voice. "Suppose we go to Griffin's; it is a nice quiet place."
"What time?"
"About one, I think."
"All right, one sharp, then. Sure you've enough money?"
Miss Dorothy nodded. "Quite enough. Dear dad," she said as he moved
off, "he is so generous. I don't believe he has a mean bone in his
body."
This set Marian to wondering if one had a mean bone which it would
be; she thought possibly an elbow; they could be so sharp, but
before she had settled the question Patty began to talk to her and
they were then so busy getting acquainted that there was no time to
think of mean bones or anything else but themselves.
It was a most delightful experience to go around the big shops, and
look at the pretty things. Patty had such a pleasant way of making
believe which added to the fun. "Now you say what you are going to
buy," she began, "and I'll say what I am. I think I'd like that
pretty shiny, pinky silk hanging up there."
Marian looked at her in amazement. "Oh, have you enough money to buy
that?" she asked in surprise.
Patty laughed. "Not really, I am just pretending I have."
"Oh," Marian's face cleared. "I'd like to pretend, too. Are you
going to buy it for yourself?"
"Dear me, no. I am going to get it for Dolly; she would look dear in
a frock of it. I shall not get much for myself. It's much more fun
to get for other people, for they don't know it and it doesn't make
them feel bad if they don't get the things. When I get things for
myself, sometimes I am a little wee bit disappointed because I am
only make-believing. I think Dick would like one of those neckties,
the red one, I think."
Marian felt suddenly very poverty-stricken; there were no Dollies
or Dicks for her to buy make-believes for. She sighingly mentioned
the fact to Patty.
"Oh, that doesn't make any difference," said Patty cheerfully; "you
can buy for some one else. I think I'll get you that Roman sash."
"Oh, lovely, and I'll get you the blue one. Would you like it?"
"I'd love it."
"I might get Miss Dorothy one of those pretty lacey things in the
case."
"That would be fine; she'd be so pleased." Patty spoke so exactly
as if Marian really intended to buy it, that the latter laughed
outright. Patty was really great fun.
"I'll get something for dear Mrs. Hunt," Marian went on.
"Oh, do. I know about her. Dolly wrote us how kind she was to her.
She must be awfully nice."
Marian overlooked the "awfully." She was not going to criticise
anything about Patty if she could help it. "I think I ought to get
something for poor Miss Almira," she went on. "It is because she is
so ill and couldn't make my coat that I could come to-day. What do
you think would be nice for her, Patty?"
Patty's eyes roved around the big store. "See, those soft-looking
wrappers hanging up way over there? I think one of those would be
just the thing for a sick person. Let's go look at them and pick
one out. We'll tell Dolly we are going. She will be at that counter
for some time."
They left Miss Dorothy while they went upon their interesting errand
of selecting a proper robe for Miss Almira. They decided upon one of
lavender and white, and then they returned to find that Miss Dorothy
had finished making her uninteresting purchases of tapes, thread and
the like, so they went to another floor to look at coats. Marian's
was chosen first and Patty was so pleased with it that she begged to
have one like it, "If Marian doesn't mind," she said.
Marian did not in the least mind, in fact she would be delighted to
know that she and Patty had coats alike, for then they could think
of one another whenever they put them on. So one as near like
Marian's as possible was selected for Patty, and then they went to a
place Patty had been talking of all morning. This was an exhibition
of moving pictures which Patty doted upon and which Miss Dorothy,
herself, confessed she dearly liked. To Marian it was like exploring
a new country, and she was filled with awe and delight, so they
remained till the last minute and had to hurry in order to reach
Griffin's by one o'clock.
Mr. Robbins was there, watch in hand. "Ten minutes late," he cried.
"It was that funny man trying to get his hat that kept us," declared
Patty. "We had to see the end."
"She means the moving pictures," Miss Dorothy explained. "We were so
absorbed we didn't realize how the time was going."
"Oh, well, well, never mind," said Mr. Robbins good-naturedly. "I
have ordered lunch and we'll go eat it."
"Good!" exclaimed Patty. "I always like what dad orders much better
than what I get myself. What did you get, daddy dear?"
"Beefsteak and French fried potatoes, hot rolls, chocolate for you
ladies, coffee for myself. Would you like a salad, Dolly? We can
have some ice-cream and cake, or whatever sweet you like, later."
Miss Dorothy declined the salad for them all, and her father led
the way to a table near the windows where one could look out upon
the street or in upon the room in which they were sitting. It was
all very exciting and unusual to Marian who had never enjoyed
such a high event in all her life as lunching at a restaurant with
grown-ups. Everything was a matter of curiosity and pleasure from
the garnished dish of beefsteak to the chocolate with whipped cream
on top. The shining mirrors, the dextrous waiters, the music played
by an orchestra, seated behind tall palms, made the place appear
like fairy-land to the little village girl. "I'd like to do this
every day," she confided to Patty.
"So should I," agreed Patty.
"No, you wouldn't," put in Mr. Robbins overhearing them. "You'd grow
so tired of it that you would long for plain bread and butter in
your own home. Nothing palls upon one so much as having to dine at
a restaurant every day. I have tried it and I know."
Marian could scarcely believe this possible, but she supposed that
such things appeared very different to men, and she was sure that it
would be many, many years before she would grow tired of it. After
luncheon there came more shopping, and the time arrived all too soon
when they must start for home. At parting Patty slipped a little
package into Marian's hand. "It's for you," she whispered. "It isn't
the Roman sash, but I hope you will like it. Dolly is going to ask
your grandma if she can't bring you to make us a visit some day."
"How I should love to do that," was the fervent answer. Marian felt
very badly that she had nothing to give Patty in return for her
gift. "If you were a heathen," she said gravely, "I might have
something to give you, too. I hope grandma will let me make the
visit. I mean to think of the mustard seed very hard and maybe she
will let me." Then before she could explain this strange speech to
the puzzled Patty, Mr. Robbins said they must hurry to the train,
and she had to leave Patty on the platform waiting till her train
should be called, and wondering what sort of girl Marian could be
to say such very unusual things.
Marian waited till the train was fairly under way before she opened
the package Patty had given her. She found it contained a little
doll. On a piece of paper was scribbled: "You said you didn't have
any little dolls, so I got you this one. It cost only five cents. I
hope you will think of me when you play with it." The doll was one
which Marian had admired in the Five Cent store, and which she had
wished she could buy. "I don't see when she got it," she said to
Miss Dorothy, turning the doll around admiringly.
"Don't you remember when you ran to the door to listen to the street
band that was playing outside?"
"Oh, yes. Was it then?"
"It was then. Patty was so pleased to get it so secretly."
"I shall call it Patty," said Marian. "I shall love her very much;
she is so cunning and little, and I can do all sorts of things with
her that I can't do with my big doll." This tiny Patty was company
all the way home, and in a measure took the place of her lively
namesake. Marian had been obliged to rely upon her own invention and
imagination so much in her little life, which had lacked childish
comrades, that she could amuse herself very well alone or with
slight things.
Miss Dorothy watched her as she murmured to the wee Patty and at
last she said: "Have you had a good day, girlie?"
Marian cuddled up to her in the familiar way she had seen Patty do.
"Oh, it has been a wonderful day, and I am so thankful for Patty,"
she said.
"Big Patty or this little one?" Miss Dorothy touched the doll with
her gloved finger.
"For both. There is so much that is pleasant in the world, isn't
there? Every little while something comes along that you never knew
about before and it makes you glad. First you came, then there was
school and the girls, and to-day came Patty and your father. He
makes me feel very differently about fathers."
"He is a dear dad," said Miss Dorothy lovingly.
"Do you think mine will be like him? I've always thought of him as
being like grandpa, not that grandpa isn't very nice," she added
quickly, "but he doesn't think much about little girls, and never
says funny jokey things to them as your father does. He never seems
to notice the things I do, and your father talks to Patty about the
little, little things I never knew grown up men were interested in."
"That's because he has to be father and mother, too. Our mother died
when Patty was a baby, you know. Yes, daddy is a darling."
"I hope mine will be," said Marian earnestly. "I haven't any mother
either, so perhaps he will feel like being father and mother, too. I
wonder when I shall see him. I didn't use to think much about it,
but since I have written to him, and all that, I think much more
about him."
"That is perfectly natural, and I have no doubt but that when he
finds out that you want to see him he will want to see you, and he
will be crossing the ocean the first thing we know."
"Oh, do you really think so?"
"I shouldn't be at all surprised, only you mustn't count too much on
it. We must be getting those photographs ready pretty soon."
"I would like one of Patty and me together, I mean Patty Robbins,
this is Patty Otway," and she held out her doll.
"We'll see if that can be arranged."
"How can it when we don't live in the same place?"
"I have a little plan that I cannot tell you yet. If it works out
all right I will let you know."
"Oh, Miss Dorothy, you are always making such lovely plans. What did
I ever do without you? Has the plan anything to do with my going to
visit Patty some time?"
"Maybe it has and maybe it hasn't. But, dear me, we are slowing up
for Greenville. We must not be carried on to the next station. Have
we all the things? Where is the umbrella? Oh, you have it. All
right. I hope Heppy will give us hot cakes for supper, don't you?"
So saying she led the way from the train and in a few minutes they
were making their way up the familiar street which, strange to say,
had not altered in the least since morning, although Marian felt
that she had been away so long something must surely have happened
meanwhile.
_CHAPTER IX_
_A Visit to Patty_
After all it was not so very long before Marian and Patty met again,
for a little cough which developed soon after the trip to town in
course of time grew worse, and in course of time the family doctor
announced that Marian had whooping-cough. Mrs. Otway was aghast. She
had a horror of contagious diseases and kept Marian at a distance.
"She must not go to school," she said to Miss Dorothy, "for the
other children might take it."
This was a great blow to Marian, for it meant not only staying away
from school, but from her schoolmates upon whom she had begun to
depend, so it was a very sorrowful face that she wore all that day,
and time hung heavily upon her hands. She wandered up-stairs and
down, wishing for the hour to come when Miss Dorothy would return.
Finally she went out to the garden, for her grandmother had told
her to keep in the open air as much as possible, and it was still
pleasant in the sunshine. "I don't suppose Dippy and Tippy will
get the whooping-cough if I play with them," she remarked to
Heppy, feeling that if these playmates failed her she would be
desolate indeed.
Heppy laughed. "They're not likely to," she said, "though I have
known plenty of cats to have coughs, and I have known of their
having pneumony, but I guess you can risk it."
So Marian and the cats spent the morning in the garden and it was
there Miss Dorothy found them when she came in to dinner. She had an
open letter in her hand which she waved as she walked toward Marian.
"What do you think?" she said. "Patty has the whooping-cough, too,
though not very badly. Your grandmother was right when she said you
probably got it the day we all went shopping."
"Oh, poor Patty! I wish she were here with me."
"And she wishes you were there with her. She is going to have
lessons at home for a little while each day, and I think it would be
a good thing if you could have them together. In fact, it struck me
as such a good plan that I have spoken to your grandmother about it.
Your grandfather has taken up some work this winter which will keep
him very busy, and he could not give you any time. I would be glad
to, but my work grows more and more absorbing and your grandparents
will not listen to my teaching you out of school hours, so as it
seems a pity for you to lose all these weeks, I proposed that you
should go to our house to keep Patty company. You will not have to
study so very hard, for the whooping-cough must have plenty of
outdoor air, and it would not do for you to be cooped many hours
a day. What do you think of it?"
For a moment Marian looked pleased, then her face fell. "I should
miss you so," she said.
"You dear child," returned Miss Dorothy, drawing her close. "So
should I miss you, but I think I can arrange to come home every
week now. It will mean very early rising on Monday morning in
order to get here in time for school, but I can manage it, and
I shall be able to reach home by six on Friday afternoon, so
you see----"
"Oh, I do see, and I think that would be fine."
"My little Patty misses me, too, and so does Father. Aunt Barbara
is an excellent housekeeper and a good nurse when any one is ill,
but she is not much of a companion for daddy nor for Patty. Then,
too, I hate to be out of it all. I long to keep up with the college
news and the home doings, so I shall try going home at the end of
the week, for awhile, anyhow."
"And did grandma say I could go?"
"She actually did. I think she is a little afraid of taking
whooping-cough herself, for she asked me yesterday if I had
ever known of any grown person having it, and I do know of
several cases. I had it myself when I was three years old,
but your grandma cannot remember that she ever had."
"I'm glad she can't remember," returned Marian with a laugh. "Who
is going to hear our lessons, Miss Dorothy?"
"My sister Emily. She is two years younger than I, and is still
studying. She is taking special courses at college, but thinks
she can spare an hour or so a day to you chicks, especially as
she expects to teach after a while, and she will begin to
practise on you."
"I will take little Patty with me," declared Marian, picking up
that person from where she was seated on a large grape leaf under
a dahlia bush.
"So I would. I am sure she will like to visit Patty's dolls."
"Oh, Miss Dorothy, you are so nice," exclaimed Marian giving her a
little squeeze. "Grandma never says such things. She doesn't ever
like to make believe. She says the facts of life are so hard that
there is no time to waste in pretending." Marian's manner as she
said this was so like her grandmother's that Miss Dorothy could but
smile. "I am glad you took some of the photographs for papa before I
got the whoops," Marian went on; "the one at school and the one at
Mrs. Hunt's. Oh, dear Mrs. Hunt will be sorry to have me go."
"She will, I know. She told me this morning that she was going to
ask you to stay with her a while during the time you must be away
from school. Should you like that better than going to Revell?"
"I'd like both," answered Marian truthfully.
"That is often the way in this world," returned Miss Dorothy. "It
is frequently hard to choose between two equally good things. I
will bring you all the home news every week, and can tell you
whether Ruth knew her lessons, whether Marjorie was late, how
Mrs. Hunt's fall chickens are thriving, and what Tippy and
Dippy do in your absence. I shall be quite a newsmonger."
"What is a monger?"
"One who deals or sells. You can look it up in the dictionary
when you go back to the house."
The preparations for her departure went forward quickly, and
by Friday morning, Marian's trunk was packed, and all was in
readiness. Her grandfather actually kissed her good-bye and
gave her five cents. As her grandmother did not happen to be
on hand at that moment to require that Marian should deposit
the nickel in her missionary box, the child pocketed it in
glee, and, at Miss Dorothy's suggestion, bought a picture
postal card to send her father, giving her new address. Miss
Dorothy wrote it for her, addressed and mailed the card, so
Marian was satisfied that her father would know where she was.
"I don't like to have him not know," she told Miss Dorothy.
Mrs. Otway gave her granddaughter many charges to be a good
girl and give no trouble, to take care of her clothes properly
and not to forget to be obedient.
"As if I could forget," thought Marian.
Heppy had no remarks to make, but only grunted when Marian went to
say good-bye to her. However as the child left the kitchen Heppy
snapped out: "You'd better take along what belongs to you as long
as you're bound to go."
"Take what?" asked Marian wonderingly, not knowing that she had left
anything behind.
Heppy jerked her head in the direction of the table on which a
package was lying.
"What is it?" asked Marian curiously.
"Something that belongs to you," said Heppy turning her back and
taking her dish-towels out to hang in the sun.
Marian carried the package with her and later on found it contained
some of Heppy's most toothsome little cakes. "It is just like her,"
Marian told Miss Dorothy. "She acts so cross outside and all the
time she is feeling real kind inside."
Miss Dorothy laughed. "I am beginning to find that out, but I shall
never forget how grim she seemed to me when I first came."
Mr. Robbins' house was very near the college, and Marian thought
it the prettiest place she had ever seen. As they walked up the
elm-bordered street, the college grounds stretched away beyond them.
The gray buildings were draped in vines bright with autumn tints,
and the many trees showed the same brilliant colors. In front of the
Robbins' door was a pretty garden where chrysanthemums were all
a-bloom, and one or two late roses had ventured to put forth. A wide
porch ran along the front and one side the house, and on this Patty
stood watching for them. She was not long in spying them and hurried
down to meet them. "I am so glad you have whooping-cough," she
called out before they came up. Then as they met and embraced she
went on: "Isn't it fine, Marian, that we both have whooping-cough
and winter coats alike? We're most like twins, aren't we? Come right
in. There is a fire in the library, Dolly, and Emily has tea there
for you."
"Good!" cried her sister, "that will go to the spot this chilly
evening. Where are Aunt Barbara and dad?"
"Oh, puttering around somewhere."
"And the boys?"
"They went to practice for the game, but they ought to be home
by now."
They entered the house and went into the library where a tall,
dark-eyed girl was brewing tea. She looked up with a smile and
Marian saw that she was a little like Miss Dorothy. "Here she is.
Here is Marian," cried Patty.
Emily nodded pleasantly. "Come near the fire," she said. "It is
quite wintry out. How good it is to see you, Dolly. I am so glad
you are coming home every week."
"Oh, what are those?" said Miss Dorothy as her sister uncovered
a plate.
"Your favorite tea cakes, but you mustn't eat too many of them
or you will have no appetite for supper. It will be rather late
to-night for the boys cannot get back before seven and they begged
me to wait for them. I knew you would be hungry, though, and so I
had tea, ready for you."
The two little girls, side by side, comfortably sipped some very
weak tea and munched their cakes while the older girls chatted. But
Patty made short work of her repast. "Hurry up," she whispered to
Marian, "I have lots of things to show you and we shall have supper
after a while. Is your cough very bad?"
"Not yet."
"They say mine isn't but I hate the whooping part. I hope it won't
get worse."
"I'm afraid it will, for we've only begun to whoop and they say it
takes a long time to get over it."
"Oh, those old they-says always are telling you something horrid.
Come, let me show you the boys' puppies before it gets too dark to
see them; they're out in the shed."
"Oh, I'd love to see them." Marian despatched the remainder of her
cake and was ready to follow Patty out-of-doors to where five tiny
fox terriers were nosing around their little mother. They were duly
admired, then Patty showed the pigeons and the one rabbit. By this
time it was quite dark, so they returned to the house to see the
family of dolls who lived in a pleasant room up-stairs.
"This is where we are to have lessons," Patty told her guest.
"Isn't it nice? Those two little tables are to be ours, and
Emily will sit in that chair by the window. We arranged it all.
These are my books." She dropped on her knees before a row of
low book shelves.
"Oh, how many," exclaimed Marian. "I have only a few, and most
of those are old-fashioned. Some were my grandparents' and some
my father's."
"Doesn't your father ever get you any new ones?"
"He might if he were here," Marian answered, "but you see I don't
know him."
"Don't know your father?" Patty looked amazed.
"No. He lives in Germany, and hasn't been home for seven or
eight years."
"How queer. Isn't he ever coming?"
"I hope he is. I wrote to him not long ago."
"Why, don't you write to him every little while?"
"No, I haven't been doing it, but I am going to now," she said,
then, as a sudden thought struck her, she exclaimed: "Oh, dear,
I am afraid I can't."
"Why not?" asked Patty.
"Because I used Miss Dorothy's typewriter at home. I don't write
very well with a pen and ink, you know, though I can do better than
I did."
"Oh, I expect you do well enough," said Patty consolingly, "and if
you don't, dad has a typewriter, and maybe he will let you use that,
and if he won't I know Roy will let you write with his. It is only a
little one, but it will do."
"I think you are very kind," said Marian. "Is Roy your brother?"
"My second brother; his name is Royal. Frank is the oldest one
and Bert the youngest of the three. There are six of us, you
know; three girls and three boys. First Dolly and Emily, then
the boys and then me."
"I should think it would be lovely to have so many brothers and
sisters."
"It is, only sometimes the boys tease, and my sisters think I must
always do as they say because they are so much older, and sometimes
I want to do as I please."
"But oughtn't you to mind them?"
"Oh, I suppose so. At least when I don't and they tell daddy, he
always sides with them, so that means they are right, I suppose."
There was some advantage in not having too many persons to obey,
Marian concluded, and when the three boys came storming in, one
making grabs at Patty's hair, another clamoring to have her find his
books, and the third berating the other two, it did seem to Marian
that there were worse things than being the only child in the house.
However, the boys soon subsided, so the two little girls were left
in peace and Patty displayed all the wonders in her possession; the
delightful little doll house which the boys had made for her the
Christmas before, the dolls who inhabited it, five in number, Mr.
and Mrs. Reginald Montgomery, their two children and the black cook.
"The coachman and nurse have to live in another house, there isn't
room for them here," Patty informed Marian. "Which do you like best,
hard dolls or paper ones?"
"Sometimes one and sometimes another," returned Marian. "I don't
know much about paper dolls, though. Mrs. Hunt gave me some out of
an old fashion book, but they got wet, and I haven't any nice ones
now."
"Emily makes lovely ones," Patty told her, "and I'll get her to do
some for us; I know she will."
"How perfectly lovely," exclaimed Marian, beginning to feel that
she had been very lucky when Dame Fortune sent the Robbins family
her way.