SHOPPING
As Boxley Hall was a sort of experiment, Mr. Fairfield concluded to rent
the place for a year, with the privilege of buying.
By this time Patty was sure that she wished to remain in Vernondale all
her life; but her father said that women, even very young ones, were
fickle in their tastes, and he thought it wiser to be on the safe side.
"And it doesn't matter," as Patty said to Marian; "for, when the year is
up, papa will just buy the house, and then it will be all right."
Having found a home, the next thing was to furnish it; and about this Mr.
Fairfield was very decided and methodical.
"To-morrow," he said, as they were talking it over at the Elliotts' one
evening, "to-morrow I shall take Patty to New York to select the most
important pieces of furniture. We shall go alone, because it is a very
special occasion, and we can't allow ourselves to be hampered by outside
advices. Another day we shall go to buy prosaic things like tablecloths
and carpet-sweepers; and then, as we know little about such things, we
shall be glad to take with us some experienced advisers."
And so the next day Patty and her father started for the city to buy
furniture for Boxley Hall.
"You see, Patty," said her father after they were seated in the train,
"there is a certain proportion to be observed in furnishing a house,
about which, I imagine, you know very little."
"Very little, indeed," returned Patty; "but, then, how should I know such
things when I've never furnished a house?"
"I understand that," said Mr. Fairfield; "and so, with my advantages
of age and experience, and your own natural good taste, I think we
shall accomplish this thing successfully. Now, first, as to what we
have on hand."
"Why, we haven't anything on hand," said Patty; "at least, I have a
few pictures and books, and the afghan grandma's knitting for me; but
that's all."
"You reckon without your host," said her father, smiling. "I possess some
few objects of value, and during the past year I have added to my
collection in anticipation of the time when we should have our own home."
"Oh, papa!" cried Patty; "have you a whole lot of new furniture that I
don't know about?"
"Yes," said Mr. Fairfield; "except, that, instead of being new, it is
mostly old. I had opportunities in the South to pick up bits of fine old
mahogany, and I have a number of really good pieces that will help to
make Boxley Hall attractive."
"What are they, papa? Tell me all about them. I can't wait another
minute!"
"To begin with, child, I have several heirlooms; the old sideboard that
was your grandfather Fairfield's, and several old bureaus and tables that
came from the Fairfield estate. Then I have, also, two or three beautiful
book-cases, and an old desk for our library; and to-day we will hunt up
some sort of a big roomy table that will do to go with them."
"Let's make the library the nicest room in the house, papa."
"It will make itself that, if you give it half a chance, though we'll do
all we can to help. But I'm so prosaic I would like to have special
attention paid to the comforts of the dining-room; and as to your own
bedroom, Patty, I want you to see to it that it fulfills exactly your
ideal of what a girl's room ought to be."
"Oh, I know just how I want that; almost exactly like my room at Aunt
Alice's, but with a few more of the sort of things I had in my room at
Aunt Isabel's. I do like pretty things, papa."
"That's right, my child, I'm glad you do; and I think your idea of pretty
things is not merely a taste for highfalutin gimcracks."
"No, I don't think it is," said Patty slowly; "but, all the same, you'd
better keep pretty close to me when I pick out the traps for my room. Do
you know, papa, I think Aunt Isabel wants to help us furnish our house.
She wrote that she would meet us in New York some time."
"That's kind of her," said Mr. Fairfield; "but, do _you_ know, it just
seems to me that we'll be able to manage it by ourselves. Our house is
not of the era of Queen Isabella, but of the Princess Patricia."
"That sounds like Aunt Isabel. They always called me Patricia there.
Don't you think, papa, now that I'm getting so grown up, I ought to be
called Patricia? Patty is such a baby name."
"Patty is good enough for me," said Mr. Fairfield. "If you want to be
called Patricia, you must get somebody else to do it. I dare say you
could hire somebody for a small sum per week to call you Patricia for a
given number of times every day."
"Now, you're making fun of me, papa; but I do want to grow up dignified,
and not be a silly schoolgirl all my life."
"Take care of your common sense, and your dignity will take care
of itself."
After they crossed the ferry, and reached the New York side, Mr.
Fairfield took a cab, and they made a round of the various shops, buying
such beautiful things that Patty grew fairly ecstatic with delight.
"I do think you're wonderful, papa," she exclaimed, after they had
selected the dining-room furnishings. "You know exactly what you want,
and when you describe it, it seems to be the only possible thing that
anybody could want for that particular place."
"That is a result of decision of character, my child. It is a Fairfield
trait, and I hope you possess it; though I cannot say I have seen any
marked development of it, as yet. But you must have noticed it in your
Aunt Alice."
"Yes, I have," said Patty; "she is so decided that, with all her
sweetness, I have sometimes been tempted to call her stubborn."
"Stubbornness and decision of character are very closely allied; but
now, we're going to select the furniture for your own bedroom, and if
you have any decision of character, you will have ample opportunity to
exercise it."
"Oh, I'll have plenty of decision of character when it comes to that,"
said Patty; "you will find me a true Fairfield."
Aided by her father's judgment and advice, Patty selected the furnishings
for her own room. She had chosen green as the predominant colour, and the
couch and easy-chairs were upholstered in a lovely design of green and
white. The rug was green and white, and for the brass bedstead with its
white fittings, a down comfortable with a pale green cover was found. The
dainty dressing-table was of bird's-eye maple; and for this Mr. Fairfield
ordered a bewildering array of fittings, all in ivory, with Patty's
monogram on them.
"And I want a little book-case, papa," she said; "a little one, you know,
just for my favouritest books; for, of course, the most of my books will
be down in the library."
So a dear little book-case was bought, also of bird's-eye maple, and a
pretty little work-table, with a low chair to match.
"That's very nice," said Patty, with an air of satisfaction, "for, though
I hate to sew, yet sometimes it must be done; and with that little
work-table, I think I could sew even in an Indian wigwam!"
Patty hadn't much to say regarding the furniture of her father's
bedroom, for Mr. Fairfield attended to that himself, and selected the
things with such rapidity and certainty that it was all done almost
before Patty knew it.
"Now," said Mr. Fairfield, "there are two guest-chambers to be furnished;
the one you call Marian's room, and the other for the general stranger
within our gates."
Marian's room was done up in blue, as she had requested, and the other
guest-room was furnished in yellow.
It was great fun to pick out the furniture, rugs, and curtains for
these rooms; and Patty tried very hard to select such things as her
father would approve of, for she dearly loved to have him commend her
taste and judgment.
As they were sitting at luncheon, Mr. Fairfield said: "This afternoon, I
think, we will devote to pictures. I'm not sure we will buy any, but we
will look at them, and I will learn what is your taste in art, and you
will leant what is mine."
"I haven't any," said Patty cheerfully. "I don't know anything about art
and never did."
"You still have some time, I hope, in which to learn."
"I've time enough, but I don't believe I could learn. The only pictures I
like are pretty ones."
"You _are_ hopeless, and that's a fact," said Mr. Fairfield. "Of all
discouraging people, the worst are those who like pretty pictures!"
"But I'm sure I can learn," said Patty, "if you will teach me."
"You are more flattering than convincing," said Mr. Fairfield, "but I
will try."
And so after luncheon they visited several picture shops, and Mr.
Fairfield imported to his daughter what was at least a foundation for an
education in art.
Back in Vernondale, Patty confided to Marian that she had had a perfectly
lovely time all the morning, but the afternoon wasn't so much fun. "In
fact," she said, "it was very much like that little book we had to study
in school called 'How to Judge a Picture.'"
The following Saturday another shopping tour was undertaken. This time
Aunt Alice and Marian accompanied the Fairfields, and there was more fun
and less responsibility for Patty.
Her father insisted upon her undivided attention while Mrs. Elliott
selected table-linen, bed-linen, towels, and other household fittings;
but, as these things were chosen with Fairfield promptness and decision,
Patty had nothing to do but admire and acquiesce.
"And now," she remarked, after they had chosen two sets of china and a
quantity of glass for the dining-room; "now, if you please, we will buy
me some tea-things to entertain the Tea Club."
"We will, indeed," said Mr. Fairfield, and both he and Aunt Alice entered
into the selection of the tea-table fittings with as much zest as they
had shown in the other china.
Dainty Dresden cups were found, lovely plates, and a tea-pot, and
cracker-jar, which made Marian and Patty fairly shriek with delight.
A three-storied wicker tea-table was found, to hold these treasures, and
Mr. Fairfield added the most fascinating little silver tea-caddy and
tea-ball and strainer.
"Oh," exclaimed Marian, made quite breathless by the glory of it
all, "the Tea Club will never want to meet anywhere except at your
house, Patty."
"They'll have to," said Patty. "I don't propose to have them every time."
"Well, you'll have to have them every other time, anyway," said Marian.
After the fun of picking out the tea-things, it was hard to come down to
the plainer claims of the kitchen, but Aunt Alice grew so interested in
the selection of granite saucepans and patent coffee-mills that Patty,
too, became enthusiastic.
"And we must get a rolling-pin," she cried, "for I shall make pumpkin
pies every day. Oh, and I want a farina-kettle and a colander, and a
_bain-marie,_ and a larding-needle, and a syllabub-churn."
"Why, Patty, child!" exclaimed her father; "what are all those things
for? Are you going to have a French _chef_?"
"No, papa, but I expect to do a great deal of fancy cooking myself."
"Oh, you do! Well, then, buy all the contraptions that are necessary, but
don't omit the plain gridirons and frying-pans."
Then Aunt Alice and Patty put their heads together in a most sensible
fashion, and ordered a kitchen outfit that would have delighted the heart
of any well-organised housekeeper. Not only kitchen utensils, but laundry
fittings, and household furnishings generally; including patent
labour-saving devices, and newly invented contrivances which were
supposed to be of great aid to any housewife.
"If I can only live up to it all," sighed Patty, as she looked at the
enormous collection of iron, tin, wood, and granite.
"Or down to it," said Marian.