THE BOOK PARTY
One evening as they all sat in the pleasant library, Cousin Elizabeth
announced her intention of giving a party for Patty.
"I am afraid," she said, kindly, "that you find it dull with us. We are all
so busy with our club work and study, that we have really neglected your
entertainment. I am sorry for this, and I mean to give you more youthful
pleasures during the remainder of your stay with us."
Patty was delighted, for life at the Flemings _was_ a little bit humdrum
for her, though her aunt and cousins were very kind whenever they had time
to remember her existence.
They all fell in with Elizabeth's plan, and began to discuss what kind of a
party it should be.
Patty was secretly much amused at the contrast between plans for a party at
Villa Rosa, and in Boston. Nothing was said about decorations, and the
supper was not mentioned, except when Cousin Elizabeth said she would order
some cake and ice cream from a confectioner; and as to dresses, well,
_they_ seemed never to be even thought of by the Fleming ladies. Patty wore
the plainest of the clothes her Aunt Isabel had bought for her, but even
those were far finer than Ruth's.
Apparently the difference was not noticed, for no one paid the slightest
attention to what any one wore.
The Fleming ladies were always dressed neatly and inconspicuously, but
Patty concluded they must pick their dresses off of trees, for nothing was
ever said about dressmakers or purchase of materials.
So when the party was talked about, all discussion was concerning the
entertainment of the minds of the young guests.
Intellectual games were proposed, and even Ruth grew almost excited over
the scheme of a "Quotation Salad."
But Cousin Elizabeth said, "Games are not enough. I want something more
like a character party. Ah, I have it. Let us ask each guest to represent
some children's book, or some favorite character in juvenile literature."
"Just the thing," exclaimed Barbara; "Eddie can be 'Little Lord
Fauntleroy.'"
Eddie was a neighbor's child, who had long flaxen curls and who would make
a perfect counterpart of the pictures of Fauntleroy. The Flemings all
entered into the plan of the party with their usual enthusiasm, and found
time between their numerous engagements to prepare quite a programme of
entertainment.
A platform was put up in the library, with curtains to draw in front of it,
and as this was done very easily and quickly, Patty rightly judged it had
often been done before.
At last the time came, and everything was in readiness. The party was to
begin at seven, and promptly at that hour the boys and girls began to
arrive. Though seemingly so indifferent to every-day costumes, Cousin
Elizabeth had taken much interest in dressing Patty and Ruth for this
occasion, and Patty looked very sweet and pretty arrayed as Little Bo-Peep.
Cousin Tom had chosen this character for her, and had helped to design the
dress. It was, of course, the garb of a dainty little shepherdess, and it
had blue panniers over a quilted white satin petticoat, and a black velvet
bodice laced over a white chemisette.
Then Patty wore a broad brimmed hat trimmed with roses and fluttering
ribbons. High-heeled slippers with bright buckles and a crook tied with
blue ribbons added to the quaint effect, and the whole costume was very
becoming to pretty Patty.
Ruth looked equally well, though in a very different way.
She represented the Puritan Maiden, Priscilla; who, though not a juvenile
character was one of Ruth's favorite heroines, and the dress suited her so
well, that Cousin Elizabeth said she should wear it.
A straight, scant gown of Quaker gray silk, a soft white mull kerchief
folded across her breast, and a white muslin cap, transformed Ruth into a
demure little Puritan maid.
Her small, pale face and quiet eyes suited the character, and the modest
garb was very becoming.
Among the guests were represented, Red Ridinghood, Cinderella, Little Boy
Blue, Simple Simon, and many other well-known personages from Fairy Tales
or Mother Goose's Melodies.
Then there were characters from more recent books, such as Little Women,
Alice in Wonderland, Master Skylark and even Arabella and Araminta, who
were dressed exactly alike.
Historical characters were there too; the Princess in the Tower chatted
amiably with Joan of Arc, while Lady Jane Grey compared notes with
Pocahontas.
Some of the children wore such nondescript costumes that it was difficult
to guess whom they intended to represent.
After all had arrived the programme of entertainment was begun.
The motley crowd was seated in the library and soon the curtains in front
of the platform were drawn apart revealing a table on which was a large
gramophone.
Cousin Tom manipulated the instrument and the children heard orchestral
music, plantation songs, comic speeches, and finally the exhibition-day
exercises of a district school, which made them all laugh. After this,
several of the guests were called on to recite or to sing, and as they had
been notified beforehand, they were prepared for the occasion, and exerted
their best elocutionary and vocal efforts.
As her contribution to the entertainment, Patty sang several of Robert
Louis Stevenson's child-songs, which are set to such beautiful music, and
Ruth recited a portion of "The Courtship of Miles Standish."
Then the curtains were drawn, and soon after the lights in the room were
all turned out. Then the curtains flew open again disclosing a white sheet
brightly illuminated from behind.
Somebody read aloud the poem by Richard Barham about "The Knight and the
Lady," while a shadow pantomime representing the action of the ballad was
shown on the sheet.
It was very funny.
Cousin Elizabeth was the Lady Jane, who was "tall and slim," while the part
of Sir Thomas was wonderfully well acted by Cousin Tom, and when that
portly old gentleman, who it seems was a naturalist, went around
"unearthing his worms and his grubs," he looked very funny indeed.
And then when
"Close by the side
Of the bank he espied
An uncommon fine tadpole, remarkably fat;
He stooped, and he thought her his own, he had caught her,
Got hold of her tail, and to land almost brought her,
When, he plumped head and heels into fifteen feet water,"
and the shadow Sir Thomas ducked suddenly into the pond, and a very real
splashing was heard, the delighted audience fairly shouted with laughter.
And then when the funny old gardener appeared, bringing to the august Lady
Jane the news of Sir Thomas' fate, and when the jocund Captain McBride
tried to console the weeping lady,--but, no, I can't tell it all to you; to
see how funny it all was you will have to read the ballad in the "Ingoldsby
Legends" for yourself.
When that was over, sandwiches, ices and cakes were served and they seemed
to be as thoroughly enjoyed by the young people as were Aunt Isabel's
elaborate feasts, though by contrast it seemed to Patty a very slight
repast.
Next came the "Quotation Salad" which was Ruth's pride and delight.
Cousin Elizabeth passed around a great bowl, which seemed to be full of
leaves of crisp, green lettuce.
They were, however, made of tissue paper, and each leaf had attached to it
a strip of writing paper on which was written a quotation.
These were from well-known poems or historic speeches, or even from Mother
Goose's Melodies and other juvenile classics.
Each child drew out three leaves, and endeavored to remember or guess the
source of the quotations written thereon.
Then the roll was called, and all who could give their three answers
correctly were marked one hundred.
After this, the unguessed ones were read aloud, and whoever could answer
them received ten more on his or her score for each perfect answer.
To the child attaining the highest score, a prize of a Dictionary of
Quotations was to be awarded.
Patty's three questions were easy enough. One was "His cause is marching
on."
Another was "Twinkle, twinkle little bat," and the third was "Don't give up
the ship."
She could place all three, but when the more difficult ones were announced,
she found that she knew very little about general literature.
Ruth, however, could tell the author of nearly every one, and no one was
surprised when her score was declared the highest.
However, as she was the hostess, she declined to accept the prize, and it
was given to the guest whose score stood the next highest.
Other intellectual or literary games were played, and at eleven o'clock the
children were sent home, and Aunt Hester bade Ruth and Patty go to bed at
once, lest they should not feel like getting up at the usual hour the next
morning.
Patty heartily thanked Cousin Elizabeth for taking so much pains to make
the party a pleasant one, and ran away to bed, wondering if many little
girls had such clever relatives.
The spring flew by, and Patty could scarcely realize that she had been in
Boston nearly three months, when a letter came from Mrs. Barlow her
mother's sister, at whose house she was to visit next.
"My dear Patty," her Aunt Grace wrote, "we are going to our country home on
Long Island about the first of June, and we want you to come to us as soon
as we get settled there. No,--not settled, we're never that, but as soon as
we get enough things straightened out to live with. Our country-place is
called 'The Hurly-Burly,' so you may prepare yourself to see a family that
lives up to that name. But there is plenty of amusement, if you are fond of
boating and bathing, and we will all welcome you with open arms and glad
hearts; and the sooner you come, the better we shall like it. Your cousins,
Bob and Bumble are very anxious to see you, and are making wonderful plans
for your entertainment. So come as soon as you can, and if you will let us
know at what hour to expect you, Uncle Theodore will meet you at the Grand
Central Station in New York, and bring you over to us at Long Island.
"Your loving Aunt,
"GRACE BARLOW."
"But I don't want you to go," said Ruth, when she heard the letter read;
"I'd like to have you stay here always."
Patty was surprised at this, for Ruth had always seemed so cold and
unresponsive, that it didn't seem as if she had any affection in her
nature.
The other members of the Fleming family echoed Ruth's sentiments, and
though Patty felt sure their expressions were honestly meant, yet she
thought, too, that as soon as she had gone, she would be forgotten in the
rush of their busy life.
One morning in early June as they sat at the breakfast-table, Patty
received a telegram, which said:
"Come at once before all are drowned. Grand Central five.
"HELEN BARLOW."
Although Patty didn't know it, Helen was the real name of her cousin who
was always called Bumble, and Patty, horror-stricken at the import of this
message, read it aloud, asking what it could mean.
The Fleming family were entirely unacquainted with the Barlows, and could
give no clue, but one and all were filled with consternation at the
peremptory summons.
Cousin Tom took the yellow paper and perused it carefully, then said:
"One thing is clear, at any rate, Patty, they expect you to be at the Grand
Central Station in New York to-day at five o'clock, and you shall be there,
for I'll take you myself."
So they all helped with the packing, and succeeded in getting one trunk
ready for Patty to take with her, promising to send her other belongings
after her a few days later.
With hurried good-byes and a promise of another visit to Boston at some
future time, Patty went away with Cousin Tom, and they took the train for
New York.