AT THE SEASHORE
Toward the end of August the Barlows' visit drew toward its close.
Although Patty was sorry to have her cousins go, yet she looked forward
with a certain sense of relief to being once more alone with her father.
"It's lovely to have company," she confided to her Aunt Alice one day,
"and I do enjoy it ever so much, only somehow I get tired of ordering and
looking after things day after day."
"All housekeepers have that experience, Patty, dear," said Aunt Alice,
"but they're usually older than you before they begin. It is a great deal
of care for a girl of sixteen, and though you get along beautifully, I'm
sure it has been rather a hard summer for you."
So impressed was Mrs. Elliott with these facts that she talked to Mr.
Fairfield about the matter, and advised him to take Patty away somewhere
for a little rest and change before beginning her school year again.
Mr. Fairfield agreed heartily to this plan, expressed himself as willing
to take Patty anywhere, and suggested that some of the Elliotts go, too.
When Patty's opinion was asked, she said she would be delighted to go
away for a vacation, and that she had the place all picked out.
"Well, you are an expeditious young woman," said her father. "And where
is it that you want to go?"
"Why, you see, papa, the 1st of September, when Bob and Bumble go home
from here, Nan isn't going back with them; she's going down to Spring
Lake. That's a place down on the New Jersey coast, and I've never been
there, and she says it's lovely, and so I want to go there."
"Well, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't," said Mr. Fairfield. "It
would suit me well enough, if Nan is willing we should follow in her
footsteps."
"I'm delighted to have you," said Nan, who was in a hammock at the other
end of the veranda when this conclave was taking place.
"I wish we could go with the crowd," said Bob, who was perched on the
veranda railing.
"I wish so, too," said Bumble; "but wishing doesn't do any good. After
that letter father wrote yesterday, I think the best thing for us to do
is to scurry home as fast as we can."
So the plans were made according to Patty's wish, and a few days after
the Barlow twins returned to their home, a merry party left Vernondale
for Spring Lake.
This party consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Elliott and Marian, Mr. Fairfield,
Patty, and Nan.
They had all arranged for rooms in the same hotel to which Nan was going,
and where her parents were awaiting her.
Marlborough House was its name, and very attractive and comfortable it
looked to the Vernondale people as they arrived about four o'clock one
afternoon in early September.
Mr. and Mrs. Allen proved to be charming people who were more than ready
to show any courtesies in their power to the Fairfields, who had so
kindly entertained Nan.
Although an older couple than the Elliotts, they proved to be congenial
companions, and after a day or two the whole party felt as if they had
known each other all their lives. Acquaintances ripen easily at the
seashore, and Patty soon came to the conclusion that she was beginning
what was to be one of the pleasantest experiences of her life.
And so it proved; although Mr. Fairfield announced that Patty had come
down for a rest, and that there was to be very little, if any, gaiety
allowed, yet somehow there was always something pleasant going on.
Every day there was salt-water bathing, and this was a great delight to
Patty. The summer before, at her uncle's home on Long Island, she had
learned to swim, and though it was more difficult to swim in the surf,
yet it was also more fun. Nan was an expert swimmer, and Marian knew
nothing of the art, but the three girls enjoyed splashing about in the
water, and were never quite ready to come out when Aunt Alice or Mrs.
Allen called to them from the beach.
In the afternoons there were long walks or drives along the shore, and
the exercise and salt air soon restored to Patty the robust health and
strength which her father feared she had lost during the summer.
In the evening there was dancing--sometimes hops, but more often informal
dancing among the young people staying at the hotel. All three of our
girls were fond of dancing, and excelled in the art, but Patty was
especially graceful and skillful.
The first Saturday night after their arrival at Marlborough House, a
large dance was to be held, and this was really Patty's first experience
at what might be termed a ball.
She was delighted with the prospect, and her father had ordered her a
beautiful new frock from New York, which proved to be rather longer than
any she had as yet worn.
"I feel so grown up in it," she exclaimed, as she tried it on to show her
father. "I think I'll have to do up my hair when I wear this grand
costume; It doesn't seem just right to have it tied up with a little
girl hair-ribbon."
"Patty, my child, I do believe you're growing up!" said her father.
"I do believe I am, papa; I'm almost seventeen, and I'm taller than Aunt
Alice now, and a lot taller than Marian."
"It isn't only your height, child, you always were a big girl. But you
seem to be growing up in other ways, and I don't believe I like it I
was glad when you were no longer a child, but I like to have you a
little girl, and I don't believe I'll care for you a bit when you're a
young woman."
"Now, isn't that too bad!" said Patty, pinching her father's cheek. "I
suppose I'll have to suit myself with another father--I'm sure I couldn't
live with anybody who didn't like me a bit. Well, perhaps Uncle Charley
will adopt me; he seems to like me at any age."
"Oh, I'll try and put up with you," said her father, kissing her. "And
meantime, what's this talk about piling up your hair on top of your head.
Is it really absolutely necessary to do so, if you wear this frippery
confection of dry-goods?"
"Oh, not necessary, perhaps, but I think it would look better. At any
rate, I'll just try it."
"Well, you don't seem to be standing with very _reluctant_ feet," said
her father. "I believe you're rather anxious to grow up, after all; but
run along, chicken, and dress your hair any way you please. I want you to
have a good time at your first ball."
As Frank Elliott and Kenneth Harper and Mr. Hepworth came down to Spring
Lake to stay over Sunday, the party of friends at Marlborough House was
considerably augmented. When the young men arrived the girls were lazily
basking on the sand, and Nan was pretending to read a book to the other
two. Only pretending, however, for Patty kept interrupting her with
nonsensical remarks, and Marian teased her by slowly sifting sand through
her fingers onto the pages of the book.
"I might as well try to read to a tribe of wild Indians as to you two
girls," said Nan at last. "Don't you _want_ your minds improved?"
"Do you think our superior minds _can_ be improved by that trash you're
reading?" said Patty. "I really think some of your instructive
conversation would benefit us more greatly."
"You're an ungrateful pair," said Nan, "and you don't deserve that I
should waste my valuable conversation upon you. And you don't deserve,
either, that I should tell you to turn your heads around to see who's
coming--but I will."
Her hearers looked round quickly, and saw three familiar figures coming
along the board walk.
"Goody!" cried Patty, and scrambling to her feet, she ran with
outstretched hands to meet them.
She didn't look very grown up then, in her blue-serge beach dress and her
hair in a long thick braid down her back, and curling round her temples
in windblown locks; but to Mr. Hepworth's artist eye she looked more
beautiful than he had ever seen her.
Kenneth Harper, too, looked admiringly at the graceful figure flying
toward them across the sand, but Frank shouted:
"Hello, Patty, don't break your neck! we're coming down there.
Where's Marian?"
"She's right here," answered Patty; "we're all right here. Your mother's
up on the veranda. Oh, I'm so glad to see you! This is the loveliest
place, and we're having the beautifullest time; and now that you boys
have come, it will be better than ever. And there's going to be a hop
tonight! Isn't that gay? Oh, how do you do, Mr. Hepworth?"
Though Patty's manner took on a shade more of dignity in addressing the
older man, it lost nothing in cordiality, and he responded with words of
glad greeting.
Hearing the laughter and excitement, Aunt Alice and Mrs. Allen came down
from the veranda to sit on the sand by the young people. Soon Mr.
Fairfield and Mr. Allen and Mr. Elliott, returning from a stroll, joined
the party.
The newcomers produced divers and sundry parcels, which they turned over
to the ladies, and which proved to contain various new books and
magazines and delicious candies and fruits.
"It's just like Christmas!" exclaimed Patty. "I do love to have things
brought to me."
"You're certainly in your element now, then," said Mr. Fairfield, looking
at his daughter, who sat with a fig in one hand and a chocolate in the
other, trying to open a book with her elbows.
"I certainly am," she responded. "The only flaw is that I suppose it's
about time to go in to dinner. I wish we could all sit here on the
sand forever."
"You'd change your mind when you reached my age," said Mrs. Allen. "I'm
quite ready to go in now and find a more comfortable chair."
Later that evening Patty, completely arrayed for the dance, came to her
father for inspection.
"You look very sweet, my child," he said after gazing at her long and
earnestly; "and with your hair dressed that way you look very much like
your mother. I'm sorry you're growing up, my baby, I certainly am; but I
suppose it can't be helped unless the world stops turning around. And if
it's any satisfaction to you, I'd like to have you know that your father
thinks you the prettiest and sweetest girl in all the country round."
"And aren't you going to tell me that if I only behave as well as I look,
I'll do very nicely?"
"You seem to know that already, so I hardly think it's necessary."
"Well, I'll tell it to you, then; for you do look so beautiful in
evening clothes that I don't believe you _can_ behave as well as you
look. Nobody could."
"I see your growing up has taught you flattery," said her father, "a
habit you must try to overcome."
But Patty was already dancing down the long hall to Aunt Alice's room,
and a few moments later they all went down to the parlours.
When Kenneth first saw Patty that evening, he stood looking at her with a
funny, stupefied expression on his face.
"What's the matter?" said Patty, laughing. "Just because I'm wearing a
few extra hairpins you needn't look as if you'd lost your last friend."
"I--I feel as if I ought to call you Miss Fairfield."
"Well, call me that if you like, I don't mind. Call me Miss Smith or Miss
Brown, if you want to--I don't care what you call me, if you'll only ask
me to dance."
"Come on, then," said Kenneth; and in a moment they were whirling in the
waltz, and the boy's momentary embarrassment was entirely forgotten.