ spoiled by a slight incident like that. Forget it!”

And so the impossible Miss Galbraith was voluntarily ignored.

CHAPTER VIII

SWIFT CAMILLA

At last the car came. Patty was in a flutter of joyous expectation, and, as Miller came whirring up the drive in it, the whole family assembled on the veranda to admire it.

“Isn’t it a beauty, Nan! Oh, isn’t it?” Patty exclaimed, as the sunlight flashed gold sparkles on the shining paint.

“It is, indeed, Patty. I never saw such a pretty one. Are you sure you can run it?”

“Oh, yes! I know how already. You just stick in a key and turn it, and grab the brake-handle, and take hold of the steering bar, and push and pull whenever you think you ought to.”

“Not very technical language,” said Mr. Fairfield, smiling, “but I think you understand the operation. Jump in, Puss; I’m going with you for your first spin.”

But, though Mr. Fairfield was an interested spectator, Patty manipulated the car all by herself, and seemed to know intuitively a great many of the minor details.

“There’s only one trouble, dad,” she said, as they went spinning along the smooth, hard road, “I can’t take you and Nan with me both at once.”

“Never mind, girlie; when we feel as sociable as that, we’ll go in the big car. Now, Patty, let me see you change the speed.”

Then followed a careful lesson, in speed changing, stopping suddenly, turning, going backward, and all the various emergencies that occur in driving.

“You certainly are a born motorist, Patty,” said her father, at last. “You are unusually clever and quick-witted about knowing what to do, and doing it swiftly and cleanly. Hesitation in motoring often means trouble.”

“It’s because I love it, father. I’d rather motor than go driving or boating or even flying. Aren’t you glad I don’t want an aëroplane, daddy?”

“You wouldn’t get it, if you did. Not even if you earned it yourself, as you did this car. Now, Patty, turn around and let’s go home.”

Skilfully, Patty turned around, and they sped on their homeward way.

“Some things you must promise me, Patty,” said her father, seriously, as they drew near the house. “Never start out without knowing pretty definitely how long it will take you, and when you’ll return. Never go without being sure you have enough current for the trip. Of course, Miller will look after this for you, but I want you to understand it thoroughly yourself.”

“Yes, I want to learn all about the working parts, and how to repair them, if necessary.”

“That will come later. Learn to run it perfectly, first. And, too, I want you to promise never to start anywhere so late that there’s even a possibility of your being out after dark. I wouldn’t let you go out alone, or with a girl friend, in the city, but down here you may do so, if you never travel except by daylight. You understand, Patty?”

“Yes, father, and I promise. As you know, I only want to go on little, short drives, two or three hours, usually.”

“Very well. I trust you not to do anything of which I would disapprove. You’re a good girl, Patty; at least, you mean to be. But sometimes your enthusiasms and inclinations run away with you, and you have no sense of moderation.”

“H’m,” said Patty, smiling; “now I’ve been lectured enough for one lesson, father dear. Save the rest for another day, and watch me whiz up this drive to the house like an expert.”

She did so, and Nan, awaiting them, exclaimed with pride at Patty’s skilful driving.

“Your turn now, Nan,” the girl called out; then, mindful of her promise, she looked at her watch. “It’s just three,” she said. “Let’s go over to the Arbutus Inn Tea Room, have a cup of tea, and get back home before six? How’s that, father?”

“That’s all right, my good little girl. I don’t believe you’ll have any trouble running it, do you?”

“No, indeed! It’s as easy as pie! I just love to run it.”

Soon Nan was ready, and the two started off in great glee.

“I can hardly believe you really have the car, Patty; didn’t you learn to run it very quickly?”

“Well, you see, I have driven cars before. Big ones, I mean. And this is different, but so much simpler, that it’s no trouble at all. Oh! Nan, isn’t the scenery gorgeous?”

Gorgeous wasn’t at all the right word, but a tamer one would not have suited Patty’s mood. They were rolling along the coast: on one side the ocean; on the other, an ever-changing panorama of seashore settlements with their hotels and cottages, interspersed with stretches of fine woods, or broad, level vistas with distant horizons.

“It’s beautiful, Patty. We’ll have a lovely time this summer.”

“Yes; don’t let’s have too much company. I’d like to have Christine down for a few weeks, and of course Elise will make us a visit; but I don’t want that horde of boys.”

“Why not?” asked Nan, in amazement, for Patty greatly enjoyed the boys’ calls in New York.

“Oh, I don’t know! It’s so quiet and peaceful, just with us; and, if they come, they’ll stir up picnics and dances and all sorts of things.”

“I know what’s the matter with you, Patty,” said Nan, laughing; “you’ve got automobile fever! You just want to ride and ride in this pretty car of yours, along these good roads, and just give yourself up to indolent enjoyment of it.”

“That’s just it! How did you know, Nan?”

“Oh, everybody feels that way when they first own a car. I’ve often noticed it. Sometimes they want to ride entirely alone, and just revel in automobility.”

“Gracious, Nan! What a word! Well, I might want to go all alone once in a while; but usually I want some one to rave about it all with me.”

“Well, I’m ready to rave at any time. Isn’t that the Inn, off there to the right?”

“Yes, so it is. How quickly we’ve come! Nan, there’s a line of poetry in my mind, and I can’t think of it.”

“Oh, what a catastrophe! Is it the only line you know?”

“Don’t be silly. But, truly, I do want to think of it, for it’s about the name of this car.”

“Perhaps a cup of tea will quicken your wits.”

“Perhaps. Well, we’ll try. Jump out, Nan; here we are.”

By a clever little contrivance, Patty could lock her car, and so feel sure it would not be tampered with. In a country place, like this somewhat primitive roadhouse where they now were, this was a decided satisfaction.

The Tea Room, though small, was dainty and attractive. It was kept by two pleasant-faced spinsters, and, though their clientèle was not large, they sometimes served guests at several tables.

“Only a little after four,” said Patty, looking at her watch. “We can stay till five, Nan, and then get home by six.”

“All right,” returned Nan, who was walking along the narrow garden paths, admiring the old-fashioned flowers and tiny box borders.

Patty went into the little Inn, ordered tea and hot waffles and cakes, and then returned to Nan.

“It’s a dear little place,” she said. “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been here before. Tea will be ready in twenty minutes.”

When served, the little repast was delightful. Old-time silver and old-fashioned china made it all seem quaint and interesting.

They dawdled over their tea, sometimes chatting, sometimes sitting silent. It was a bit of good fortune that these two were so congenial, for, Fate having thrown them together, they were much in each other’s company. As there was but six years’ difference in their ages, their relation was far more like sisters than like mother and daughter. And, though Nan never dictated to Patty, she taught her much by example, and, at the same time, she herself learned some things from her stepdaughter.

“S’pect we’d better move on, Nannie,” said Patty, at last, as it was nearly five. “I’ll pay the reckoning for this feast, and then we’ll start. Oh, it has just come to me!”

“What has?”

“That line of poetry that I couldn’t think of! This is it, ‘When swift Camilla scours the plain.’”

“Well, what of it?”

“Why, it’s the name for my car! Swift Camilla! See?”

“A pretty name enough. But is she swift?”

“I’ll speed her going home, and just show you!”

“Patty, don’t you dare! You know I’m only going to motor with you if you go with great moderation.”

“All right; I won’t scare you. But that’s her name, all the same.”

Soon the Swift Camilla was once more skimming along the country roads. Patty went only at moderate speed, for she had no wish to frighten Nan, and, too, she had promised her father to be very careful.

They were about halfway home, when Patty saw a cow in the road ahead.

“I wish that old cow would get out of the way,” she said. “A cow has no business to be in the middle of the road like that.”

She slowed down, and the car crawled along behind the cow, but the indifferent animal paid no heed to the motor or the horn, and ambled along in mild indifference.

“Oh, get out of the way!” cried Patty, exasperatedly. Then, more coaxingly, “Please, cow, nice cow, do get out of the way.”

This brought no response, and Patty grew angry again.

“Shoo! Cow! Shoo! Get out of the road! If you don’t, I’ll – I’ll – ” But she could think of no direful deed that would affect the cow, so she paused. Then she resorted to sarcasm: “A nice sort of cow you are, anyway! Alone and unattended on a country road! Why, anybody might kidnap you! Where’s your cow-herd, or whatever you call him?”

“Patty, don’t be silly,” said Nan, choking with laughter. “Get out and chase the cow away. Hit her with a stick, or something. Throw a little stone at her, – just a very little one. Don’t hurt her!”

Patty’s eyes grew round with horror.

“Why, Nan Fairfield, I’m more afraid of that cow than of all the automobiles in the world! I’m terribly afraid of cows! I’m more afraid of cows than of anything, except a mouse! But a mouse wouldn’t block up the road so dreadfully. Nan, you get out and chase the cow.”

“No, – no,” said Nan, shuddering. “I’m afraid of cows, too. Patty, I’ll tell you what! Steer around the cow!”

“Just the thing! I believe there’s just about room enough. If she’ll only stay in the middle, now. Which side do you think there’s more room, Nan?”

“On the right. Go round her on the right.”

There was plenty of room, and Patty steered carefully out toward the right, and passed the cow safely enough.

“Hurrah!” she cried, but she hurrahed a trifle too soon.

As she directed her car back to the hard road, she discovered that she had sidetracked into a very sandy place. The front wheels of her car were all right, but the hind wheels were stuck in the sand, – one but a little, the other deeply.

“Put on more speed!” cried Nan. “Hurry, before it sinks in deeper!”

Patty put on more speed, which, contrary to her intent, made the hind wheels sink lower and lower in the soft sand. The car had stopped, and no effort of Patty’s could start it.

She looked at Nan with a comical smile.

“Adventure No. 1!” she said. “Oh, Nan, we can’t get home by six! Indeed, I don’t see how we can ever get home.”

“Are you frightened, Patty?”

“No; there’s nothing to be frightened about. But I’m – well, hopping mad just about expresses my feelings! You see, Nan, it’s like a quicksand; the more we struggle to get out, the deeper we get in.”

“H’m; what are you going to do?”

“Just plain nothing, my lady; for the simple reason that there’s nothing to do.”

“And do you propose to sit here all night?”

“That’s as Fate wills it! Do you suppose father will come to look for us, – say, along toward midnight?”

“Patty, don’t be a goose! Fred will be scared to death!”

“Because I’m a goose? Oh, no! he knows I am, already. But, Nan, I’ve an idea. If I were only strong enough, – or if you were, – we could lift out one of those fence rails, and stick it in the sand in front of that deepest wheel, and get her out.”

“Patty, how clever you are! How do you know that?”

“Oh, I know it well enough. My general gumption tells me it. But, – we’re neither of us strong enough to boost it out of the fence and under the wheel in the right way.”

“But we might do it together.”

“We might try. Come on, Nan, let’s make the effort. Bother that old cow, anyway! But for her, we’d be almost home now.”

They got out of the car, and, with plucky effort, tried to dislodge a fence rail. But it was a fairly new and a well-made fence, and the rails would not come out easily. They tried one after another, but with no success.

“Well, Nan, here’s my only solution to this perplexing situation. We can’t sit here and let father lose his mind worrying about it, and thinking we’re ground under our own chariot wheels. So one of us must stay here with the car, and the other walk home and tell him about it.”

“Walk home! Why, Patty, it must be five miles!”

“I daresay it is, and I’d just as lieve walk it, but I hate to leave you here alone. So you can take your choice, and I’ll take the other.”

“But, Patty, that’s absurd! Why not let one of us walk to some nearby house and ask for help?”

“Capital idea, but where’s the nearby house? There’s none in sight.”

“No, but there must be one nearer than home.”

“Yes; and, when you go trailing off to look for it, you’ll get lost. Better go straight home, Nan.”

“And leave you here alone? I won’t do it!”

“Then there seems to be a deadlock. Oh, hey! Hi! Mister!! I say! Whoo-oo-ee!”

Nan turned, frightened at Patty’s hullabaloo, to see a man just disappearing round a fork in the road. He had not seen them, and, unless Patty’s quick eyes had spied him, and her sudden call had reached his ears, he would have been gone in a moment. As it was, he turned, stared at them, and then came slowly over to them. He was a rough, but not unkindly-looking fellow, probably a farm labourer, and apparently a foreigner. He spoke no English, but Patty made him understand by gestures what she wanted him to do. A look of admiration came into his stolid eyes, at the idea of Patty knowing enough to use the fence rail, and his powerful strength soon removed a rail, and placed it endwise under the wheel of the captive car. Another was placed under the other hind wheel, and, after much endeavour and slipping and coaxing, the car was once again freed from the sand, and stood proudly on the hard road.

Patty thanked the man prettily, and, though he couldn’t understand a word, he understood her grateful smiles. More clearly, perhaps, he understood a banknote, which she drew from her purse and gave him, and, with a grateful, if uncouth bow of his awkward head, he trudged away.

Patty started her car, and soon, at a good rate of speed, they were flying along in the gathering dusk.

CHAPTER IX

MONA AT HOME

When they reached home it was really after dark, and Patty was prepared for an expected reproof. But Mr. Fairfield came out smilingly to meet them.

“Accident No. 1?” he asked. “What was it? Power gave out, punctured tire, or misjudged distance?”

“None of those,” cried Patty, gaily; “but it was a real accident, and a real unavoidable and unforeseeable one!”

“Oh, of course!” chaffed her father; “accidents are always unavoidable, and never the fault of the person driving!”

“I’m glad you’ve learned that,” said Patty, saucily, “for, if you have that theory firmly fixed in your mind, you have learned the main principle of motor adventures!”

And then the three sat down on the veranda, and Patty and Nan detailed the whole experience to Mr. Fairfield.

“You were certainly in no way to blame, Patty,” he said, heartily, “for, of course, you’ve had no experience with sand, and had no reason to suspect that the wheels would sink. But you’ve learned the lesson, and now that particular trouble is not likely to occur again, for you will remember to stick to the hard roads.”

“But, you see, the particular trouble was really the cow, and, of course, she’s likely to occur again at any time.”

“Then the only remedy that I can suggest is to have a cow-catcher built on the front of your car.”

“No; I’m not going to spoil the perfect lines of my beautiful Camilla by any unsightly device. You see, father, the lines of that car are simply perfect. I know this, because it says so in the booklet the company gave me. And it speaks quite highly of the car’s various points, and accessories, and really goes so far as to state that it is superior to any other car in the market! And the longer I use it, the more fully I agree with the booklet.”

“I’m glad your long experience justifies the company’s claims. Have you named the car Camilla?”

“Yes, because she scours the plain; don’t you remember how swift Camilla scoured the plain?”

“Yes, I remember, but it seems a more appropriate name for some patent cleaning powder.”

“Nonsense, daddy! Have you no poetry or romance in your soul? Swift Camilla is a lovely name for my car, and I mean to scour the plain for miles around. Come on, Nan, let’s go and tidy up for dinner. It’s getting late.”

“It is so,” said her father, “and, though I sha’n’t be too severe with you this time, I must mildly repeat that I want you hereafter to get home from your scouring expeditions before dark.”

“Sure!” cried Patty, gaily, blowing him a kiss from the tips of her fingers as she ran away.

The days flew by, and, as the weather was almost always fine, Patty went scouring with Camilla every day. Sometimes she took Nan, sometimes her father, and sometimes she went all alone for short drives up and down the coast. She had no trouble with the car’s mechanism, for it was really of superior make, and its management was simple. But one afternoon, when she asked Nan to go for a little spin, Nan replied: “I will later, Patty, but first I think we ought to go and call on Miss Galbraith. It is more than a week since she was here, and, in common courtesy, we ought to return her call.”

“But I don’t like her, and I don’t want to go to see her,” declared Patty, a little petulantly.

“Don’t act like an infant! Your not liking her has nothing to do with the case. We’ve had other calls down here, and we’ve returned them properly; now this is a social duty that must be attended to, so come along.”

“Oh, Nan, you go without me! Make excuses for me, can’t you?”

“No, I can’t; and I won’t! So go and put on a pretty frock and come right along. We needn’t stay long, and we can go for a short motor ride after.”

So Patty went away to dress, for she realised that she must go, however unwillingly. She put on a pretty calling costume of white serge, with black velvet collar and cuffs, and a large black hat.

“You look lovely,” said Nan, as Patty joined her in the hall.

“Yes, I like this frock,” said Patty, “but I’m sure Miss Galbraith won’t; you know, her taste runs to more elaborate costumes.”

“Oh, well, you can’t expect to suit everybody! Come along.”

Nan herself was in pale-grey cloth, with hat to match, and the two strolled along the short distance to “Red Chimneys,” which they had learned was the name of the Galbraith home.

They turned in at the entrance gate, and saw a large and massive stone house, with many red chimneys. It was a handsome building, but over-ornate in its architecture and decoration.

“Looks exactly like Mona,” said Patty, as they drew near. “It’s just a mass of heavy embroidery!”

A footman answered their ring, and, taking their cards on his silver tray, ushered them into a drawing-room, and departed.

There was a rather long interval before Miss Galbraith appeared, and Patty fidgeted. The golden hours of her afternoon were slipping away, and she was impatient to go out with Camilla.

But presently Mona Galbraith came downstairs, and greeted them effusively. As she had been when they saw her before, she was overdressed and over-jewelled. She wore a house dress of blue satin, but so befrilled and bedecked with jabots of lace that it was not only unbeautiful, but no way did it resemble the accepted fashion of the day. An expensive and complicated necklace of turquoises surmounted the blue satin, and large-headed pins of the same blue stone adorned the piled-up masses of hair.

Patty’s secret impulse was one of regret that a fairly pretty girl could make such a dowdy of herself, and she resolved, if ever they became sufficiently well acquainted, she would try to tone down Miss Galbraith’s frantic wardrobe.

“I’m so glad to see you,” their hostess said, “and, if you hadn’t come to-day, I was going straight over to your house to tell you what I thought of you! Oh, you naughty people, to keep me waiting so long! Why didn’t you come sooner?”