CHAPTER IV

BOXLEY HALL

After consultation with various real estate agents, and after due

consideration of the desirable houses they had to offer, Mr. Fairfield

came to the conclusion that the Bigelow house, which Marian had

suggested, was perhaps the most attractive of any.

And so, one afternoon, a party of very interested people went over to

look at it.

The procession was headed by Patty and Marian, followed by Mr. Fairfield

and Aunt Alice, while Frank and his father brought up the rear. But as

they were going out of the Elliotts' front gate, Laura Russell came

flying across the street.

"Where are all you people going?" she cried. "I know you're going to look

at a house. Which one?"

"The Bigelow house," said Marian, "and I'm almost sure Uncle Fred will

decide to take it. Come on with us; we're going all through it."

"No," said Laura, looking disappointed, "I don't want to go; and I don't

want the Fairfields to live in that house anyway. If they would only look

at that little cottage next-door to us, I know they'd like it ever so

much better. Oh, please, Mr. Fairfield, won't you come over and look at

it now? It's so pretty and cunning, and it has the loveliest garden and

chicken-coop and everything."

"I don't want a chicken-coop," said Patty, laughing; "I've no chickens,

and I don't want any."

"Our chickens are over there most of the time," said Laura.

"Then, of course, we ought to have a coop to keep our neighbours'

chickens in," said Mr. Fairfield; "and if this cottage is as delightful

as Miss Russell makes it out, I think it's our duty at least to go and

look at it. If the rest of you are willing, suppose we go over there

first, and then if we _should_ decide not to take it, we'll have time to

investigate the Bigelow afterward"

Marian looked so woe-begone that Patty laughed.

"Cheer up, girl," she said; "there isn't one chance in a million of our

taking that doll's house, but Laura will never give us a minute's peace

until we go and look at it; so we may as well go now, and get it over."

"All right," said Marian; and Patty, with her two girl friends on either

side of her, started in the direction of the cottage.

But when they reached it, Mr. Fairfield exclaimed in amazement. "That

little house?" he said. "Oh, I see; that's the chicken-coop you spoke of.

Well, where is the house?"

"This is the house," said Laura; "but, somehow, it does look smaller than

usual; still, it's a great deal bigger inside."

"No doubt," said Frank. "I've often noticed that the inside of a house is

much larger than the outside. Of course, we can't all go in at once, but

I'm willing to wait my turn. Who will go first?"

"Very well, you may stay outside," said Laura. "I think the rest of us

can all squeeze in at once, if we try."

But Frank followed the rest of the party, and, passing through the narrow

hall, they entered the tiny parlour.

"I never was in such a crowded room," said Marian. "I can scarcely get my

breath. I had no idea there were so many of us."

"Well, you're not going to live here," said Laura. "There's room enough

for just Patty and her father."

"There is, if we each take a room to ourself," said Mr. Fairfield. "You

may have this parlour, my daughter, and I'll take the library. Where is

the library, Miss Russell?"

"I think it has just stepped out," said Frank; "at any rate, it isn't on

this floor; there's only this room, and the dining-room, and a kitchen

cupboard."

"Very likely the library is on the third floor," said Marian; "that would

be convenient."

"There isn't any third floor," explained Laura. "This is what they call

a story-and-a-half house."

"It would have to be expanded into a serial story, then, before it would

do for us," said Mr. Fairfield. "We may not be such big people, but Patty

and I have a pretty large estimate of ourselves, and I am sure we never

could live in such a short-story-and-a-half as this seems to be."

"Indeed, we couldn't, papa," said Patty. "Just look at this dining-room.

I'm sure it's only big enough for one. We would have to have our meals

alternately; you could have breakfast, and I would have dinner one day,

and the next day we'd reverse the order."

"Come, look at the kitchen, Patty," called out Frank; "or at least stick

your head in; there isn't room for all of you. See the stationary tubs.

Two of them, you see; each just the size of a good comfortable

coffee-cup."

"Just exactly," said Patty, laughing; "why, I never saw such a house.

Laura Russell, what were you thinking of?"

"Oh, of course, you could add to it," said Laura. "You could build on

as many more rooms as you wanted, and you could run it up another story

and a half, and that would make three stories; and I do want you to

live near me."

"We're sorry not to live near you, Miss Laura," said Mr. Fairfield; "but

I can't see my way clear to do it unless you would move into this

bandbox, and let us have your roomy and comfortable mansion next door."

"Oh, there wouldn't be room for our family here," said Laura.

"But you could build on a whole lot of rooms," said Frank, "and add

enough stories to make it a sky-scraper; and put in an elevator, and it

would be perfectly lovely."

Laura laughed with the rest, and then, at Mrs. Elliott's suggestion, they

all started back to the Bigelow house.

"Now, this is something like," said Marian, as they went in at the gate

and up the broad front walk.

"Like what?" said Frank.

"Like a home for the Fairfields. What shall you call it--Fairfield Hall,

Fairfield Place, or what?"

"I don't know," cried Patty, dashing up the veranda steps. "But isn't it

a dear house! I feel at home here already. This big piazza will be lovely

in warm weather. There's room for hammocks, and big chairs, and little

tables, and everything."

Inside, the house proved very attractive. The large square hall opened

into a parlour on one side and a library on the other. Back of the

library was a little conservatory, and beyond that a large, light

dining-room with an open fireplace.

"Here's a kitchen worth having," said Aunt Alice, who was investigating

ahead of the rest; "and such convenient pantries and cupboards."

"And this back veranda is great," said Frank, opening the door from a

little hall.

"Oh, yes," said Patty; "see the dead vines. In the summer it must have

honeysuckles all over it. And there's the little arbour at the foot of

the garden. I'm going down to see it."

Marian started to follow her, but Laura called her back to show her some

new attraction, and Patty ran alone down the veranda steps, and through

the box-bordered paths to the little rustic arbour.

"Goodness!" she exclaimed, as she reached it. "Who in the world are you?"

For inside the arbour sat a strange-looking girl of about Patty's own

age. She was a tall, thin child, with a pale face, large black eyes, and

straight black hair, which hung in wisps about her ears.

"I'm Pansy," she said, clasping her hands in front of her, and looking

straight into Patty's face.

"You're Pansy, are you?" said Patty, looking puzzled. "And what are you

doing here, Pansy?"

"Well, miss, you see it's this way. I want to go out to service; and when

I heard you was going to have a house of your own, I thought maybe you'd

take me to work for you."

"Oh, you did! Well, why didn't you come and apply to me, then, in proper

fashion, and not sit out here waiting for me to come to you? Suppose I

hadn't come?"

"I was sure you'd come, miss. Everybody who looks at this house comes out

to look at the arbour; but there hasn't been anybody before that I wanted

to work for. Please take me, miss; I'll be faithful and true."

"What can you do?" asked Patty, half laughing, and half pitying the

strange-looking girl. "Can you cook?"

"No, ma'am, I can't cook; but I might learn it. But I didn't mean that. I

thought you'd have a cook, and you'd take me for a table girl, you know;

and to tidy up after you."

"I do want a waitress; but have you had any experience?"

"No, ma'am," said the girl very earnestly, "I haven't, but I'm just sure

I could learn. If you just tell me a thing once, you needn't ever tell it

to me again. That's something, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is," said Patty, remembering a certain careless waitress at

Mrs. Elliott's. "Have you any references?"

"No," said the girl, smiling; "you see, I've never lived anywhere except

home, and I suppose mother's reference wouldn't count."

"It would with me," said Patty decidedly. "I think your mother ought

to know more about you than anybody else. What would she say if I

asked her?"

"She'd say I was careless and heedless and thoughtless, and didn't know

anything," replied the girl cheerfully; "and I am that way at home, but I

wouldn't be if I worked for you, because I want to be a waitress, and a

good one; and you'd see how quick I'd learn. Oh, do take me, miss. You'll

never be sorry, and that's sure!"

This statement was accompanied by such decided gestures of head and hands

that Patty was very nearly convinced to the contrary, but she only said,

"I'm sorry, Pansy,--you said your name was Pansy, didn't you?"

"Yes, miss,--Pansy Potts."

"What an extraordinary name!"

"Is it, miss? Well, you see, my father's name was Potts; and mother named

me Pansy, because she's so fond of the flower. You don't think the name

will interfere with my being a waitress, do you?"

"Not so far as I'm concerned," said Patty, laughing; "but, you see, I

shall be a very inexperienced housekeeper, and if I have an inexperienced

waitress also, I don't know what might happen."

"Why, now, miss; it seems to me that that would work out just right.

You're a young housekeeper, but I expect you know just about what a

waitress ought to do, and you could teach me; and I know a lot about

housekeeping, and I could teach you."

The sincerity in Pansy's voice and manner impressed Patty, and she looked

at her closely, as she said:

"It does seem good proportion."

"It is," said Pansy; "and you've no idea how quickly I can learn."

"Can you?" said Patty. "Well, then, learn first to call me Miss Patty. It

would suit me much better than to hear you say 'miss' so often."

"Yes, Miss Patty."

"And don't wring your hands in that absurd fashion, and don't stand

first on one foot and then on the other, as if you were scared out of

your wits."

"No, Miss Patty."

Pansy ceased shuffling, dropped her hands naturally to her sides, and

stood in the quiet, respectful attitude that Patty had unconsciously

assumed while speaking.

Delighted at this quick-witted mimicry, Patty exclaimed:

"I believe you will do. I believe you are just the one; but I can't

decide positively, now. You go home, Pansy, and come to-morrow afternoon

to see me at Mrs. Elliott's. Do you know where I live?"

"Yes, Miss Patty," and, with a respectful little bob of her head, Pansy

Potts disappeared, and Patty ran back to the house.

"Well, chickadee," said Mr. Fairfield, "I have about decided that

you and I can make ourselves comfortable within these four walls,

and, if it suits your ladyship, I think we'll consider that we have

taken the house."

"It does suit me," said Patty. "I'm perfectly satisfied; and _I_ have

taken a house-maid."

"Where did you get her?" exclaimed Frank. "Do they grow on trees in the

garden? I saw you out in the arbour with one."

"Yes," said Patty; "I picked her off a tree. She isn't quite ripe, but

she's not so very green; and I think she'll do. Never mind about her now.

I can't decide until I've had a talk with Aunt Alice. I'm so glad you

decided on this house, papa. Oh, isn't it lovely to have a home! It looks

rather bare, to be sure, but, be it ever so empty, there's no place like

home. Now, what shall we name it? I do like a nice name for a place."

"It has so many of those little boxwood Hedges," said Aunt Alice, looking

out of the window, "that you might call it The Boxwood House."

"Oh, don't call it a wood-house," said Uncle Charley.

"Call it the wood-box, and be done with it," Frank.

"I like 'Hall,'" said Patty. "How is Boxwood Hall?"

"Sounds like Locksley Hall," said Marian.

"More like Boxley Hall," said Frank.

"Boxley Hall!" cried Patty. "That's just the thing! I like that."

"Rather a pretentious name to live up to," said Mr. Fairfield.

"Never mind," said Patty. "With Pansy Potts for a waitress, we can live

up to any name."

And so Patty's new home was chosen, and its name was Boxley Hall.

Patty at Home · 第 4 / 24 章