A Great Disappointment
As December passed by, and the term drew to a close, Patty's impatience
began almost to get the better of her. No thirteen weeks had ever
appeared so long. She felt as if she had been away from home for years,
and she yearned for a sight of all the loved faces. Letters, though very
well in their way, were unsatisfactory things, especially the
children's, which contained little news for the amount of paper covered,
and consisted mostly of wishes for her return, with a whole page of
crosses meant to represent kisses at the end. Now at last, however, she
could count the remainder of the term by days instead of weeks, and her
fancy was busy painting in rainbow colours a picture of her arrival,
first at the station, where perhaps her father would meet her, and then
at the dear, well-known door, where her mother would be waiting to clasp
her in the warmest hug, and all the younger ones would be watching
eagerly to welcome her back again. It was such an enthralling prospect
that Patty's eyes shone whenever she thought about it, and she sometimes
executed a little dance of delight in the privacy of her cubicle, to let
off some of the effervescence of her spirits.
"Only four days more!" she said to herself one night. "I suppose I shall
manage to get through them somehow! I wonder if it seems as long to
Mother and the others! I've never looked forward to anything so much in
my life. It makes me wild with joy to think it's so near."
Poor Patty! In the midst of her pleasant anticipations a bitter
disappointment was in store for her. It seemed hard indeed that all her
cherished plans must suddenly and ruthlessly be destroyed; but it takes
a mingled warp and woof of joy and sorrow to weave the patterns of our
lives, and a piece of dark background is sometimes needed to bring the
brighter parts into full relief. The very next morning a letter arrived
from Mrs. Hirst, containing such bad news that Patty had to read it
twice over before she entirely grasped the full meaning of its tidings.
Three of the younger children were ill with scarlet fever, Rowley
seriously so, and Robin and Kitty quite poorly enough to cause a certain
amount of anxiety. The small patients had been carefully isolated, and
so far the other children were well; but they were of course liable to
develop the complaint, and needed careful watching. In the circumstances
it was quite impossible for Patty to come home. She must not venture
within danger of infection, for even if she did not take scarlet fever
herself, it would not be right to allow her to go back to school after
the holidays from a house where there had been sickness.
"Uncle Sidney and Aunt Lucy have very kindly invited you to Thorncroft,"
wrote Mrs. Hirst, "so you will return with Muriel, and will, I hope,
have a pleasant holiday there. It is hard for us all to miss our
Christmas together, but you must be a brave girl, darling, and look
forward to seeing us at Easter instead. I cannot even write to you
often, because I am nursing our invalids, and Father has to disinfect my
letters carefully in the surgery before he considers it safe to forward
them. Milly, however, shall write you a postcard every day, to say how
we are, and you will be constantly in my thoughts, though I may not be
able to do more than send you a brief message."
To Patty it seemed as if the sun had suddenly gone out. That she must
forego all her home joys and spend the holidays with Muriel was indeed a
great hardship.
"Muriel won't want me, I know," she sobbed, "and it won't seem like
Christmas at all to have to spend it at Thorncroft. Oh, how I wish I
could have gone home first, before the children were taken ill, and then
I could have helped to nurse them! Easter is months and months off. I
don't know how I'm going to live till I see them all again."
After one storm of grief, however, Patty, like a sensible girl, dried
her eyes, and tried to put on a bright face and make the best of things
as they were. It seemed no use bemoaning her misery, and spoiling all
her friends' happiness by dwelling on her troubles, so she managed to
interest herself in Enid's packing, and to sympathize with Jean's choice
of Christmas presents, though it was hard to listen to the others' glad
plans when her own had suffered such shipwreck. It is a great
accomplishment to be able to smile outside when we are crying inside,
and I don't believe Patty could have done it if she had not been so
accustomed to forget her own side of a question, and engross herself in
other people's affairs. As it was, her power of self-mastery helped her
to be brave and cheery in spite of her disappointment; but it was not an
easy task, and it cost her best efforts to smother her grief, and keep
up to anything like her usual level of good spirits. It is sometimes
more difficult to practise the little self-denials and do the unlauded
acts of courage than to make one supreme sacrifice while the world
applauds; so I think Patty deserved to be called a heroine for her small
victory, which nobody noticed, just as much as if it had been a great
one. She had, at any rate, one compensation to console her. Jean
Bannerman also lived at Waverton, and would travel home with Muriel and
herself, and she hoped it might be possible to see something of Jean
during the holidays. The breaking-up day arrived at last, and Patty,
after a warm good-bye to Enid, Winnie, and Avis, was put with her two
companions under the guardianship of Miss Rowe, who escorted them to the
junction, and saw them safely into the northern express. Even though she
was not going to her own home, Patty felt rather cheered at leaving The
Priory and starting upon a journey; and the prospect of Christmas and
its attendant festivities was an enlivening one.
She had a kind welcome from her uncle and aunt, and her cousin Horace,
who had returned from school the day before, also seemed pleased to see
her. Patty always liked Horace much better than Muriel. He was far
kinder to her, and would often ask her to help him with his photography,
or to arrange his cases of beetles, butterflies, and moths, entertaining
her the while with accounts of his adventures at school, some of which
were of such a thrilling description that she suspected they were made
up for her benefit. Muriel, who preferred to keep her brother to
herself, was jealous of this intimacy; she did not want to include Patty
in their family life, and though she did not dare to say so to her
parents, she secretly resented her cousin's presence. The two girls were
necessarily thrown much in each other's company, and so overbearing did
Muriel prove sometimes, that it needed all Patty's self-restraint to
prevent a quarrel. It was not pleasant to be ordered about, told to
fetch and carry, and receive no thanks for her pains; and particularly
disagreeable to be given to understand that she was an unwelcome
visitor, who ought to consider herself very fortunate to have been asked
at all. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Pearson had any idea how unkind Muriel was
to Patty in private; they were proud of their pretty little daughter,
and fondly liked to think she was everything they could desire: their
love made them blind to small indications of character, and so long as
they saw no glaring fault they thought all was well. Muriel from her
babyhood had been accustomed to expect her own way in everything. Her
father, mother, and brother had made a pet of her, and spoilt her so
entirely that she had grown up a very selfish girl, and even the
influence of school life, wholesome though it was, had not been able so
far to undo the ill effects of her home training. The first few days at
Thorncroft were naturally occupied with preparations for Christmas.
Patty was very anxious to send some little gifts home to the children,
and spent much time and thought planning how she could most
advantageously lay out the few shillings of pocket money which she
possessed. It was a difficult matter when there were so many presents
required, and one which demanded serious consideration. In lack of any
other confidant, she talked it over with Muriel.
"There's the tray-cloth for Mother, which I worked at school," she said.
"That's quite finished, and it looks very nice, only a little crushed.
Aunt Lucy says Emma shall iron it out for me. I wish I could think of
something for Father. Can you suggest anything?"
Muriel shook her head.
"I can't," she replied. "I'm in the same difficulty nearly every year.
There seems nothing you can give to a gentleman that he really cares
for. I've made shaving cloths, and cigarette cases, and match-box
holders, and heaps of other things for Father, and he always says 'Thank
you!' and puts them away in his drawer, and never uses them. He must
have a whole pile of my presents somewhere."
"I thought of a blotter," said Patty, "but I know it would only be left
lying about in the surgery. Father has a stylo. pen, and hardly ever
needs blotting-paper. The little ones give him useful things--boxes of
matches, and railway guides, and cakes of soap."
"Cakes of soap!" laughed Muriel.
"Yes, why not? They can't think of anything else to buy. But I wanted
something nicer. I wish someone would publish a book on how to make
Christmas presents for one's father."
"They might suggest things, but they couldn't guarantee his using them
when they were made."
"It's much easier for the children," said Patty, "because I know exactly
what they'd like."
"That's no trouble, then," yawned Muriel. "We shall be going into town
to-morrow. You'll have plenty of choice at Archer's."
"Too much, I'm afraid," said Patty. "I shall want to buy all I see."
"Well, if I were you, I should get them each a shilling toy, and then
one wouldn't be better than another," said Muriel carelessly, rising and
putting an end to a conversation of which she was growing tired. "I'm
thankful to say my presents are all arranged."
It was easy enough, Patty thought, for Muriel to suggest shilling toys
in such an airy manner, but quite an impossibility to provide them for
seven brothers and sisters when her small green purse only contained a
half-crown and a new sixpence. Her gifts would have to be very modest
ones, and it would take much ingenuity to make her money last out. Emma,
her aunt's maid, came to the rescue by hunting out a large bag of
coloured wools and helping her to make a ball for the baby. This Patty
knew would delight him, and would leave her a little extra to spend upon
the others. On the day before Christmas Eve, Mrs. Pearson took Muriel
and Patty to town with her, and after visiting several places, the
carriage finally drew up at Archer's, a large general store where toys
and all kinds of fancy articles were sold. The shop was so crowded that
it was quite difficult to obtain attention from the overworked
assistants, and Mrs. Pearson was obliged to wait some time before making
her purchases. It had been a busy morning for her; she was not strong,
and by the time she had bought what she needed, she was thoroughly
tired.
"You children must be quick, if there is anything you want," she said,
consulting her watch. "I particularly wish to be home by half-past
twelve, so I can only allow you ten minutes for your shopping. Where
shall we go first?"
"To the book department," said Muriel promptly. "You know I haven't
spent the present Aunt Ida sent me yet, and I want to choose something
nice."
"Wouldn't it do another day, dear?" suggested her mother.
"No, I'd like to buy it now, and then I can have it to read on Christmas
Day. Do come, Mother!"
The book department was upstairs, and proved as crowded as the floor
below. After some difficulty they managed to find a place at the
counter, and Muriel was soon occupied in turning over the pages of
various fascinating stories, hesitating so long over her choice that the
ten minutes soon lengthened out into a quarter of an hour.
"Do be quick, Muriel!" Patty ventured to whisper. "Aunt Lucy wants to go
home, and I haven't bought one of my presents yet!"
"Oh, bother!" replied Muriel. "Do you think you'd have this historical
tale, or this school story, if you were choosing?"
"The school one," said Patty, "though either looks nice. Here's the
assistant. If you buy it now, perhaps Aunt Lucy would take me to the toy
department for just five minutes."
"I can't make up my mind yet," said Muriel. "I'd rather look at a few
others first. Hand me that one bound in green. Yes, and the red one too.
Oh, don't be a nuisance! Your Christmas presents will have to wait. I'm
not going to decide in a hurry just to please you."
Poor Patty thought Muriel would never finish her purchase. She examined
book after book, till at length even her mother waxed impatient, and
declared she could stay no longer.
"It is twenty minutes past twelve now," she said, "and I have made an
appointment at half-past to meet the superintendent of the Sunday School
about the Scholars' Christmas Tree. I should not like to keep him
waiting, and I am afraid I shall be late as it is. You must choose at
once, dear, and come."
It took almost five minutes longer to secure the services of the
assistant, who in the meantime had been attending to somebody else, and
to wait while she wrapped the book in paper and fetched the change: so
when at length Muriel was able to take her parcel, Mrs. Pearson was most
anxious to start for home.
"I suppose there's no time for me to buy anything?" ventured Patty,
timidly.
"Oh no, dear!" said her aunt. "We must hurry away at once; you should
have mentioned it before. What did you want to get?"
"Some little presents for the children," said Patty. "I've brought my
purse with me."
"I am sending them a parcel to-morrow," said Mrs. Pearson, "so that will
do for you as well. You shall help me to pack it if you like. Dear me,
it's nearly half-past twelve already! How very annoying! Jackson must
drive home as quickly as he can. I shall have to apologize to Mr.
Saunders. He's always so punctual, I'm sure I shall find him in the
breakfast-room when we arrive."
Patty entered the carriage in a very dejected frame of mind. It seemed
so hard, when the money had been in her pocket all the morning, that she
should have found no opportunity of spending it. She had wished so much
to send Christmas boxes to the little ones, and though she knew her
aunt's gifts would probably be much handsomer than any she could have
afforded, she felt it was not at all the same as if they were her own.
"It's the first Christmas I've ever been away from home," she said to
herself, "and I wanted everyone to have a remembrance from me. They'll
be so disappointed, and think I've taken no trouble over them. I haven't
even any cards to send them."
In spite of her efforts she could not get over her disappointment, and
as she sat by the breakfast-room fire after lunch, the tears began to
well up in her eyes at the thought of the delightful parcel which she
had hoped by now to be packing up and despatching. Muriel, seated in the
opposite armchair, was absorbed in her new story, and beyond
occasionally asking Patty to poke the fire or put on more coals, took no
notice of her cousin, and did not see that anything was wrong. Patty
tried to fix her attention on "The Daisy Chain", which she had just
begun to read, but the description of the large family made her think of
her own, and she felt so wretchedly homesick and miserable that big
drops blurred her eyes and fell down on to the pages of her book. She
was wiping them up carefully with her pocket handkerchief when the door
opened suddenly, and Cousin Horace made his appearance.
"Hello!" he cried cheerily. "I thought I should find you two in here!
Muriel, Mother wants you for a minute in her bedroom."
"What for?"
"Your new dress has come, I believe."
Muriel jumped up with alacrity and went upstairs, and Horace, taking her
vacant chair, stretched himself lazily, and put his feet on the fender.
"I don't know what it is about holidays," he remarked; "they make a
fellow want to do nothing but lounge. Don't you feel the same, Patty?"
"I'm not sure," said Patty, so very chokily that Horace sat up and
examined her with critical eyes.
"Why, what's the matter?" he exclaimed.
"Nothing," said Patty, "at least, not much."
"But you're crying."
It was such a self-evident statement that Patty did not reply.
"Have you been quarrelling with Muriel?"
"No. Oh no!"
"Then what is it?"
"It seems hardly worth while telling."
"Of course it is. Look here, Patty, you and I are chums. If you've
anything on your mind, just reel it off and get rid of it. Perhaps I can
help."
"It's only about the children," began Patty.
"Well! Go on! What about them?"
"I meant to buy them some presents, and there was no time when we were
shopping this morning, and Aunt Lucy isn't going into town again before
Christmas, so I can't get them at all now," said Patty, blurting out her
trouble as briefly as she could.
"Is that all?" asked Horace.
"It's quite enough for me," replied Patty, wiping her eyes again.
"Why, my dear girl, that's easily remedied. Put on your hat and jacket
and I'll take you to town in the tramcar. It's only half-past three, and
we'll soon buy what you want."
"Oh! Would Aunt Lucy really let us?" cried Patty, brightening up at such
a delightful prospect.
"Why not? We'll go and ask her. Stuff that handkerchief in your pocket,
and come along now."
Horace knew exactly the right way to wheedle his mother, and very soon
persuaded her to allow them to start on their expedition.
"Patty must put on her fur," said Mrs. Pearson. "It is much too cold and
foggy for Muriel to go out. I heard her coughing last night."
"I don't want to go, thanks," said Muriel, who looked a little annoyed.
"Horace can please himself. I thought he said he was going to develop my
films."
"I'll do that another day. Be quick, Patty, or you'll find everything
bought up before you get there! I expect the shops will be crammed as
full of people as they'll hold."
It was in very different spirits indeed that Patty buttoned her boots,
and, donning her outdoor garments, joined Horace, who was waiting for
her in the hall. It was freezing keenly, and the ground crunched
crisply under their feet as they walked down the drive. They were
obliged to wait nearly ten minutes for the tramcar, and it was bitterly
cold standing at the corner of the road, but Patty did not mind in the
least when she thought of her errand. It was almost dark before they
reached the town, and the streets looked bright and cheerful, with their
many gas lamps and electric lights shining out through the murky
atmosphere. Everyone appeared to be busy with Christmas shopping, and
the pavements were crowded with people gazing at the presents displayed
in the windows: and almost all seemed to be carrying a number of
parcels. There was such a happy, cheery feeling in the air, in spite of
the fog, that Patty felt inclined to smile at everybody she met, even
the conductor who came to collect their fares, or the stout woman who
sat next to her, and whose large basket was such an inconvenience. She
was beaming with joy as she and Horace left the car at the terminus and
walked down the main street, looking at the gay shop windows as they
went.
"I hope you've made a list of your presents," said Horace, "and then we
shan't waste time. I think the best plan is to go to a shop, ask for
what you want, and insist upon having it. Don't let them show you
half-a-dozen other things, and try to persuade you they're quite as
good."
"I haven't made a list," said Patty, "but I want to buy eight presents,
and only spend three shillings. It allows just fourpence-halfpenny for
each, or if I could spend a little less on some of the children's, I
might afford rather more for Father's."
"Whew!" exclaimed Horace. "It requires rather careful calculation.
You'll have to be uncommonly economical, I'm afraid. What can you
possibly buy for fourpence-halfpenny that's worth having?"
"A great many things," said Patty. "Toys, of course, for the little
ones. It's far harder to choose presents for Basil and Milly, and it
will be terribly difficult to get one for Father, I'm sure. Why, there's
Uncle Sidney! He's seen us, and he's crossing the street."
"Well, Patty," said Mr. Pearson, "what are you and Horace doing here?"
"We've come shopping," explained Horace. "Patty's going to hunt bargains
to send home. She wants to buy eight Christmas presents for three
shillings. Isn't she plucky?" he added, with a meaning glance at his
father.
"You had better take her to Archer's stores," said Mr. Pearson, "and see
what you can find there." Then, putting his hand in his pocket, he drew
out a sovereign and slipped it into his niece's hand. "This is my
present to you, Patty," he said. "Perhaps you would rather have it now
than on Christmas Day. Spend it just as you like, my dear," and he
hurried away almost before she had time to say "Thank you".
With such wealth at her disposal, Patty could now afford to be
extravagantly generous, and I think she never enjoyed any afternoon in
her life more than the one spent in Archer's stores. I fear she tried
Horace's patience, after all, by looking at a great many unnecessary
articles; but in the end she secured exactly what she wanted, and
emerged from the crowded shop in such a state of bliss that he forbore
to scold, and took her various packages instead--a great self-denial on
his part, for he was a young gentleman who considered it much beneath
his dignity to carry a parcel. I do not know which delighted Patty most,
when she opened her treasures on her return, whether it was the pair of
thick driving gloves for her father, or the books for Basil and Milly,
or the wonderful toys for the little ones. Mary, the nurse, had not been
forgotten--a pretty handkerchief-box was to bear her name; and there was
even a bottle of scent for Anne, the kitchen servant, and a pencil-case
for Hughes, the coachman.
"They'll be so surprised," she said. "I'm sure they won't expect such
lovely presents as these."
"These aren't nearly so nice as the things Mother's sending them," said
Muriel, turning over the toys in a rather disdainful manner.
"No, but they'll like them all the same, because they come from me. It
will be so delightful to write 'From Patty' on each."
"Well, I should hardly have thought it worth while to go into town on
purpose to buy them, and especially to drag poor Horace out on such a
cold, foggy afternoon," said Muriel.
"She didn't drag me out, Sis; it was I who suggested it," interposed
Horace. "Why can't you let her enjoy her presents without finding fault
with them?"
"I'm not finding fault."
"Yes, you are."
"You're quite absurd about Patty."
"And you're not very kind."
"It's the first time you've ever called me unkind," said Muriel,
flushing angrily. "I think it's horrid of you to run away from me for a
whole afternoon and then speak to me like this! You're unkind yourself!"
And throwing down the humming top which she had been examining, she
stalked out of the room, and banged the door behind her. Horace, who
was extremely fond of his sister, followed, and succeeded in making
peace. Muriel was mollified when he played chess with her all the
evening, and forgave him for what she considered his neglect; but his
championship of Patty did not make her love her cousin any the better.