ready and we must go down. I will show you the rest of my things
to-morrow. Coming, Emily," she answered as she ran down-stairs.
But it was because Marian's trunk had come that Emily wanted the
little girls, and when this was unpacked and Marian felt that she
was fairly established supper was announced. It was a plain but well
cooked and hearty meal such as suited the appetites of six healthy
young persons, three of them growing boys. As she saw the bread and
butter disappear, Marian wondered how the cook managed to keep them
supplied.
True to her promise Patty asked Emily about the paper dolls that
very evening and she smilingly consented to make them two apiece.
"Just a father and a mother and a little child," Patty begged her
sister.
"Very well," said Emily. "I think I can throw in the child."
"Marian, do you want the child to be a baby?" asked Patty.
"Oh, a tiny baby," said Marian. "If I may have that, I should be
delighted."
"You shall have it," promised Emily and straightway fell to work to
fill the contract for paper dolls, Marian watching her with a happy
face. To see any one actually drawing anything as lovely as these
promised to be was a new pleasure, and her ohs and ahs, softly
breathed as each was finished, showed her appreciation.
The two little girls took themselves to a corner of the library
where they could play undisturbed, making houses of the lower book
shelves. "Oh, may we do that?" asked Marian in surprise as she saw
Patty stacking the books on the floor.
"Oh, yes," was the answer, "if we put the books back again when we
have finished. You take that corner and I'll take this, then we'll
have plenty of room."
Such liberties were never allowed Marian at home, and she grew so
merry over Patty's funny make-believes that more than once Miss
Dorothy and her sister exchanged pleased glances, and once Miss
Dorothy murmured: "I'd like her father to see her now. She has
been starved for just that sort of cheerful companionship."
"She seems a very nice child," said Emily.
"She is," returned Miss Dorothy. "She has never had a chance to be
spoiled."
Bedtime came all too soon, and the books were reluctantly put back
on their shelves, the dolls safely stowed away in a large envelope,
and Miss Dorothy piloted the way to Patty's pretty little room which
she was to share with Marian.
As Miss Dorothy stooped to give the two a good-night kiss, Marian
whispered: "I've had such a lovely time. I'd like to live here
always. I hope my whooping-cough won't get well for a long time."
_CHAPTER X_
_Running Away_
The days for the most part went happily for the two little girls.
They spent much time out-of-doors, lessons taking up only two hours
a day. Beside the many outdoor plays which all children love there
were others which Patty invented, and these Marian liked best. The
two had some disagreements and a few quarrels, for Patty, being the
youngest child in her family, was a little spoiled, and liked her
own way. She was an independent, venturesome little body, and led
Marian into ways she had never tried before. She loved excitement
and was always planning something new and unusual.
One morning after the two had raced around the lawn till they were
tired, had climbed trees, jumped from the top step many times,
gathered chestnuts from the burrs newly opened by the frost, Patty
was at her wits' end to know what to do next. "Let's run away," she
said suddenly.
"Oh, what for?" said Marian to whom such adventures never suggested
themselves.
"Oh, just because; just to do something we haven't done," was the
reply.
"But where shall we run?"
"Oh, anywhere. Down there." Patty nodded toward the road which led
from the college grounds.
Marian looked dubious. "But where would we stay at night, and where
would we get anything to eat?"
"Oh, along the way somewhere."
"We haven't any money to buy food."
"No, but some one would give it to us if we asked."
"Why, then we would be beggars."
Patty nodded. "I've always thought I would like to try what it would
be like not to mind your clothes, nor your face and hands. It would
be rather fine, don't you think, not to have grown-ups say to you:
Be careful of your frock. Don't get your shoes wet. No lady ever has
such a face and hands."
"Ye-es," doubtfully from Marian. "Suppose we should get lost and
never find our way back."
"We couldn't if we kept a straight road. We might meet a princess in
disguise, riding in her carriage and she might take us in with her.
I should like to see a real princess."
"My father has seen one."
"I don't believe it."
"He has. Cross my heart. He wrote to grandma about her and said
she looked like any one else."
"Then she couldn't have been a real princess," said Patty
triumphantly.
"My father doesn't tell stories, I thank you," said Marian
indignantly.
"You don't know whether he does or not; you don't know him,"
retorted Patty.
Marian gave her one look, arose from where she was sitting, and
stalked into the house. Patty was at her heels in a moment. "Oh,
please don't get mad," she begged.
Marian made no reply for a moment, then she said in a low voice,
"I'm not exactly mad, but my feelings hurt me."
Patty was too warm-hearted to let this pass. She flung her arms
around her friend's neck. "I was horrid to say that," she said,
"when I have a father close by and you haven't any mother."
"Neither have you," returned Marian mollified.
"I know, but I have brothers and sisters, and live with my father. I
think, after all, Marian, we won't run away, but we might go down
that road a little way and see what it looks like."
"Haven't you ever been there?"
"No, we always go in the other direction." She did not say why, nor
did she tell Marian that she had been warned of a rowdy neighborhood
in the vicinity of some factories further on. "You see," she
continued, "it would be fun to pretend we were running away. We
could stay till it gets dark and we began to be afraid."
"Not till it is really dark," Marian improved on the suggestion,
"but just till it begins to be."
"Well, yes, that would do. Come on, let us start."
"Don't you think we ought to take some lunch?"
"Well, maybe, though I would rather trust to luck; it would be much
more exciting. I think I will take five cents that I have, and then
if we don't see any chance of getting something to eat we can buy
enough to keep us from getting very, very hungry." So saying, she
ran toward the house.
"Bring Patty Wee," called Marian after her.
"All right," answered Patty the Big from the door-step. She came out
again directly with the money clasped in her hand, and bearing Patty
Wee.
"I suppose we mustn't go near any children," said Marian as they
started off, "for we might give them the whooping-cough."
"I'm sure I don't want to go near any," replied Patty independently.
"See, the road we are going to take leads right past the chapel and
down that hill."
"What are those chimneys sticking up there at the foot of the hill,
where all that smoke is coming out?"
"They are the chimneys of the factories."
"What kind of factories?"
"Oh, some kind. I don't know. We can ask when we get home if you
would like to know." She hurried Marian past the big factory
buildings from which issued the clattering noise of machinery, and
from whose chimneys black smoke was pouring. At the foot of the hill
there was a little bridge spanning a rapid stream. Further up, the
stream was bordered by willows, and a meadow beyond seemed an
inviting playground. "Let's go up there," said Marian; "it looks
so pleasant."
"We might fish if we had a hook and line," said Patty, bent on some
new diversion.
"Oh, do you suppose there are any fish so near the factory?"
"There might be," returned Patty, "but as we haven't anything to
catch them with they are perfectly safe."
Marian laughed, then added, "I think I am glad they are, for I
don't believe it would make me very happy to see the poor things
struggling and gasping."
"Then it is just as well we can't catch them, for I don't want to
make you unhappy," said Patty. "See that big tree over there with
that flat rock near it? I think it looks as if it would be a nice
place to play."
"So it does. I wonder if we can reach it easily."
"I'll go and see. If it is all right I will call you. Just wait here
for me."
Marian sat down on the stump of a tree near the bridge to wait. It
was pleasant to hear the murmur of the water, and to watch the
little eddies and ripples. It was a true Indian summer day, warm and
hazy. The squirrels were whisking their tails in the trees near by,
and the crows were cawing in a corn field not far off. Marian was
enjoying it all very much when Patty called, "Come, Marian, come.
I've found something. Come around by the fence and creep under."
Marian obeyed and was soon by Patty's side. "What have you found?"
"Just see here," said Patty excitedly. "Some one has been playing
here before us."
Marian stooped down to look where, in a little cave made by the
large stone, was a small doll, a table made of a block of wood, some
bits of blue china for dishes, a row of acorns for cups, and a bed
of green moss. Outside stood a small cart made of a box with spools
for wheels.
"Isn't it cunning?" said Patty, appealed to by the unusual. "Now we
can play nicely."
"Do you think we ought to touch them?"
"Why not? They are out here where anybody could get them. I
shouldn't wonder if some child had been playing here and forgot all
about it. There's no telling how long they have been here." This
quieted Marian's scruples and they took possession. Patty Wee, as
they now called Marian's little doll, just fitted in the cart, so
she was brought in state to visit the cave doll, whom Patty called
Miggy Wig, neither knew just why.
It was much more interesting to serve grass and acorn kernels from
broken bits of china than it was to have a real tea-party in an
orderly nursery with real cups and saucers, and the strange doll
added to the zest of the play because she was an unknown. The
children speculated upon who might be her possible owner, and
wondered if she were mourned and missed, or only forgotten. A fat
toad, tempted out by the warm sunshine, hopped from under the stone
and sat blinking at the children in such a funny way that they
laughed so loud as to send him away.
Everything was going on merrily when presently the shrill whistle of
the factory announced that it was noon, and pretty soon crowds of
men, women, boys and girls trooped down the road toward a group of
small houses further along. It was a noisy, jostling crowd and the
two children were glad they were not nearer. They cowered down
behind the big rock to wait till the factory hands had passed by.
In a few minutes Patty peeped forth. "They've gone," she whispered.
"I don't believe they would have noticed us anyhow. Let's play that
the fat toad is an enchanted prince, and that Miggy Wig is going to
liberate him from his enchantment."
"All right," agreed Marian. "What shall Patty Wee be?"
"If Miggy Wig is the fairy, Patty Wee can be the princess who will
wed the prince. Now Miggy Wig and I are going to gather three kinds
of herbs to make the charm," said Patty.
Marian was delighted. She had but lately entered the wonderful
region of fairy-land, but under Patty's guidance was becoming very
familiar with its charms and enchantments.
Patty and Miggy Wig hied forth to gather the three kinds of herbs
while Marian kept watch with Patty Wee. It was now so quiet that
the toad ventured out again. Patty had dubbed him Prince Puff, a
very fitting name the girls agreed. Marian was watching him as he
did his funny act of swallowing, shutting his eyes and looking as
if he meant to eat his own head, Patty said, when suddenly voices
sounded behind her, angry voices.
"Well ain't that cheek?" cried some one.
Marian looked up and saw two shabby looking girls about her own age.
She quickly rose to her feet, letting Patty Wee slip to the ground.
The other Patty was some distance away.
"What business have you got here?" said the taller of the strange
girls, stepping up.
"Why, we're just playing," replied Marian.
"Just playing," mimicked the girl. "Do you hear that, Pearl? Just
playing with our things. Ain't that cheek for you? Let's show her
what we think of folks that steal our belongings."
"I haven't taken a thing," said Marian indignantly. "I am not a
thief."
"Where's my doll, then? Call me a liar, do you?" said the girl
fiercely, and stepping still nearer she gave Marian a sounding
slap on the cheek.
By this time Patty had seen the newcomers and had hurried up. "Don't
you dare touch my friend," she cried. "We're not doing any harm to
you and your things."
"Well, you've meddled with them, and you were going to take my doll;
you've got it now. Give it to me," and the girl snatched Miggy Wee
from Patty's hand. "They meddled, didn't they, Pearl?"
"Yes, they did," chimed in the younger girl. "They meddled, so
they did."
"Well, they've got to hustle off pretty quick or I'll set my
father's big dog on them. Get out, you thieves," she said to
Patty and Marian.
"We are not thieves," replied Patty indignantly.
"What were you doing with my doll, then?"
"I didn't know it was yours. I didn't know it belonged to any one."
"Oh, you didn't," in sarcastic tones. "Perhaps you thought it grew
here like that there weed; you look green enough to think that."
Patty clenched her hands and bit her lip to keep from making
an answer which she knew would only aggravate matters. She drew
herself up and gave the girl a withering look, then she turned
to Marian. "Come, let us go," she said.
"Oh, you think you're very grand, don't you," said the girl
teasingly. "Well, you're not, and I can tell you we're not
going to let you off so easy. You've got to pay for the use
of our playhouse. I'll take this in pay," and she grabbed
Patty Wee from Marian.
"Oh, no, no," cried Marian in distress, "you can't have my doll."
"I can't, can't I? I'll show you whether I can." And the girl faced
Marian so threateningly that she shrank away.
Then Patty thought of a device. "You'd better not come too near us,"
she cried, "for we've got the whooping-cough," and indeed just then
by reason of the excitement she did have a paroxysm of coughing
which plainly showed that she spoke truly.
The girl backed away, and as soon as Patty had recovered, she
grasped Marian's hand and hurried her away. "Never mind Patty
Wee," she said; "I'll get you another just like her. Let's get
away as fast as we can."
Marian realized that this was the wiser plan, and they hurried
off, their two enemies calling after them mockingly.
Their breathless flight set them both coughing, and when they
recovered breath they both walked soberly on without saying a
word, their object being to get as far away as possible from
the scene of trouble. Up hill and down again they trudged, and
presently saw ahead of them a house and garden at the junction
of two roads.
"I never saw that place before," said Patty, looking at it with a
puzzled air. "I'm sure I don't know where we are."
"Oh, Patty," exclaimed Marian in dismay, "are we lost?"
"Well no, not exactly. We'll stop at that house and ask the way."
As they approached they saw that the front of the house was a small
country store, so they went around to the door and opened it. A bell
jangled sharply as they entered, and from somewhere in the rear a
woman came forward. "What's wanting?" she asked.
"Will you tell us how far we are from Revell?" said Patty. "We want
to go there, to the college."
The woman looked at her with some curiosity.
"It's about three miles," she said. "You go up this road and turn to
your left about a mile on, just before you come to the factories.
You pass by them and keep straight on."
"Thank you," said Patty. Then seeing piles of rosy apples, boxes of
crackers, and such eatables, she realized that she was very hungry.
"Will you tell me what time it is?" she said.
The woman looked up at a big clock over the door. "It is after two,"
she said, "about quarter past."
"Oh, dear," Patty looked at Marian, "we can't get back to dinner."
Suddenly all the joys of a gypsy life faded away. She looked at the
apples, felt in her coat pocket for her five cents, and fortunately
found it. "How much are those apples?" she asked.
"Ten cents a quarter peck," the woman told her.
"Oh, I meant how much apiece."
"I guess you can have 'em for a cent apiece. There'll be about ten
in a quarter, I expect."
"Then I'll take two." The woman picked out two fine red ones and
handed them to her. "I have three cents left," said Patty. "What
shall I get, Marian?" Her eyes roved along the shelves.
"That soft mixture's nice," said the woman, "and it's right fresh."
"Can I get three cents' worth?"
"Oh, yes."
"Then I'll take it."
The woman took down a box of mixed cakes and weighed out the
necessary amount. Patty gave the five cents and the two little
girls left the store.
"I never was so hungry," said Patty, her teeth immediately seeking
the apple.
"Nor I," said Marian, following her example. And they trudged along
munching the apples till they reached the top of the hill. They
could see the factory chimneys in the distance and knew they could
find their way, though both dreaded to pass the neighborhood of the
rude girls who must live near the factory. They almost held their
breath as they approached the spot, but they got by safely, and
toiled on toward home, two thoroughly weary, disgusted little
girls.
"It wasn't much fun," said Marian plaintively, as they neared the
house.
"I shall never, never want to go that way again," said Patty
contritely. "We haven't had any real dinner; I've spent my five
cents, and you've lost Patty Wee."
At the thought of this last disaster Marian's eyes filled. "Don't
feel so," said Patty in distress. "I'll buy you another the very
first time I go to the city. I know Dolly will give me five cents."
"But it won't be Patty Wee," said Marian mournfully.
Patty was honest enough to go straight to her sister Emily with
the whole story of the morning's trouble. "You knew you were
disobedient, didn't you, Patty?" said Emily gently. "Now you see
why daddy always forbade your going down that way. He knows those
factory people are a rough set."
Patty hung her head. "I know I was as bad as could be, Emily, but
I'll never do it again."
"The worst part is that you led Marian into it, for she didn't know,
as you did, that you mustn't go that way. You say those girls struck
her, and took her doll away from her. I think she had the worst of
it, and yet it was all your fault, Patty."
"Oh, dear, oh, dear, I am wickeder than I thought," sobbed Patty.
"What can I do, Emily, to make up for it? I will do anything you
think I ought. I spent my five cents and I haven't any more to get
another Patty Wee."
"If you will go without dessert for a week I will give you five
cents to buy another doll. I think you have had punishment enough
otherwise, but you can't make up to Marian for having those girls
treat her so."
Patty's tears flowed afresh, but she agreed to give up what meant a
great deal to her.
However, the five cents did not go toward buying another Patty Wee,
for when Patty told her brothers of the morning's adventure, they
looked at each other knowingly, and a little later on plotted
together in the shed. So a few days after they triumphantly appeared
with the lost Patty Wee which they restored to the delighted Marian.
They would never tell how they recovered the doll, but Pearl and
Evelina have memories of three big determined boys bearing down
upon them when they were playing under the big tree, boys who
demanded a doll taken by force, and having great respect for
manly strength the girls gave up Patty Wee without a word.
_CHAPTER XI_
_A Letter's Reply_
The lovely Indian summer was over, and Thanksgiving Day passed
happily. It was a great time for Marian, for Miss Dorothy was home
for several days and together they planned the book of photographs
to be sent to Marian's father. "I think it would better go in ample
time," said Miss Dorothy, "for at Christmas time there will be such
budgets going that we must be sure to get ours in before the rush
begins. I should give it two or three weeks anyhow, and even if it
does get there too soon, that will be better than too late."
"Don't you think it is time I was getting an answer to my letter?"
asked Marian.
"It is high time, but perhaps your father has been away, and has not
had his mail forwarded."
And indeed that was exactly the way of it as was proved the very
next day when the morning's mail brought Marian her long-looked-for
letter. She trembled with excitement when Mr. Robbins placed it in
her hands, and her eyes eagerly sought Miss Dorothy. "Won't you go
with me somewhere and read it to me?" she whispered.
Miss Dorothy hesitated. "Perhaps your father has written it for your
eyes alone."
"But suppose I can't read it."
"Well, then we'll go to my room and you can open it there. If you
can't read it I'll help you out. Will that do?"
"Oh, yes, thank you, dearest Miss Dorothy." Marian had learned from
Patty to use many endearing terms.
They went up-stairs to the pleasant front room with its pretty paper
and hangings of roses on a creamy ground, and by the window they sat
down while Marian carefully opened the envelope. As she unfolded the
sheet of paper it held, something fell out in her lap. "It is a
photograph of papa," she cried as she picked it up. "I never had one
of my very own, and see, Miss Dorothy, the letter is typewritten so
I can read it quite easily, but please sit by me while I see what he
says."
It was a long, loving letter in which the writer spoke of the
pleasure it had been to him to hear from his little daughter, of
how her accounts of her daily life had taken him back to his own
childhood, and of how often he thought of her and longed to see her.
"If I thought it best, my dear little daughter," he said, "I should
not let the ocean roll between us, though some day I hope you can
come to me if I may not go to you." There were many more things,
entertaining descriptions of the places to which he had lately been,
accounts of his doings and his friends, the whole ending with a
request that Marian would write as often as she could. As she
finished the closing lines Marian held out the letter to Miss
Dorothy. "Do read it," she said. "I know he would not care. There
isn't anything in it that you mustn't see. I'd like you to read it
out loud to me, Miss Dorothy; I can't quite get the sense of it
myself." So Miss Dorothy did as she was requested and agreed with
Marian that it was a very nice letter, that her father did love
her, and that the reason he did not come home was because he felt
he would not be welcome.
After this it was an all-important matter to get the photographs
ready to send and to write a letter in answer to the one Marian had
just received. Patty was very much interested in the photographs,
for besides those taken in Greenville of Marian and the cats in
the garden, of Marian at school, in the sitting-room with her
grandparents, in her own room and in Mrs. Hunt's kitchen, there
were a number taken in Revell where various members of the Robbins
family appeared and where Patty herself was always a conspicuous
figure. But the very last one was of Marian alone with arms
outstretched and face upheld for a kiss. Under it was written,
"A hug and kiss for you, dear papa, when you come back to your
little Marian." This was the child's own idea, and Miss Dorothy
carried it out as well as she could.
"Just think," Marian said to Patty, "how much better I know my papa,
and I shall keep on knowing him better and better."
"Shall you show your grans the photographs, and the one of him?"
asked Patty.
"Yes," returned Marian thoughtfully, "Miss Dorothy thinks I ought
to, and that I shall have to tell about my writing to him. I think
grandma will be glad, and maybe grandpa will be, too, though he
won't say so."
Miss Dorothy overhearing this wise remark, smiled. She quite
believed that both Mr. and Mrs. Otway would be glad.