PATTY'S PRANKS
Somehow the time passed quickly in Boston; in fact, the Fleming family
seemed fairly to push it along, they hurried so.
At any rate they wasted none of it, and after a few weeks, Patty fell into
the ways of the household, and hurried along with the rest.
Indeed she had to do so, or be left behind, for her cousins were like Time
and Tide, and waited for no man, or little girl either.
She went to school with Ruth, but found herself far behind the New England
girl in her studies, so she took her place in a lower class, and Ruth
kindly helped her with her lessons at home.
Patty did not know what to make of Ruth; she had never seen a girl like her
before. Of course Ruth was pleasant and amiable, but she was so very quiet,
seldom talked and almost never laughed.
Patty joked with her, and told her funny stories, but at most she received
only a faint smile in response, and sometimes a blank stare.
She wrote to her father: "Ruth is the queerest girl I ever saw, and I
believe she is all out of proportion. She studies so hard that she has
crowded all the fun out of herself. You know 'all work and no play makes
Jack a dull boy,' and I verily believe Ruth is the dullest girl in the
world."
But Ruth almost always won the prizes offered at school, and was accounted
the best of Miss Goodman's pupils.
Patty liked the school, and she liked Miss Goodman, the principal, but the
hours, from nine to one, seemed very long to her, and she would often get
restless and mischievous.
One day she thought she would clean her ink well. Ruth shared her desk, and
as the ink well was intended for the use of both, it was a good-sized one,
and chanced to be full of ink.
So Patty must need find something to hold the ink while she washed the
inkstand. Not having anything appropriate, she made a cornucopia of a sheet
of stiff writing-paper.
She turned up the point securely, poured the ink in, and folded down the
top, feeling sure that she could get the ink well ready before the ink
soaked through the paper.
Ruth saw this performance and a look of grave disapproval was on her face,
but as communication of any kind during school hours was strictly
forbidden, she made no sign.
Just as Patty had completed her dangerous little bundle, and held it in her
hand, looking at it admiringly, Miss Carter, the teacher, happened to
notice her.
Now as the strict discipline of the school prohibited anything which was
not directly an aid to education, Miss Carter felt it her duty to
confiscate the suspicious-looking package, that _might_ be candy, and that
certainly did not pertain to school work.
"Patty Fairfield," said she, in a commanding voice, "you are out of order.
You have there something apart from your school duties. Bring it to me at
once."
"But, Miss Carter,"--began Patty.
"Silence! not a word! hand me that parcel."
"Oh, Miss Carter, I can't! it's--"
"One word more, and you will be expelled from school. I require implicit
obedience. Bring me that parcel."
As there was really nothing else to do, Patty walked up to Miss Carter's
desk, gingerly carrying the package of ink.
She knew what would happen if Miss Carter took it, but she had tried to
explain, and as she was not allowed to do so, she couldn't help feeling
that the result would serve the teacher right for being so unreasonably
tyrannical. But she thought she would attempt one more warning, so she
said,
"You'll be sorry if you take it, Miss Carter."
Angry at what she considered an impertinent threat, Miss Carter grasped the
paper of ink with an indignant clutch, and a black flood streamed over her
hand and dress, and spurted out in various directions.
Some drops flew in her face, and on her immaculate white collar, while
others decorated her desk and papers with black blots.
The pupils, who had watched the scene with interest, though only Ruth knew
what was in the cornucopia, were horror-stricken at the calamity, and sat
breathlessly awaiting the explosion of Miss Carter's wrath.
But a drop of ink rolled down that lady's august nose, and involuntarily
she put up her hand to brush it away. This produced such an all-over smudge
on the ink-spotted face that the girls burst into uncontrollable laughter,
and the unfortunate teacher rushed out of the room.
Patty was not expelled from the school, for after hearing Ruth's grave and
carefully exact version of the case, Miss Goodman decided that though Patty
was blameworthy, yet Miss Carter had been too peremptory in her orders, and
so had brought the trouble upon herself.
Patty, who was fun-loving, but not malicious, went to Miss Carter
privately, and made her peace with the irate lady, but it was several days
before the ink stains entirely disappeared from the teacher's face; and as
for the blots on the desk and platform, I shouldn't be surprised if they
were there yet.
When Patty told about the ink episode at home, Aunt Hester was exceedingly
shocked, but Cousin Tom said, "Patty, you're a genius. What made you think
of wrapping up ink in paper?"
"There was nowhere else to put it, Cousin Tom."
"I suppose if you hadn't had any paper you would have dumped it into your
pocket, eh?"
"Tom," said his sister Barbara, "how careless you are in your diction.
'Dumped ink!' One can only dump a powdered or granulated substance. By the
way I've joined a new club. It's a Society for the Improvement of
Advertisers' English, and we work in such a novel and efficacious way.
To-day Miss White and I were appointed a committee to go through the shops
in a certain district, and call attention to any errors which we noticed on
signs or placards. Well, we went into a large dry goods house, and the
first thing that caught my eye was a sign 'Dotted Swisses, twenty-five
cents.' I sent for the advertising manager and he came. Then I said to him,
'Sir, this is a reliable house, and of course you advertise nothing that
you cannot supply. A Swiss is a native of Switzerland, and experience has
taught me that a Swiss is often an admirable servant, especially clever as
a cook. So if you can sell me a Swiss for twenty-five cents, I'll take one,
and I don't care whether he is dotted or not.' The man looked extremely
mortified and stammered something about meaning muslin goods sold by the
yard. 'Oh' said I, 'if you mean dotted Swiss muslins, why don't you say
so?' and Miss White and I stalked out of the shop."
"That club of yours is a good thing," said Mr. Fleming, meditatively, "I
hope you will banish the signs which announce 'Boots Blacked Inside,' and
those others which always rouse false hopes in the minds of people who have
lost their umbrellas, by promising 'Umbrellas recovered while you wait.'"
"Yes, we will, and we're going to do away with those atrocious doggerel
rhymes in the street cars and substitute real poetry. It will cost a great
deal to get it written, but we have funds, and the public taste must be
elevated." The work of such clubs as this, and constant endeavors towards
educational or literary attainment of one sort or another, engrossed the
attention of the whole Fleming family.
Amusement or recreation not of a literary nature was never indulged in.
So serious were they in their aims and purposes, that all fun was crowded
out, and to fun-loving Patty this was a sad state of affairs indeed.
As she wrote to her father, "the worst kind of misproportion is that which
leaves out all fun and jokes and laughing. And I'm going to play a joke on
the whole family, if I can think of a good one, just to stir them up for
once."
Then Patty tried her best to think of some hoax or trick that would be
harmless, and yet would startle all the Flemings out of their usual busy
routine.
As the first of April drew near, she did think of a plan, and she decided
that April Fool's Day gave her a legitimate excuse for teasing her
serious-minded relatives.
As a family, their habits were most methodical; meals were served exactly
at the appointed hours, and every one appeared in the dining-room as if by
magic, punctual to the minute. Breakfast was at eight, and Patty had often
heard Cousin Elizabeth say that she always woke on the stroke of seven.
None of the others woke earlier than that, as a rule, and rules in the
Fleming house had very rare exceptions.
So Patty decided to try a bold scheme, which was nothing less than to set
everybody's clock two hours ahead on the morning of the first of April, and
let the people waken to find they had apparently overslept.
She could not have managed this very well, except for the fact that Cousin
Tom had remarked a few days before that he had left his watch at a
jeweler's to be cleaned, and was carrying an old one which was very
unreliable.
So mischievous Patty woke very early on the morning of the first of April.
Indeed she had waked several times during the night, so anxious was she for
the success of her trick.
As soon as the dawn made it light enough for her to see her way
indistinctly round the house, she slipped on her dressing-gown, and crept
softly down-stairs.
It was just half-past five by the old grandfather's clock in the hall, and
Patty opened its glass door, and pushed the hands around until they stood
at half-past seven. Then she went to the dining-room and kitchen, and
changed those clocks to correspond.
The library clock was harder to manage, for it was a cuckoo-clock, and she
had to stand on a table to reach it.
But Patty was a determined little girl, and having set out to fool the
family she was not to be baffled by small obstacles. Then she went up to
the second floor and into her Aunt Hester's room. She felt a little bit
like a burglar when she saw the dear old lady peacefully asleep in her bed.
But it was only the work of a moment to change the time of the little clock
that ticked softly on the mantel, and then Patty slipped into the next
room. Cousin Elizabeth's watch lay on her dressing-table, and as it was a
little stem-winder just like Patty's own, it was easy to turn the tiny
hands two hours ahead.
Cousin Barbara's watch was under her pillow, but as the sound sleep of that
lady was proverbial, audacious Patty slipped her hand under her cousin's
head, took out the watch, changed the time, and replaced it, and Miss
Barbara Fleming slept on in blissful ignorance.
Patty was afraid that Cousin Tom would spoil the whole joke. But she knew
that he had no clock in his room, and only awoke when his mother knocked at
his door each morning. She hoped that in this case he wouldn't look at his
watch, or if he did, he would have no faith in the uncertain old
chronometer he was carrying at present, and anyway it wouldn't be believed
against the testimony of all the other timepieces in the house.
Last of all, she slipped up to the servants' room and changed the time of
their alarm clock.
Bridget, the cook, and Molly were sleeping, each in a narrow bed, and
Bridget was snoring loud enough to wake them both, but she didn't.
Then Patty hurried back to her own room and jumped into bed again to await
results.
Ruth had no clock or watch. She seemed to get up at the right time by
instinct, and Patty, after carefully thinking it all over, concluded she
had done her work very thoroughly.
And so she had,--and her trick was a great success. Of course the alarm
clock went off apparently two hours late. Bridget woke with a start, looked
at the clock, rubbed her eyes and looked again, and then she turned to
Molly.
"Arrah, Molly," she cried, "will yez luke at that now. The alarrum is jist
afther goin' off, an' it's eight o'clock! Whativer will happen to us?"
Molly jumped up in great excitement, and the two maids hastily dressed and
ran down-stairs. Of course it was really only six, but as the sun was now
shining brightly, they had no thought for astronomical calculations, and
besides, they were frightened nearly out of their wits. Such a thing had
never before happened in the well-regulated Fleming household.
As no one was astir, they went on down to the kitchen, corroborating the
time by the various clocks, but utterly unable so understand why the family
were still all asleep.
Patty heard them whispering as they went down, and choking with laughter,
she prepared to wait another hour for more fun,--and it came.
Elizabeth woke just at seven, and rising, glanced as usual at the watch on
the dressing-table.
"Nine o'clock!" she almost screamed, running to her sister's door.
"Barbara! what does this mean? It's nine o'clock! Are you asleep?"
Barbara _was_ asleep, but she awoke at her sister's call and drew her watch
from beneath the pillow.
"It is," she cried, "it's nine o'clock! What shall I do? There's a
rehearsal of the Historical Tableaux at ten, and I have to make three wigs
before I go."
"But even that isn't as important as my engagement," wailed Elizabeth, who
was splashing her face with water. "I have to be at the Authors' Club at
nine-thirty, to prepare the room for the reception at eleven, and nothing
can be done until I get there. And I must do several errands on my way
there. Oh, it _can't_ be nine o'clock. Perhaps my watch stopped at nine
last evening. No--it's going. Oh, how unfortunate I am. Mother, mother,"
she called.
But Mrs. Fleming was already up, and came through the hall with a scared
face.
"Girls," she said, "it's after nine o'clock, and Tom has to go away on the
9:45 train. We have overslept ourselves."
"I should think we had," began Elizabeth, but Mrs. Fleming had already gone
to her son's room. "Tom, Tom," she called, as she knocked vigorously at the
door, "get up, it's after nine o'clock!"
"What!" came from Tom's room, accompanied by a sudden jump out onto the
floor.
Ruth had heard the commotion, and she and Patty each appeared at their
doors.
"What is it, Aunt Hester?" asked Ruth, roused at last, Patty was glad to
see, to some degree of animation.
"Why, Ruthy, it's nine o'clock! We have all overslept. Hurry down-stairs,
children, you'll be late to school."
Well, such a commotion as there was; everybody compared watches and clocks,
and exclaimed in wonderment and dismay. Tom said that his watch said it was
only half-past seven, but of course, as he had said it didn't keep perfect
time, it was not believed, when all the others said half-past nine.
After they were all down-stairs and seated at the breakfast table, Patty
remarked quietly,
"April Fool! It isn't half-past nine at all; it's only half-past seven. I
set all the clocks forward two hours."
"What!" said Cousin Elizabeth, looking as if she would annihilate her. "You
little witch! You dared to--" and then she felt such a relief to think she
would have ample time to keep her engagement after all, that the ridiculous
side of the affair struck her, and she began to laugh.
"Why, Patty Fairfield," said Barbara, and then she too laughed; and Cousin
Tom, when he found he could catch his train, thought it all the best joke
in the world.
Bridget and Molly enjoyed it the most of all, perhaps because, being Irish,
they had a greater sense of humor than the Bostonians, but all agreed that
Patty had played a very successful April Fool joke on them. All except
Ruth,--she didn't see any fun in it at all, so Patty gave her up as a
hopeless case.