AN AFTERNOON DRIVE
The next Saturday Mr. Fairfield proposed that they all go for a drive
to Allaire.
"What's Allaire?" said Patty.
"It's a deserted village," replied her father. "The houses are empty, the
old mill is silent, the streets are overgrown; in fact, it's nothing but
a picturesque ruin of a once busy hamlet."
"They say it's a lovely drive," said Nan. "I've always wanted to
go there."
"The boys will be down by noon," said Mr. Elliott, "and we can get off
soon after luncheon. Do you suppose, Fred, we can get conveyances enough
for our large and flourishing family?"
"We can try," said Mr. Fairfield. "I'll go over to the stables now and
see what I can secure."
On his return he found that Hepworth, Kenneth, and Frank had arrived.
"Well, Saturday's children," he said, "I'm glad to see you. I always
know it's the last day of the week when this illustrious trio bursts
upon my vision."
"We're awfully glad to burst," said Frank; "and we hope your vision can
stand it."
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Fairfield; "the sight of you is good for the eyes.
And now I'll tell you the plans for the afternoon."
"What luck did you have with the carriages, papa?" asked impatient Patty.
"That's what I'm about to tell you, my child, if you'll give me half a
chance. I secured four safe, and more or less commodious, vehicles."
"Four!" exclaimed Marian. "We'll be a regular parade."
"Shall we have a band?" asked Nan.
"Of course," said Kenneth; "and a fife-and-drum corps besides."
"You won't need that," said Patty, "for there'll be no 'Girl I Left
Behind Me.' We're all going."
"Of course we're all going," said Mr. Fair-field; "and as we shall
have one extra seat, you can invite some girl who otherwise would be
left behind."
"If Frank doesn't mind," said Patty, with a mischievous glance at her
cousin, "I'd like to ask Miss Kitty Nelson."
They all laughed, for Frank's admiration for the charming Kitty was an
open secret.
Frank blushed a little, but he held his own and said:
"Are they all double carriages, Uncle Fred?"
"No, my boy; there are two traps and two victorias."
"All right, then, I'll take one of the traps and drive Miss Nelson."
"Bravo, boy! if you don't see what you want, ask for it. Miss Allen, will
you trust yourself to me in the other trap?"
"With great pleasure, Mr. Fairfield," replied Nan; "and please
appreciate my amiability, for I think they're most jolty and
uncomfortable things to ride in."
"I speak for a seat in one of the victorias," said Aunt Alice; "and I
think it wise to get my claim in quickly, as the bids are being made
so rapidly."
"I don't care how I go," said Patty, "or what I go in. I'm so amiable, a
child can play with me to-day. I'll go in a wheelbarrow, if necessary."
"I had hoped to drive you over myself," said Mr. Hepworth, who sat next
to her, speaking in a low tone; "but I'll push you in a wheelbarrow, if
you prefer."
"You go with me, Patty, in one of the traps, won't you?" said Kenneth,
who sat on the veranda railing at her other side.
Patty's face took on a comical smile of amusement at these two requests,
but she answered both at once by merrily saying:
"Then it all adjusts itself. Mr. and Mrs. Allen and Mr. and Mrs. Elliott
shall have the most comfortable carriage, and Marian and Mr. Hepworth and
Ken and I will go in the other."
That seemed to be the, best possible arrangement, and about three
o'clock the procession started.
Patty and Marian took the back seat of the open carriage, Mr. Hepworth
and Kenneth Harper sat facing them.
As Marian had already become very much interested in her new fad of
authorship, and as under Miss Fischer's tuition she was rapidly
developing into a real little blue-stocking, it is not strange that the
conversation turned in that direction.
"I looked in all the bookshops in the city for your latest works, Miss
Marian," said Mr. Hepworth, "but they must have been all sold out, for I
couldn't find any."
"Too bad," said Marian. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait until a new
edition is printed."
"You're not to tease Marian," said Patty reprovingly. "She's been as
patient as an angel under a perfect storm of chaff, and I'm not going to
allow any more of it."
"I don't mind," said Marian. "I think, if one is really in earnest, one
oughtn't to be annoyed by good-natured fun."
"Quite right," said Kenneth; "and ambition, if it's worth anything,
ought to rise above comment of any sort."
"It ought to be strengthened by comment of any sort," said Mr. Hepworth.
"Of any sort?" asked Marian thoughtfully.
"Yes, for comment always implies recognition, and that in itself means
progress."
"Have you an ambition, Mr. Hepworth?" said Patty suddenly. "But you have
already achieved yours. You are a successful artist."
"A man may have more than one ambition," said Mr. Hepworth slowly, "and I
have _not_ achieved my dearest one."
"I suppose you want to paint even better than you do," said Patty.
"Yes," said the artist, smiling a little, "I hope I shall always want to
paint better than I do. What's your ambition, Harper?"
"To build bridges," said Kenneth. "I'm going to be a civil engineer, but
my ambition is to be a bridge-builder. And I'll get there yet," he added,
with a determined nod of his head.
"I think you will," said Mr. Hepworth, "and I'm sure I hope so."
Then the talk turned to lighter themes than ambition, and merry laughter
and jest filled up the miles to Allaire.
All were delighted with the place. Aside from the picturesque ruined
buildings and the eerie mysterious-looking old mill, there was a novel
interest in the strange silent air of desertion that seemed to invest the
place with an almost palpable loneliness.
"I don't like it," said Patty. "Come on, let's go home."
But to Marian's more romantic imagination it all seemed most attractive,
so different was her temperament from that of her sunshiny,
merry-hearted cousin.
At last they did go home, and Patty chattered gaily all the way in
order, as she said, to drive away the musty recollections of that
forlorn old place.
"How did you like it, Nan?" she asked, when they were all back at
the hotel.
"I thought it beautiful," said Nan, smiling.
That evening there was a small informal dance in the parlours. Not a
large hop, like the one given the week before, but Patty declared the
small affair was just as much fun as the other.
"I always have all the fun I can possibly hold, anyway," she said; "and
what more can anybody have?"
Toward the close of the evening Mr. Fairfield came up to Patty, who
was sitting, with a crowd of merry young people, in a cosey corner of
the veranda.
"Patty," he said, "don't you want to come for a little stroll on the
board walk?"
"Yes, of course I do," said Patty, wondering a little, but always ready
to go with her father. "Is Nan going?"
"No, I just want you," said Mr. Fairfield.
"All right," said Patty, "I'm glad to go."
They joined the crowd of promenaders on the board walk, and as they
passed Patty's favourite bit of beach she said:
"That's where we girls sit and talk about our ambitions."
"Yes, so I've heard," said Mr. Fairfield. "And what are your
ambitions, baby?"
"Oh, mine aren't half so grand and gorgeous as the other girls'. They
want to do great things, like singing in grand opera and writing immortal
books and things like that."
"And your modest ambition is to be a good housekeeper, isn't it?"
"Well, yes, papa; but not only that. I was thinking about it afterward by
myself, and I think that the housekeeping is the practical part of
it--and that's a good big part too--but what I really want to be is a
lovely, good, _womanly_ woman, like Aunt Alice, you know. I don't believe
she ever wanted to write books or paint pictures."
"No she never did," said Mr. Fairfield, "and I quite agree with you that
her ambitions are just as high and noble as those others you mentioned."
"Well, I'm glad you think so, papa, for I was afraid I might seem to you
very small and petty to have all my ambitions bounded by the four walls
of my own home."
"No, Patty, girl, I think those are far better than unbounded ambitions,
far more easily realised, and will bring you greater and better
happiness. But don't you see, my child, that the very fact of your having
a talent--which you certainly have--for housekeeping and home-making,
implies that some day, in the far future, I hope, you will go away from
me and make a home of your own?"
"Very likely I shall, papa; but that's so far in the future that it's not
worth while bothering about it now."
"But I'm going to bother about it now to a certain extent. Do you
realise that when this does come to pass, be it ever so far hence, that
you're going to leave your poor old father all alone, and that, too,
after I have so carefully brought you up for the express purpose of
making a home for me?"
"Well, what are you going to do about it?" said Patty, who was by no
means taking her father's remarks seriously.
"Do? Why, I'm going to do just this. I'm going to get somebody else to
keep my house for me, and I'm going to get her now, so that I'll have
her ready against the time you leave me."
Patty turned, and by the light of an electric lamp which they were
passing, saw the smile on her father's face, and with a sudden intuition
she exclaimed:
"Nan!"
"Yes," replied her father, "Nan. How do you like it?"
"Like it?" exclaimed Patty. "I _love_ it! I think it's perfectly
gorgeous! I'm just as delighted as I can be! How does Nan like it?"
"She seems delighted too," said Mr. Fairfield, smiling.
THE END