A CHRISTMAS CARD
Once safely behind her locked door, Patty tore open her blue envelope.
It was only a card,--but not an ordinary printed Christmas card.
In the upper corner was a spray of apple blossoms, exquisitely
painted; and on the card were some verses, written in a hand that was
small and fine, but unmistakably the same as the address on the
outside of the envelope.
With a little sigh of pleasure, Patty cuddled up in her arm-chair to
read the Christmas message.
But it proved to be not very Christmassy, after all; for this is what
she read:
"MY LADY OF DELIGHT
"My Lady of Delight's a dainty, winsome thing;
She's Queen of Summertime, and Princess of the Spring.
Her lovely, smiling lips are roses set to rhyme,
She has a merry, lilting laugh, like Bluebells all a-chime.
The radiance of her smile, the sunshine in her eyes,
Is like the Dawn of breaking Day upon the summer skies.
"With roguish glances bright, all on a Summer Day,
My Lady of Delight she stole my heart away;
And though I humbly beg and plead with her, alack!
My Lady of Delight, she will not give it back.
I seem to see her now, with tangled golden curl,
With dancing eyes, and smiling lips,--My Apple Blossom Girl!
"Oh, Lady of Delight, I pray you, smile on me;
Oh, Lady of Delight, your Knight I fain would be;
Oh, Lady of Delight, you set my heart aglow.
I only know
I love you so,
Dear Lady of Delight!"
Patty read the verses over twice, with shining eyes.
"I wonder if he wrote them himself," she mused. "I don't believe he
did; he must have copied them. He knows an awful lot of pretty poetry
like that. And yet it doesn't sound like a real poet's poetry, either.
And he used to call me Apple Blossom,--such a pretty name. Philip
would never think of such a thing as that. I wonder if I like Little
Billee better than I do Philip. I wonder if he likes me better. But of
course he can't, or he would have written to me in all this time. I
haven't seen him since August, and he never wrote a word, except the
stiffest kind of a line with those flowers he sent me. I thought he'd
forgotten all about me! But I can't think so now,--unless he just came
across this poem, and it recalled me to his mind. Well, I came awfully
near not getting it! I don't see how Daisy _could_ have been so mean;
I don't like that kind of a joke a bit. But of course she thought it
was just a printed card, like hers and Mona's. Well, she'll never know
it _isn't_,--that's one thing sure!"
And then Patty tucked her card of verses under her pillow and went to
sleep.
The next morning, as Patty had prophesied, she slept late. Daisy
peeped into her room two or three times before she finally found
Patty's blue eyes open.
"At last!" she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I thought
you'd never wake up! Patty, what do you think? I've been down in the
library, and I can't find that card! I'm awfully sorry, truly I am;
I'll give you mine if you want it."
"Thank you, Daisy," and Patty smiled at the recollection of Mona's
similar offer. "Bill's cards seem to be a drug in the market! But you
may keep yours, and also set your mind at rest about mine; for I
sneaked downstairs last night in the dark, and fished it out for
myself."
"You did! Oh, Patty, weren't you frightened to prowl around like that,
late at night?"
Patty shook with laughter. "I _was_ frightened," she said, "when I
thought I saw a mouse,--but it wasn't a mouse, after all."
"Oh, I wouldn't be afraid of a mouse! But you might have met a,--a
burglar or something?"
"No," and Patty still grinned. "I didn't meet any _burglar_. But I got
the card, Daisy, so that's all right."
"Was it like mine? Let me see it."
"It wasn't exactly like yours, and I won't let you see it. You kept it
away from me, and now it's my turn to keep it away from you. And by
the way, Daisy, that was a mean thing to do, and I don't want you to
do anything like that to me again!" Patty's sweet face showed an
unusually stern expression, and her blue eyes looked straight into
Daisy's as she spoke.
"I won't, Patty; truly, I won't. I'm awfully sorry, but I did it on a
sudden impulse."
"I know it; and, Daisy, I want you to try not to give way to those
'sudden impulses' when they're mean ones. You have enough good,
generous impulses to keep you busy. Now, you mustn't mind if your Aunt
Patty lectures you a little bit, because as the teachers always say,
'it's for your own good.' And if you'll please take a chair, instead
of sitting all over my feet, I'd like to have my breakfast; for I hear
my pretty little Swedish Hedwig bringing it in."
The smiling maid appeared with Patty's breakfast tray, followed by
Mona and Adele.
"Company already!" exclaimed Patty, sitting up in bed. "Hedwig, quick,
my breakfast cap,--the pink one,--and the nightingale to match."
The maid threw the silken wrap around Patty's shoulders, and tucked
her hair into the lace-frilled cap, which was of a Dutch shape, and
made Patty look like the pictures of Holland's pretty queen.
"You don't seem hungry," said Mona, as Patty toyed with her chocolate.
"Now, I ate a most astonishing breakfast, because I forgot to eat my
supper last night."
"Well, you see," returned Patty, dropping her lashes to hide her
twinkling eyes, "I didn't forget to eat my supper."
The recollection of that supper in the pantry was too much for her,
and she burst into laughter.
"What _is_ the matter with you, Patty?" said Adele. "You're acting
like a harmless lunatic! However, I'm sent to tell you to hop up and
get dressed, for one of your admirers below stairs wants you to go for
a sleighride with him."
"Jim?" asked Patty, looking up with a smile.
"No; Mr. Van Reypen."
"Oh, good gracious! I don't care about going riding with Philip; I can
see _him_ in New York. I hoped it was Hal,--that's why I said Jim."
"Patty," said her hostess, "you're a born coquette, and always will
be! But your wiles are wasted on me. Save them for your suitors. But,
truly, Mr. Van Reypen is going on an errand for me, and he said that
he wanted to show you _some_ little attention while he was here, and
he guessed he'd let you go along with him in the cutter."
"Oh, a cutter ride," and Patty began to scramble out of bed. "That
sounds rather good fun. But I'd rather go with Hal."
"Well, you're candid, at any rate," said Daisy. "But as it happens,
Hal and I are going to practise some music this morning."
"Oh, in that case, I've nothing more to say." And Patty smiled
good-naturedly at Daisy. "And I suppose Mona and Roger are going
somewhere to play by themselves."
"Nothing of the sort," said Mona. "Roger's going back to the city this
morning, and I'm going to write letters."
"But I thought Philip was going back to the city," said Patty, looking
at Adele.
"He's going on the afternoon train. Go on and get dressed, Patty, and
don't waste any more time."
"All right," and Patty made an expeditious toilette and in little more
than half an hour went downstairs equipped for her ride.
She was enveloped from head to foot in a raccoon fur coat, with a
jaunty hat of the same, trimmed only with a bright quill feather.
"Why do we go?" she demanded, presenting herself before Philip, who
was waiting in the hall.
"To get butter and eggs," he returned, gravely. "The Kenerley larder
is entirely empty of those two very necessary ingredients."
"But why do _we_ go for them? Are there no servants to send?"
"Little girls shouldn't ask questions," and without further ceremony
Philip tucked her into the waiting sleigh, sprang in beside her, and
took up the lines.
"My, this is great!" exclaimed Patty, as the pair of fine horses went
dashing down the drive, and the clear, keen winter air blew against
her face.
"Yes; I thought the sleighride would brace you up. And, really, there
seemed to be nobody to send on this errand, so I said we'd go."
"Is it far?"
"No; only about five miles; we'll be back for luncheon. How did you
sleep, after your late supper?"
"All right," and Patty smiled back into Philip's face. "But I wasn't
hungry for my breakfast."
"I should say not! You ate enough last night for two little girls like
you!"
"There aren't two little girls like me!" said Patty, with twinkling
eyes, and Philip exclaimed: "Indeed, there aren't! I say, Patty, my
Princess Patty, _do_ be engaged to me, won't you?"
"No, you ridiculous boy, I won't! And if you say another word on the
subject, I'll be real downright mad at you!"
"Very well, I won't. Now, see here, Princess, do you mean to go to
this masquerade ball with me? For, if not, I'm not coming back here
for New Year's."
"Why, of course, I'm going with you. Who else?"
"I don't know, I'm sure. But there would be plenty glad to take you."
"Pooh! I know that. But I want to go with you. What shall we wear?"
"I was thinking of some foolish thing, like Little Bo-Peep, you know."
"Oh, I'd love to be that! A shepherdess costume, and a crook with
ribbons on. But I want you to wear a satin coat and knee-breeches."
"Well, I'll be Old King Cole."
"No, I don't like that. I'll tell you! You be Little Boy Blue."
"The Gainsborough picture?"
"No, that won't do either. Oh, you be Bobby Shafto! He wears 'silver
buckles on his knee,' don't you know?"
"Yes, I _do_ know! And what's the next line?"
"Never mind," said Patty, turning pink. "I want you to wear a real
Bobby Shafto costume. So you will, won't you?"
"Of course, if my Princess commands. I'll have it made at once. Can I
help about yours?"
"Well, you might go to see Nan, and tell her what I want, and she'll
get it and send it up here. A shepherdess rig is easy enough, and
there's nothing prettier."
"It will be lovely. I say, which way do we turn here?"
"To go to Hatton's Corners? Oh, to the right."
"I think it's the left."
"No, it isn't. I remember distinctly, Jim said, be sure to take the
right road."
"He meant right, not wrong."
"Nonsense! he didn't. He meant right, not left. Turn right, Philip."
They turned right, into a wide, straight road. The sleighing was fine,
though not yet sufficiently packed. But, with the light cutter, and
two good horses, they spun along in great shape.
"There's something about sleighing that's different from anything
else," remarked Patty, with the air of one expounding a great truth.
"It's the exhilaration. Spinning along like this, with the snow
crunching under us, beats motoring, I think."
"Yes; for an occasional ride. But for all the year round, motoring is
best."
"That's so. Sleighing isn't much fun in July or August."
"Huh! don't be silly. But, I say, Philip, where are we? Jim said we'd
pass Little Falls, and then we must follow the trolley line all the
way to the butter and egg house. I don't see any trolley."
"Neither do I, yet. But we'll soon strike it. Ah, here we are!"
"No; this is a railroad,--a steam railroad, I mean. Philip, we're off
the road."
"I think we are. I'm sorry I insisted on turning to the right at that
corner."
"You _didn't_ insist. _I_ did! But I thought it was right."
"It _is_ right, dear. Anything is right, where you are."
"You'd better stop talking foolishness, and find the right road."
"Oh, if you call that _foolishness_!"
"Well, I do! I'd rather you'd get to the egg house and back before it
begins to storm. And by the looks of the sky, I'm sure it _is_ going
to storm."
"Oh, no! nothing like that. But I say! Princess! it's after one
o'clock! Now, who would have thought it? And they expect us back to
luncheon!"
"After one! Oh, Philip, it _can't_ be!"
"Yes, it is! Well, Patty Pink, the best thing to do, _I_ think, is to
go to that house I see in the dim distance, and ask our way. The last
two or three signposts have shown names _I_ never heard of."
"I either," said Patty, in a meek voice. "I noticed them, but I didn't
say anything, because it's my fault we went astray."
"Well, never mind. We're in for a lark, that's all. 'Afar in the
desert I love to ride'--what comes next, Patty?"
"'With the silent Bushboy alone by my side----'"
"Yes, that's it; but thank goodness, you're not silent----"
"Nor a Bushboy, either. But I don't like this, Philip. We're----"
"We're far frae our hame, and all that. But don't you worry, my
Princess. You're with me, and so you're not lost. You know, it's
better to be loved than lost."
"Now, Philip, stop talking about love! It's bad enough to be
lost,--and we _are_ lost,--without having somebody harping about love
all the time."
"Well, this isn't much of a time or place, is it? So, suppose we invade
this peaceful dwelling, and inquire our latitude and longitude."
They drove up a winding road to a large, old-fashioned house, and
Philip jumped out at the front door.
His summons on the big, brass knocker was answered by a prim little
lady, with grey hair and bright, dark eyes.
"Pardon me, madame," said Philip, in his best manner. "We have lost
our way. Will you tell me how to reach Hatton's Corners?"
"Hatton's Corners! Why, that's a good ten miles from here. Where'd you
come from?"
"From Fern Falls."
"Then you took the wrong road at the Big Tree Fork. You'd oughter 'a'
gone to the left."
"H'm; you may be right. But must we go back there, or is there a
shorter cut?"
"No; there ain't no shorter cut. But your young lady looks cold. Won't
you two come in and take a bite o' dinner, and get warm before you go
on?"
"Why, this is true hospitality, madame. What do you say, Patty?"
Patty looked uncertain. "I don't know what to say," she replied,
hesitatingly. "I _am_ cold; but I'm afraid it would delay us so long
that Adele will worry about us. I think we'd better jog along."
But then another old lady appeared. She was rounder, rosier, plumper,
and jollier than the first, and she cried out, heartily: "Jog along?
Well, I reckon not! I jest waited to slip into my shoes,--my feet's
awful tender,--and then I come right out here to see what's goin' on.
Now, you two young folks come right in, and set a spell. 'Tain't often
we get a chance to have comp'ny,--and on chicken pie day, too!"
"Whew, chicken pie!" exclaimed Philip. "How about it, Patty?"
"Have you a telephone?" asked Patty, with a sudden inspiration.
"Yes, miss. Now you jest come along. 'Kiah, the hired man, he'll look
after your horses, and I'm free to confess they need a rest and a
feed, even if you don't."
"That's so," said Philip. "We must have come twelve or fifteen miles."
"It's all o' that from Fern Falls. My, I'm right down glad to look
after you two. You do seem to need it."
The speaker's twinkling dark eyes looked at her two visitors with such
comprehension that Patty blushed and Philip smiled.
"We're from Mr. Kenerley's house," he explained,--"guests there, you
know. And we started for Hatton's Corners to get some butter and
eggs--and somehow, we took the wrong turn----"
"It was all my fault," confessed Patty. "I insisted on coming this
way, though Mr. Van Reypen thought the other was right."
"Well, well, never mind! It'll jest be a nice, smart trip back after
dinner. I'm Mrs. Fay, and this is my sister, Miss Wilhelmina Winthrop.
She's got a longer name than I have, but I've got a longer head."
They were ushered into the old-fashioned sitting-room, with its
Brussels carpet showing huge baskets of flowers; its heterogeneous
furniture, some chairs haircloth and black walnut, and others
cane-seated, with rep cushions tied on; marble tables, of course; and
an old sofa, with well-worn pillows and rugs.
But the place had a hospitable air, and the two hostesses were fairly
beaming with delight at this opportunity for entertainment. Miss
Winthrop carried Patty off to her own bedroom.
"You're jest all tuckered out, I can see," she said, hovering around
her like a clucking hen; "but a wash-up and a good dish o' chicken pie
will put you all to rights again."
"But I must telephone before we eat dinner," said Patty.
"So you shall,--so you shall. Now, don't you worry the leastest mite
about anything."
"How kind you are!" exclaimed Patty, smiling on the happy little old
lady. "I suppose you belong to the real old New England Winthrops?"
"Yes, and we're mighty proud of our name. I was so much so that I
never would change it,"--and she chuckled. "Sister, though, she
thought Fay was prettier."
"Fay _is_ pretty," said Patty, cordially, "and now, if I may, I'll
telephone, for I know our people will be wondering where we are."
"All right, Miss Fairfield; come right along." But in returning to the
sitting-room, Patty found Philip was already at the telephone.
"Yep," he was saying, "lost our way; took wrong turning at Big Tree
Fork. Brought up, somehow, at Mrs. Fay's. Accepted invitation to
dinner,--chicken pie!--Start back immediately after the E in Pie! See?
Expect us when we get there. Will accumulate a butter and a egg or
two, on our way home. Love to all. Philip." He concluded his harangue,
and turned to Patty.
"All serene on the Potomac, Patty Pink! I told them all it was
necessary for them to know; and if they desire further information,
they can call us up. They know where we are. Me for the chicken pie!"