AN AQUATIC PARTY
Of course all were agreed that Patty must have a farewell party of some
sort; and as Nan dearly loved elaborate affairs, she had decided that
it should be an Aquatic Party.
Patty frankly confessed her ignorance as to what an Aquatic Party might
be, whereupon Nan informed her that she had only to wait until the
occasion itself to find out.
So busy was Patty herself that she took no hand in the preparations for
the party, and indeed Nan required no help. That capable and energetic
young matron secured the services of some professional decorators and
able-bodied workmen, but the direction and superintendence was entirely
in her own hands.
Patty was consulted only in regard to her own costume for the occasion.
"You see," said Nan, coming into Patty's room one morning, "I don't
know whether you would rather say good-bye to your friends in the guise
of a kelpie or a pixy or a jelly-fish."
"Cut out the jelly-fish," said Patty, laughing, "for they're horrid,
floppy old things, I'm sure. As to the others, what's the difference
between a kelpie and a pixy?"
"Oh, a great deal of difference," declared Nan, wagging her head
wisely; "a kelpie is an imaginary water sprite, you know, and a pixy is
a--a--why, a sort of make-believe fairy who lives in the water."
"Well, I'm glad that you see a difference in your two definitions. For
my part I don't see anything to hinder my being a kelpie and a pixy
both, even if I'm not twins."
"Well, they're not so very different, you know. One is a kelpie, and
one is a pixy; that's about all the difference."
Patty laughed. "Well, if it will help you out any to have me make a
choice," she said, "I'll choose to be a kelpie. What's the latest thing
in kelpie costumes?"
"Oh, it will be lovely, Patty! I'll have it made of pale green silk,
with a frosted, silvery, shimmering effect, you know, and draped with
trailing green seaweed and water grasses."
"Lovely!" agreed Patty. "And what would the pixy costume have been, if
I had chosen that?"
"Just the same," confessed Nan, laughing; "but it's easier to have
something definite to work at. You can wear my corals, Patty, and, with
your hair down, you'll be a perfect kelpie."
Patty smiled at her young stepmother's enthusiasm, and Nan ran away to
begin preparations for the kelpie costume.
The night of the party the whole Fairfield house was so transformed
that it must scarcely have recognised itself.
The large front drawing-room represented the arctic regions in the
vicinity of the North Pole. Frames had been erected which, when covered
with sheets, simulated peaks of snowy mountains and snow-covered
icebergs. Here and there signs, apparently left by explorers, told the
latitude and longitude, and a flag marked the explorations Farthest
North. Over these snow peaks scrambled white polar bears in most
realistic fashion, and in one corner an Esquimau hut was built.
The ceiling represented a clear blue sky, and the floor the blue water
of the open polar sea.
By a clever arrangement of electric lights through colored shades a
fair representation of the Aurora Borealis was made to appear at
intervals.
The library, which was back of the drawing-room, had been transformed
into an aquarium. All round the walls, waves of blue-green gauze
simulated water, in which papier-mache fish were gliding and swimming.
The illusion was heightened by other fishes, which, being suspended
from the ceiling by invisible threads, seemed to be swimming through
the air.
Altogether the effect, if not entirely realistic, was picturesque and
amusing, and coral reefs and rocky cliffs covered with seaweed gave
aquatic impressions, even if not entirely logical.
But Nan's pride was what she chose to call the Upper Deck. This was a
room on the second floor, a large front room, which had been made to
represent the upper deck of a handsome yacht. Sail-cloth draped and
held up by poles formed the roof and sides, and a realistic railing
surrounded it. A dozen or more steamer chairs stood in line, strewn
with rugs, pillows and paper-backed novels. Coils of rope, lanterns,
life-preservers, and other paraphernalia added to the realism of the
scene, and at one side a carefully constructed window opened into the
steward's cabin. The steward himself, white-duck-suited and
white-capped, was prepared to serve light refreshments exactly after
the fashion of a correct yachting party.
When the guests began to arrive and were dressed in various costumes,
each representing some type or phase of water pleasures, the scene took
on a gay and festive air.
Patty's kelpie costume was a great success, and the girl never looked
prettier than as she stood receiving her guests in the pretty green
silk gown, trailing with seaweed and shimmering with silver dust. Her
curly golden hair was wreathed with soft green water-grasses, and her
rosy cheeks and dancing eyes made her look like a mischievous water
sprite.
Nan's own costume was that of a fish-wife, and though very different
from Patty's, it had all the picturesqueness of the quaint costume of
the Breton fisher-folk. A basket slung over her shoulder held
realistic-looking fishes, and Nan looked quite as if she might have
stepped out of the frame of a picture in the French Academy.
Mr. Fairfield, not without some difficulty, had been induced to
represent Neptune. False flowing white hair and beard, a shining crown
and trident, and a voluminous sea-green robe made him a gorgeous sight.
The three stood near the North Pole to receive their guests, and
formality was almost lost sight of in the hilarity caused by the
procession of picturesque costumes.
There were pirates of fierce and bloodthirsty mien; there were jolly
Jack Tars and natty ship officers; there were water babies, mermaids,
fishermen, and many dainty yachting costumes. Then there were queer and
grotesque figures, such as a frog, a lobster, and a huge crab.
Altogether the motley procession presented a most interesting
appearance, and Patty was glad when the guests had all arrived and she
could leave her post and mingle with the crowd.
It was not long before a group of Patty's most intimate friends had
gathered on the Upper Deck to chat. Patty herself had been snugly
tucked into a deck chair by Kenneth, who insisted on showing her just
how the proceeding should be accomplished.
"Nothing shows your ignorance, my child, on board ship," he was saying,
"like not knowing how to manage your steamer rug and pillow."
"But," said Patty, "I shall then have on a suitable gown that will
stand rough usage; but I beg of you, Ken, stop tucking that rug around
my delicate kelpie decorations.
"Oh," said Kenneth, "you're a kelpie, then! Strange I didn't recognise
you at once, but I so rarely meet kelpies in the best society. Now I'm
Captain Kidd."
"Are you?" cried Elise gaily; "now I had an idea you were Admiral
Farragut; but then one so rarely meets Captain Kidd in the best
society."
"That's so," said Kenneth; "and think how long it will be, girls,
before you have the pleasure of meeting this particular Captain Kidd in
any society. I tell you, I envy you. You're going to have the time of
your life in Paris, and I wish to goodness I could go along with you."
"Oh, do, Kenneth," cried Patty; "we'd have just the best time ever!
Can't you give up college and put in a lot of study over there?"
"No, indeed, I can't; I'm only just wishing I could. There's no harm in
wishing, you know. But if you'll stay until next summer, perhaps I'll
come over and see you during vacation, and then we can all come home
together."
"That would be fine," said Elise, "and we're just as likely to stay
until summer as not. But then, on the other hand, we're just as likely
to come home as soon as we get there. You never can tell what those
absurd parents of mine are going to do."
Meantime a strange-looking figure was walking across the Upper Deck
toward the group that surrounded Patty. It was impossible not to
recognise the character, which was meant to be a representation of
Noah. But it was the well-known Noah of the children's Noah's ark, and
the straight-up-and-down, tightly fitting brown garment, with yellow
buttons down the front, was exactly like the patriarch as shown in the
wooden toys. A flat, broad-brimmed hat sat squarely on his head, and as
he held his arms straight down at his side, and as his cheeks bore
little round daubs of red paint, Mr. Hepworth was exactly like a
gigantic specimen of the nursery Noah.
He came across the deck with a staggering, uncertain motion, as if the
ship were rolling and pitching about. His realistic acting made them
all laugh, and when he dropped into a deck chair and, calling the
steward, asked faintly for a cup of weak tea, Patty declared she
believed she wouldn't go to Paris after all.
"For I'm sure," she said, "that I don't want to go wabbling across a
deck and looking as ill and woebegone as you do."
Mr. Hepworth smiled at her. "You'll have so many remedies and
preventives given you," he said, "and you'll be so busy pitching them
overboard that you won't have time to be seasick. Really I don't
believe you'll think of such a thing all the way over, let alone
experiencing it."
"You're a great comfort," said Patty heartily; "you always tell me the
most comforting things. Now everybody else declares that after I've
been at sea for a day I'll be so ill that I won't care whether I live
or die."
"Nonsense," declared Mr. Hepworth; "don't pay any attention to such
croakings."
"I agree with you," said Elise. "I've made up my mind that I'm not
going to be seasick, but I'm going to have a perfectly jolly time all
the way across."
"Of course you'll have jolly times," said Marian, who was in one of her
doleful moods; "but think of us who are left behind! We won't have any
jolly time until you come back again."
"Oh, I don't know!" said Kenneth. "Of course I'm devoted to these two
girls, but I'm not going to let it blight my young existence and crush
my whole career, just because I have to live without them for six
months."
"But you don't love Patty as I do," said Marian with a sigh, as she
gazed at her adored cousin.
"No, Marian, I don't," said Kenneth; "not as YOU do, for I assume that
you love her as a first cousin. Now my affection for Patty is more on
the order of a grandmother's brother-in-law once removed. You can't be
too careful about the exact type of attachment you feel for a young
lady, and I think that expresses my regard for Patty. Now toward Elise
I feel more like a great niece's uncle's brother-in-law. There is a
very subtle distinction between the two, but I know that both girls are
acutely aware of the exact kind and degree of my regard for them."
"I am, anyway," said Patty; "and I must say, Ken, that it's much easier
to leave you, with that definite affection of yours, than it is to go
away from Marian and leave her floundering in her deep and somewhat
damp woe."
Marian vouchsafed a sad sort of smile, and said it was all very well
for them to make fun of her, but she couldn't help missing Patty.
"Nobody can help missing Patty," declared Mr. Hepworth; "and for my
part, if I find that I miss her very much I shall go straight over to
Paris and bring her back."
"I hope you will," cried Patty; "that is, I hope you'll come over, and
perhaps we can persuade you not to be in such a dreadful hurry to come
back."
"I had expected to run over in the early spring, anyway," said Mr.
Hepworth carelessly, as if it were a matter of no moment; "I want to do
certain French sketches that I've had my mind on for some time."
"Well, if you do come," said Elise cordially, "come right to our house
and I know we can put you up. The Farringtons are erratic, but always
hospitable; and I hereby invite this whole crowd to visit us in Paris,
either jointly or severally, whenever the spirit moves you."
"If I find a spirit that can move me over to Paris, I shall come
often," declared Kenneth; "but I'm afraid I'm too substantially built
to be wafted across the ocean in the clutches of any spirit."
Just then the notes of a bugle sounded clear and sweet from below.
"That's the ship's bugler," declared Mr. Hepworth, "and that's the
bugle call for supper. Shall we go down and refresh ourselves?"
"Yes, indeed," cried Patty, jumping from her nest of steamer rugs; "I'm
as hungry as a hawk."
But it somehow happened that all of the gay young crowd left the Upper
Deck to go to the supper room before Patty and Mr. Hepworth started. He
detained her for a moment while he said: "Little girl, will you miss me
while you're away?"
"Even if I expected to I wouldn't own up to it," said Patty, as she
gave him a mischievous glance.
"Why wouldn't you own up to it?" Mr. Hepworth spoke quite seriously and
looked intently at the pretty face before him, with its golden hair
crowned by the shining green sea-wreath.
"I don't know," said Patty slowly. She felt herself forced by his
impelling gaze to raise her eyes to his, and for the first time it
occurred to her that Mr. Hepworth felt more interest in her than she
had ever suspected. "I don't know why I wouldn't own up to it, I'm
sure," she went on; "in fact, now that I come to think of it, I believe
I should own up to it."
"Well, own it then. Tell me you will miss me, and will sometimes wish I
might be with you."
"Oh," cried Patty, laughing merrily, "I only meant I would own it if it
were true. Of course I sha'n't really miss you; there'll be so much to
amuse and interest me that I sha'n't have time to miss anybody except
papa and Nan."
"That's just what I thought," said Mr. Hepworth.