MISS AURORA BENDER
After a visit of a few days, it was decided that Mr. and Mrs. Farrington
and Roger should continue the motor-trip on to Boston, and to certain
places along the New England coast, while Patty and Elise should stay at
Pine Branches for a longer visit.
The girls had expected to continue the trip with the others, but Bertha
had coaxed them to stay longer with her, and had held out such attractive
inducements that they decided to remain.
Patty, herself, was pleased with the plan, because she still felt the
effects of her recent mental strain, and realised that the luxurious ease
of Pine Branches would be far more of a rest than the more exciting
experiences of a motor trip.
So the girls were installed for a fortnight or more in the beautiful home
of the Warners, and with so many means of pleasure at her disposal, Patty
looked forward to a delightful period of both rest and recreation.
One morning, Bertha declared her intention of taking the girls to call on
Miss Aurora Bender.
"Who is she?" inquired Patty, as the three started off in Bertha's
pony-cart.
"She's a character," said Bertha, "but I won't tell you anything about
her; you can see her, and judge for yourself."
A drive of several miles brought them to a quaint old-fashioned
farmhouse.
The house, which had the appearance of being very old, was built of stone
and painted a light yellow, with white trimmings. Everything about the
place was in perfect repair and exquisite order, and as they drove in
around the gravel circle that surrounded a carefully kept bit of green
lawn, Bertha stopped the cart at an old-fashioned carriage-block, and the
girls got out. Running up the steps, Bertha clanged the old brass knocker
at what seemed to Patty to be the kitchen door. It was opened by a tall,
gaunt woman, with sharp features and angular figure.
"Well, I declare to goodness, Bertha Warner, if you aren't here again!
Who's that you've got with you this time? City folks, I s'pose. Well come
in, all of you, but wipe your feet first. As you've been riding, I s'pose
they ain't muddy much, but it's well to be on the safe side. So wipe 'em
good and then troop in."
Miss Aurora Bender had pushed her heavy gold-bowed glasses up on the top
of her head, and her whole-souled smile of welcome belied the gruffness
of her tone, and the seeming inhospitality of her words.
The girls took pains to wipe their dainty boots on the gaily-coloured
braided rug which lay just outside the door.
Then they entered a spacious low-ceiled room, which seemed to partake of
the qualities of both kitchen and dining-room. At one end was an immense
fireplace, with an old-fashioned swinging crane, from which depended many
skillets and kettles of highly polished brass or copper.
On either side of the room was a large dresser, with glass doors, through
which showed quantities of rare old china that made Patty's eyes shine
with delight. A quaint old settle and various old chairs of Windsor
pattern stood round the walls. The floor was painted yellow, and here and
there were braided mats of various designs.
"Sit down, girls, sit down," said Miss Bender, cordially, "and now
Bertha, tell me these young ladies' names,--unless, that is to say, you'd
rather sit in the parlour?"
"We would rather sit in the parlour, Miss Bender," said Bertha, quickly,
and as if fearing her hostess might not follow up her suggestion, Bertha
opened a door leading to the front hall, and started toward the parlour,
herself.
"Well," said Miss Bender, with a note of regret in her voice, "I s'pose
if you must, you must; though for my part, I'm free to confess that this
room's a heap more cozy and livable."
"That may be," said Bertha, who had beckoned to the girls to follow
quickly, "but my friends are from the city, as you suspected, and they
don't often have a chance in New York to see a parlour like yours, Miss
Bender."
As Bertha had intended, this bit of flattery mollified the old lady, and
she followed her guests along the dark hall.
"Well, if you're bound to have it so," she said, "do wait a minute, and
let me get in there and pull up the blinds. It's darker than Japhet's
coat pocket. I haven't had this room opened since Mis' Perkins across the
road had her last tea fight. And I only did it then, 'cause I wanted to
set some vases of my early primroses in the windows, so's the guests
might see 'em as they came by. Seems to me it's a little musty in here,
but land! a room will get musty if it's shut up, and what earthly good is
a parlour except to keep shut up?"
As Miss Bender talked, she had bustled about, and thrown open the six
windows of the large room, into which Bertha had taken the girls.
The sunlight streamed in, and disclosed a scene which seemed to Patty
like a wonderful vision of a century ago.
And indeed for more than a hundred years the furniture of the great
parlour had stood precisely as they now saw it.
The furniture was entirely of antique mahogany, and included sofas and
chairs, various kinds of tables, bookcases, a highboy, a lowboy and other
pieces of furniture of which Patty knew neither the name nor the use.
The pictures on the wall, the ornaments, the books and the old-fashioned
brass candlesticks were all of the same ancient period, and Patty felt as
if she had been transported back into the life of her great-grandmother.
As she had herself a pretty good knowledge of the styles and varieties of
antique furniture, she won Miss Bender's heart at once by her
appreciation of her Heppelwhite chairs and her Chippendale card-tables.
"You don't say," said Miss Bender, looking at Patty in admiration, "that
you really know one style from another! Lots of people pretend they do,
but they soon get confused when I try to pin 'em down."
Patty smiled, as she disclaimed any great knowledge of the subject, but
she soon found that she knew enough to satisfy her hostess, who, after
all, enjoyed describing her treasures even more than listening to their
praises.
Miss Aurora Bender was a lady of sudden and rapid physical motion. While
the girls were examining the wonderful old relics, she darted from the
room, and returned in a moment, carrying two large baskets. They were of
the old-fashioned type of closely-woven reed, with a handle over the top,
and a cover to lift up on either side.
Miss Bender plumped herself down in the middle of a long sofa, and began
rapidly to extract the contents of the baskets, which proved to be
numerous fat rolls of gayly-coloured cotton material.
"It's patchwork," she announced, "and I make it my habit to get all the
help I can. I'm piecing a quilt, goose-chase pattern, and while I don't
know as it's the prettiest there is, yet I don't know as 'tisn't. If you
girls expect to sit the morning, and I must say you look like it, you
might lend a helping hand. I made the geese smaller'n I otherwise would,
'cause I had so many little pieces left from my rising-sun quilt. Looks
just as well, of course, but takes a powerful sight of time to sew. And I
must say I'm sorter particular about sewing. However, I don't s'pose you
young things of this day and generation know much about sewing, but if
you go slow you can't help doing it pretty well."
As she talked, Miss Bender had hastily presented each of the girls with a
basted block of patchwork, and had passed around a needle-cushion and a
small box containing a number of old-fashioned silver thimbles.
"Lucky I had a big family," she commented, "else I don't know what I'd
done for thimbles to go around. I can't abide brass things, that make
your finger look like it had been dipped in ink, but thanks to my seven
sisters who are all restin' comfortably in their graves, I have enough
thimbles to provide quite a parcel of company. Here's your thread. Now
sew away while we talk, and we'll have a real nice little bee."
Although not especially fond of sewing, the girls looked upon this
episode as a good joke, and fell to work at their bits of cloth.
Elise was a dainty little needlewoman, and overhanded rapidly and neatly;
Patty did fairly well, though her stitches were not quite even, but poor
Bertha found her work a difficult task. She never did fancywork, and knew
nothing of sewing, so her thread knotted and broke, and her patch
presented a sorry sight.
"Land o' Goshen!" exclaimed Miss Aurora, "is that the best you can do,
Bertha Warner? The town ought to take up a subscription to put you in a
sewin' school. Here child, let me show you."
Miss Bender took Bertha's block and tried to straighten it out, while
Bertha herself made funny faces at the other girls over Miss Aurora's
shoulder.
"I can see you," said that lady calmly, "I guess you forget that big
mirror opposite. But them faces you're makin' ain't half so bad as this
sewin' of yours."
The girls all laughed outright at Miss Bender's calm acceptance of
Bertha's sauciness, and Bertha herself was in nowise embarrassed by the
implied rebuke.
"There, child," said Miss Aurora, smoothing out the seams with her thumb
nail, "now try again, and see if you can't do it some better."
"Is your quilt nearly done, Miss Bender?" asked Patty.
"Yes, it is. I've got three hundred and eighty-seven geese finished, and
four hundred's enough. I work on it myself quite a spell every day, and I
think in two or three days I'll have it all pieced."
"Oh, Miss Bender," cried Bertha, "then won't you quilt it? Won't you have
a quilting party while my friends are here?"
"Humph," said Miss Aurora, scornfully, "you children can't quilt fit to
be seen."
"Elise can," said Bertha, looking at Elise's dainty block, "and Patty can
do pretty well, and as I would spoil your quilt if I touched it, Miss
Aurora, I'll promise to let it alone; but I can do other things to help
you. Oh, do have the party, will you?"
"Why, I don't know but I will. I kinder calculated to have it soon,
anyhow, and if so be's you young people would like to come to it, I don't
see anything to hinder. S'pose we say a week from to-day?"
The date was decided on, and the girls went home in high glee over the
quilting party, for Bertha told them it would be great fun of a sort they
had probably never seen before.
* * * * *
The days flew by rapidly at Pine Branches. Patty rapidly recovered her
usual perfect health and rosy cheeks. She played golf and tennis, she
went for long rides in the Warners' motor-car or carriages, and also on
horseback. There were many guests at the house, coming and going, and
among these one day came Mr. Phelps, whom they had met on their journey
out from New York.
This gentleman proved to be of a merry disposition, and added greatly to
the gaiety of the party. While he was there, Roger also came back for a
few days, having left Mr. and Mrs. Farrington for a short stay at
Nantucket.
One morning, as Patty and Roger stood in the hall, waiting for the other
young people to join them, they were startled to hear angry voices in the
music-room.
This room was separated from them by the length of the library, and
though not quite distinct, the voices were unmistakably those of Bertha
and Winthrop.
"You did!" said Winthrop's voice, "don't deny it! You're a horrid hateful
old thing!"
"I didn't! any such thing," replied Bertha's voice, which sounded on the
verge of tears.
"You did! and if you don't give it back to me, I'll tell mother. Mother
said if she caught you at such a thing again, she'd punish you as you
deserved, and I'm going to tell her!"
Patty felt most uncomfortable at overhearing this quarrel. She had never
before heard a word of disagreement between Bertha and her brother, and
she was surprised as well as sorry to hear this exhibition of temper.
Roger looked horrified, and glanced at Patty, not knowing exactly what to
do.
The voices waxed more angry, and they heard Bertha declare, "You're a
horrid old telltale! Go on and tell, if you want to, and I'll tell what
you stole out of father's desk last week!"
"How did you know that?" and Winthrop's voice rang out in rage.
"Oh, I know all about it. You think nobody knows anything but yourself,
Smarty-cat! Just wait till I tell father and see what he'll do to you."
"You won't tell him! Promise me you won't, or I'll,--I'll hit you! There,
take that!"
"That" seemed to be a resounding blow, and immediately Bertha's cries
broke forth in angry profusion.
"Stop crying," yelled her brother, "and stop punching me. Stop it, I
say!"
At this point the conversation broke off suddenly, and Patty and Roger
stared in stupefied amazement as they saw Bertha and Winthrop walk in
smiling, and hand in hand, from exactly the opposite direction from which
their quarrelsome voices had sounded.
"What's the matter?" said Bertha. "Why do you look so shocked and scared
to death?"
"N-nothing," stammered Patty; while Roger blurted out, "We thought we
heard you talking over that way, and then you came in from this way. Who
could it have been? The voices were just like yours."
Bertha and Winthrop broke into a merry laugh.
"It's the phonograph," said Bertha. "Winthrop and I fixed up that quarrel
record, just for fun; isn't it a good one?"
Roger understood at once, and went off into peals of laughter, but Patty
had to have it explained to her.
"You see," said Winthrop, "we have a big phonograph, and we make records
for it ourselves. Bertha and I fixed up that one just for fun, and Elise
is in there now looking after it. Come on in, and see it."
They all went into the music-room, and Winthrop entertained them by
putting in various cylinders, which they had made themselves.
Almost as funny as the quarrel was Bertha's account of the occasion when
she fell into the creek, and many funny recitations by Mr. Warner also
made amusing records.
Patty could hardly believe that she had not heard her friends' voices
really raised in anger, until Winthrop put the same record in and let her
hear it again.
He also promised her that some day she should make a record for herself,
and leave it at Pine Branches as a memento of her visit.