HAPPY SATURDAYS
As was not to be wondered at, Patty slept late the next morning. And
when she awakened, she lay, cozily tucked in her coverlets, thinking
over the occurrences of the night before.
Presently Jane came in with a dainty tray of chocolate and rolls, and
then, with some big, fluffy pillows behind her, Patty sat up in bed,
and thoughtfully nibbled away at a crust.
Then Nan came in, in her pretty morning gown, and, drawing up a little
rocker, sat down by Patty's bedside.
"Are you in mood for a gossip, Patty?" she asked, and Patty replied,
"Yes, indeedy! I want to talk over the whole thing. In the first
place, Nan, it was a howling, screaming success, wasn't it?"
"Why, yes, of course; how could it be otherwise? with the nicest
people and the nicest flowers and the nicest girl in New York City!"
"In the whole United States, you mean," said Patty, complacently, as
she took a spoonful of chocolate. "Yes, the party in all its parts was
all right. There wasn't a flaw. But, oh, Nan, I got into a scrap with
the boys."
"What boys? and what _is_ a scrap? Patty, now that you're out, you
mustn't use those slang words you're so fond of."
"Nan," and Patty shook her spoon solemnly at her stepmother, "I've
come to realise that there is slang and slang. Now, the few little
innocent bits I use, don't count at all, because I just say them for
fun and to help make my meaning clear. But that man last night,--that
Lansing man,--why, Nan, his slang is altogether a different matter."
"Well, Patty, he, himself, seems to be an altogether different matter
from the people we know."
"Yes, doesn't he? And yet, Nan, he isn't so bad. Well, anyway, let me
tell you what Mr. Galbraith says."
"That's just it!" declared Nan, after Patty had finished her story.
"That man _is_ a fortune-hunter, and he means to try to marry Mona for
the sake of her father's money!"
"Oh, my!" exclaimed Patty, laughing; "isn't it grand to be grown up! I
see I'm mixed up in a matrimonial tangle already!"
"Nothing of the sort, you foolish child! There won't be any matrimonial
tangle. Mr. Galbraith is quite right; this man must be discouraged, and
Mona must be made to see him in his true light."
"But, Nan, he isn't so awful. You know, sometimes he was quite
fascinating."
"Yes, you think that, because he has big dark eyes and rolled them at
you."
"Goodness! it sounds like a game of bowls. No, I don't mean that;
but--well, I'll tell you what I do mean. He said we weren't fair to
him, to judge him adversely, not knowing anything about him. And I
think so, too, Nan; it doesn't seem fair or right to say a man is a
bounder,--that's what Roger called him,--when we don't know anything
about him, really."
"Patty, you're a goose! Don't you suppose we'll find out about him? Of
course, _we_ can't, but your father and Mr. Galbraith,--yes, and Roger
Farrington, will soon find out his standing."
"Well," said Patty, with a relieved sigh, "then I needn't bother about
_him_ any more. But, Nan, I have troubles of my own. Philip and Roger
are both mad at me!"
"Goodness! Patty, how awful! Do you suppose they'll stay mad all day?"
"Oh, it isn't just a momentary tiff; they are up and down angry! Why,
neither of them danced with me or even spoke to me after supper last
night!"
"Well, it was probably your own fault."
"My own fault, indeed! It was all because of that horrid Lansing man.
Well, if they want to stay mad, they may! _I_ shan't make any
advances."
"Don't worry, my child. Into each life some little squabbles must
fall,--and though you're fairly good-natured, as a rule, you can't
expect it always to be smooth sailing."
Seeing she could get no sympathy from her stepmother, Patty dropped
the subject of her quarrels, and remarked, with a yawn, "Well, I
suppose I may as well get up, and begin on those flower notes. What
shall I say, Nan, something like this? 'Miss Patricia Fairfield thanks
you for your kind donation of expensive blossoms, but as it's such a
bother to write the notes of acknowledgment, she really wishes you
hadn't sent them.'"
"What base ingratitude! Patty, I'm ashamed of you! or I would be, if I
thought you meant a word of it, but I know you don't. What are you
doing this afternoon?"
"Oh, I forgot to tell you. We're going to have a club, just a little
club,--only four of us girls. And, Nan, you know there are so many
clubs that make an awful fuss and yet don't really _do_ anything.
Well, this is going to be a _Doing_ Club. We're going to be real
_doers_."
"It sounds lovely, Patty. What are you going to do?"
"We don't know yet, that's what the meeting's for this afternoon. But
we're going to do good, you know--some kind of good. You know, Nan, I
always said I didn't want to be just a social butterfly and nothing
else. I want to accomplish something that will give some joy or
comfort to somebody."
Patty's blue eyes looked very earnest and sincere as she said this,
and Nan kissed her, saying, "I know you do, Patty, dearest, and I know
you'll succeed in your doing. If I can help you in any way, be sure to
ask me; and now I'll run away and let you dress."
Patty made a leisurely toilette; and then, in a trailing blue silk
negligee, she went into her boudoir and began to write her notes.
It was not a difficult task, and she did not really mind it, though it
was a long list. But Patty had a knack at writing graceful little
notes, and although she jested about it, she was really grateful to
the kind friends who had sent the flowers.
"I don't know _why_ I have so many friends," she said to herself, as
she scanned the rows of names. "To be sure, a great many are really
friends of father's and Nan's, but there's a lot of our crowd, too,
and lots of out of town people. Perhaps it would be a good idea to do
the farthest away first, and so work back to New York."
Patty picked up Mr. Farnsworth's card, and read again the message on
it. "H'm," she said to herself, "it sounds to me a trifle formal and
conventional--considering all things. Now, Little Billee is a Western
man,--but how different he is from that Lansing person! I wonder what
makes the difference. Little Billee isn't formal or conventional a
bit, and yet his manners are as far removed from Horace Lansing's as
white is from black. Oh, well, I know the reason well enough. It's
because Little Billee is a thorough gentleman at heart; and the other
one is,--well, I guess he's what Roger called him. Now, what shall I
say to Mr. William Farnsworth by way of thanks for his truly beautiful
pink roses? I'd like to write a nice, every-day letter, and tell him
all about the party and everything; but, as he just sent his visiting
card, with a mere line on it, I suppose I must reply very formally."
Patty began her formal note, but tore up half a dozen beginnings
before she completed one to her satisfaction. This one read, "Miss
Patricia Fairfield thanks Mr. William Farnsworth sincerely for his
exquisite gift of roses, and for his kind congratulations."
Patty gave a little sigh as she sealed this missive and addressed it
to her friend in Arizona.
With the exception of the roses, Patty had never heard a word from Big
Bill since they were at Spring Beach together. She had told her father
and Nan of what Mr. Farnsworth had said to her down there, and as they
had agreed that Patty was altogether too young even to think of such a
thing as being engaged to anybody, it was wiser to hold no
correspondence with him at all.
Apparently, this in no way disappointed the young man, for he had made
no effort on his part to recall himself to Patty's remembrance, until
the occasion of sending the flowers.
Patty had liked Bill extremely, but as Arizona was far away, and she
had no reason to think she would ever see him again, she gave him few
thoughts. However, the thoughts, when she did allow them to come, were
pleasant ones. Although she had sealed the note she intended to send,
she began another one, and the opening words were "Little Billee."
This note she wrote in the first person, and thanked him simply and
naturally for the flowers. Then, for a signature, she made a carefully
and daintily drawn pen-and-ink sketch of an apple blossom. She was
clever at flower-sketching, and she sat a moment admiring her own
handiwork. Then a flush spread over her pretty face, and she spoke
sternly to herself, as was her habit when she disapproved of her own
actions.
"Patty Fairfield," she said, reprovingly, "you ought to be ashamed to
think of sending a personal, lettery sort of a note like that, to a
man who sent you the formalest kind of a message! He only sent the
flowers, because convention demanded it! He never gave you one single
thought after that last time he saw you,--and that's all there is
about _that_!"
And then, to her great surprise, luncheon was announced, and she found
that her whole morning was gone and only one name on her list crossed
off!
* * * * *
The club that met that afternoon in Mona's pretty sitting-room in the
Plaza Hotel, consisted of only four girls--Patty, Mona, Elise, and
Clementine Morse.
It was thought wiser to start with a few earnest members and then
enlarge the number later if it seemed advisable.
"What a beautiful room!" said Clementine, as she tossed off her furs.
"Don't you like it, Mona, to live in a big hotel like this, and yet
have your own rooms, like a home all to yourself?"
"Yes, I like it in some ways; but I'm alone a great deal. However, I
would be that, if father and I lived in a house or an apartment."
"You ought to have a companion of some sort, Mona," said Patty, who
thought this a good opportunity to urge Mr. Galbraith's wishes.
"No, thank you," and Mona tossed her head, disdainfully; "I know what
companions are! Snoopy old maids who won't let you do anything, or
careless, easy-going old ladies who pay no attention to you. If I
could have a companion of my own age and tastes, I'd like that,--but I
suppose that wouldn't do."
"Hardly," said Elise, laughing; "that would only mean your father
would have two troublesome girls to look after instead of one. And I
daresay, Mona, you are quite as much as he can handle."
"I suppose I am. But he's so good to me I'm afraid he spoils me. But
come on, girls, let's organise our club."
"Don't let's have too much organisation," said Clementine. "Do you
know, I think lots of clubs, especially charity clubs, have so much
organisation that they haven't anything else. One club I joined fell to
pieces before it was fairly started, because the two vice-presidents
squabbled so."
"If there's anything I hate," declared Patty, "it's a squabble.
Whatever else we girls do, let's try not to have any friction. Now, I
know perfectly well that none of us four is _very_ meek or mild."
"I am," declared Elise, assuming an angelic expression, which made
them all laugh, for Elise was really the one most likely to take
offence at trifles, or to flare up impulsively if any one disagreed
with her.
Patty knew this only too well, and was trying to forestall it by a
preliminary treaty of peace.
"Well, then, let's be an organisation that doesn't organise," said
Mona, "but let's be it _now_."
"I think," said Patty, "that our end and aim ought to be to do good to
somebody who doesn't expect it. Now, that isn't quite what I mean,--I
mean to people who wouldn't accept it if it seemed like charity, but
to whom we could give a pleasure that they would really like."
"Patty, my child," said Clementine, "I think your ideas are all right,
but I must say you don't express them very clearly. Let's get down to
something definite. Do you mean to give material things,--like
presents or money?"
"That's just exactly what I _don't_ mean, Clem! Don't you remember
that little club we used to have at school,--the Merry Grigs?"
"Indeed I do! All we had to do was to be merry and gay."
"Well, that's what I mean,--in a way,--if you know what I mean."
"Oh, Patty," cried Mona, "I never knew you to be so hopelessly vague.
Now, for instance, how would it be if we gave a lovely motor ride to
some poor shop girl, or somebody that never gets into a motor?"
"That's it!" cried Clementine, approvingly; "I was thinking of sending
flowers to hospitals, but that's so general. Now, your suggestion,
Mona, is definite, and just the right sort of thing."
"But aren't we going to have a president and treasurer, and things
like that?" asked Elise.
"No," said Patty; "my mind is clearing now, and I begin to see our
club. Instead of a president, we'll all four be presidents, and
instead of a treasurer, we'll all four be treasurers. We'll give money
when it's necessary, or we'll use our motor cars, or buy flowers, or
whatever we like; but we won't have dues and officers and things."
"But the shop girls are always busy; how can we take them motoring?"
asked Elise.
"That was only a suggestion," said Mona; "it needn't be exactly a shop
girl; but anybody we know of, who would enjoy a little unexpected
pleasure."
"The principle is exactly right," said Clementine; "now, let's get it
down to practicability. As Mona says, we needn't necessarily choose a
shop girl,--but suppose we do, many of them are free Saturday
afternoon."
"Only in the summer time," objected Elise.
"Yes, perhaps, in the big shops; but there are lots of them, in
offices,--or even school teachers,--who would be free Saturday
afternoons. Well, anyway, here's what I'm thinking of, and you can all
say what you think of it. Suppose we try, every week, to give a happy
Saturday afternoon to somebody who wouldn't have it otherwise."
"The Happy Saturday Afternoon Club!" cried Patty; "that's a lovely
name! let's do it!"
"But," said Elise, "that would mean giving up our Saturday afternoons.
Do we want to do that? What about matinees?"
"I think we ought to be willing to sacrifice something," said Patty,
thoughtfully; "but I do love Saturday matinees."
"Oh, if there's anything especial, we needn't consider ourselves bound
to give up the afternoon," said Clementine. "For that matter, we could
send a couple of girls for a motor ride without going ourselves."
"But that's more like charity," objected Patty: "I meant to go with
them, and be real nice and pleasant with them, and make a bright spot
in their lives that they would always remember."
"They'd always remember you, Patty, if you were the bright spot,"
declared Mona, who idolised her friend. "But I must confess I do like
to be definite about this thing. Now, how's this for a plan? To-day's
Thursday. Suppose we begin on Saturday and make a start at something.
Suppose we each of us pick out a girl,--or a boy, for that matter,--or
a child or anybody, and think what we can do to make them happy on
Saturday afternoon."
"Now we're getting somewhere," said Elise, approvingly. "I've picked
mine already. She's a girl who comes to our house quite often to sew
for the children. She's a sweet little thing, but she looks as if she
never had a real good time in all her life. Now, can the rest of you
think of anybody like that?"
"Yes, I have one," said Mona. "Your suggestion made me think of her.
She's my manicure girl. She comes here, and sometimes she's so tired
she's ready to drop! She works awfully hard, and never takes a day
off, because she has to support two little sisters. But I'll make her
take a holiday Saturday afternoon, somehow."
"There's a girl I'd like to have," said Clementine, thoughtfully;
"she's at the ribbon counter in Walker's. She always waits on me
there; and she has such a wistful air, I'd like to do her a kindness.
I don't suppose she could get off,--but I could go and ask the head of
the department, and perhaps he'd let her."
"I can't think of anybody," said Patty, "except one person, that I
would simply _love_ to have. And that's a very tired and cross-looking
lady who gives out embroidery patterns in a dreadful place, way down
town. I believe it would sweeten her up for a year to have a little
spree with us."
"All right," said Mona. "Now we have selected our guests, what shall
we do with them? Say, a motor ride and a cup of tea afterward in some
pretty tea room?"
"I think," said Elise, "that we'd better give them luncheon first.
They can't enjoy a motor ride if they're hungry, and they probably
will be."
"Luncheon where?" said Patty, looking puzzled; "at one of our houses?"
"I could have them here, easily enough," said Mona. "Our dining-room
here, would really be better than any of the homes of you girls.
Because you all have people, and I haven't. Father would just as lieve
lunch downstairs, in the main dining-room."
"That's lovely of you, Mona," said Patty. "I was going to suggest some
small, quiet restaurant, but a luncheon here in your pretty dining-room
would indeed be a bright spot for them to remember. But suppose they
won't come?"
"Then we must ask someone instead," said Clementine; "let's promise
each to bring someone with us on Saturday, and if the first one we ask
declines, keep on asking till we get somebody. Of course, Mona, we'll
share the expense of the luncheon equally."
"Nonsense," returned Mona; "I'll be glad to give that."
"No," said Patty, firmly; "we'll each pay a quarter of whatever the
luncheon costs. And let's have it good and substantial, and yet have
some pretty, fancy things too. For, you know, this isn't a charity or
a soup kitchen,--it's to give those girls a bright and beautiful scene
to look back on."
"Oh, it will be lovely!" cried Mona. "I'll have pretty place cards,
and favours, and everything."
"But we mustn't overdo it," said Clementine.
"You know, to the unaccustomed, an elaborate table may prove
embarrassing."
"That will be all right," said Patty, smiling. "Mona can fix her
table, and I'll come over before the luncheon, and if she has too many
or too grand flumadiddles, I'll take some of them off. I don't want
our guests struck dumb by too much grandeur, but I do want things
pretty and nice. Suppose we each bring a favor for our own guest."
"Something useful?" said Elise.
"No; _not_ a suit of flannel underwear or a pair of shoes! But a
pretty necktie or handkerchief, if you like, or even a little gold
pin, or a silver one."
"Or a picture or cast," said Clementine.
"Yes," and Patty nodded approval; "but it ought to be a little thing
that would look like a luncheon souvenir and not like a Christmas
present. I think they ought to be all alike."
"So do I," said Mona, "and I think a little pin in a jeweler's box
will be the prettiest; and then a lovely bunch of flowers at each
plate, and an awfully pretty place-card."
"Oh, it will be beautiful!" cried Patty, jumping up and dancing about
the room; "but I must flit, girls,--I have an engagement at five.
Wait, what about motors? I'm sure we can use our big car."
"And ours," said all the rest together.
"Well, we'll need two," said Clementine, "and two of us girls and two
guests can go in each. We'll see which cars can be used most
conveniently; perhaps our fathers may have something to say on that
subject. But we can arrange all such things by telephone to-morrow.
The main thing is to get our guests."
"Oh, we'll do that," said Patty, "if we have to go out into the
highways and hedges after them."