THE END OF THE SUMMER
"Whew!" said Dick Phelps, in his straightforward way, "he's mad at you,
isn't he?"
"Yes," said Patty, "and it's so silly! All about nothing at all. I wish
you'd take me back to him, Mr. Phelps, and leave us alone, and I think I
can straighten matters out in two minutes."
"Indeed, I'll do nothing of the sort," returned Mr. Phelps, in his
masterful way; "you promised to go to the photograph place, and that's
where we're going. I don't propose to give you up to any young man we
chance to meet!"
Patty laughed, and they went on. At the photograph booth they found many
of the gaily dressed young people, anxious to have pictures of themselves
in their pretty costumes. Patty and Mr. Phelps had to wait their turn,
but finally succeeded in getting a number of pictures. Patty had some
taken alone, and some in which she was one of a gay group. Some were
successful portraits, and others were not, but all were provocative of
much laughter and fun. By a rapid process of development, the
photographers were enabled to furnish the completed pictures in less than
a half hour after the cameras did their work, and as a consequence, this
booth was exceedingly popular and promised handsome returns for the
benefit of charity.
Mr. Phelps and Patty loitered about, waiting for their pictures, when
Patty caught sight of Nan, and running to her she said, "For goodness'
sake, Nan, do help me out! Kenneth's as mad as hops, and all about
nothing! Now I want you to ask him to come to supper with our crowd, and
you must _make_ him come!"
"I can't make him come, if he doesn't want to. You've been teasing him,
Patty, and you must get out of your own scrapes."
"Ah, Nan, dear," coaxed Patty, "do be good, and truly, if you'll just
persuade him to come to supper with us, I'll do the rest."
"I'll try," said Nan as she walked away, "but I won't promise that I'll
succeed."
She did succeed, however, and some time later Mr. Fairfield gathered the
large party whom he had invited to supper, in the English Dairy.
The supper was to be a fine one, far exceeding the bounds of Dairy fare,
and Mr. Fairfield had reserved a long table for his guests.
As they trooped in, laughing and talking, and seated themselves for the
feast, Patty was relieved to see that Kenneth was among them, after all.
He took a seat between Elise and Helen Barlow, and knowing Bumble's good
nature, Patty went directly to her, and asked her if she wouldn't move,
as she wanted to sit there herself.
"Of course I will," said Bumble, and jumping up, she ran around to the
other side of the table.
Then Patty deliberately sat down by Kenneth, who couldn't very well get
up and walk away, himself, though he looked at her with no expression of
welcome in his glance.
Without a word, Patty leaned over and selected from a dish of olives on
the table one which had a stem to it.
With a tiny bit of ribbon she tied the olive to a little green branch she
had brought in with her, and then demurely held the token toward Kenneth.
For a moment the boy looked rather blank, and then realising that Patty
was offering him the olive branch of peace, and that she had gone to some
trouble to do this, and that moreover she had done it rather cleverly,
the boy's face broke into a smile, and he turned toward Patty.
"Thank you," he said, as he took the little spray, and attached it to the
rolling collar of his blouse. "I accept it, with its full meaning."
"You're such a goose, Kenneth!" said Patty, her eyes dancing with
laughter. "There was nothing to get huffy about."
"Well," said Kenneth, feeling his grounds for complaint slipping away
from him, "you pranced off with that Roland chap, after you had just told
me you couldn't leave your gypsy queen business."
"I know it," said Patty, "but Ken, he brought a nice lady to fill my
place, and besides, he asked me to go to get red flowers and I really
wanted red flowers."
"I asked you to go for flowers too," said Kenneth, not yet entirely
mollified.
"Yes," said Patty, "but you didn't say _red_ flowers. How did I know but
that you'd buy pink or blue ones, and so spoil my whole gypsy costume?"
Kenneth had to laugh in spite of himself, at this bit of audacity. "And
then right afterwards you went off again with Dick Phelps," he continued.
"Kenneth," said Patty, looking at him with an expression of mock terror,
"I couldn't help myself that time! Honest, I couldn't. Mr. Phelps is a
fearful tyrant. He's an ogre, and when he commanded me to go, I just had
to go! He's a man that makes you do a thing, whether you want to or not.
Why, Kenneth, he just marched me off!"
"All right," said Kenneth, "I'll take a leaf out of his book. After this,
when I want you to go anywhere, _I'll_ just march you off."
"You can try," said Patty, saucily, "but I'm not sure you can do it. It
takes a certain type of man to do that sort of thing successfully, and I
don't know anybody but Dick Phelps who's just that kind."
But peace was restored, for Kenneth realised that Patty's explanation was
a fair one, and that he had been foolishly quick to take offence.
After supper they all went to the grand stand to see the parade of fancy
costumes.
These were quite separate from the booth attendants, and a prize had been
offered for the cleverest conceit, most successfully carried out.
When at last the grand march took place, it showed a wonderful array of
thoroughly ingenious costumes.
Of course there were many clowns, historical characters, fairies, and
queer nondescript creatures, but there were also many characters which
were unique and noteworthy.
Mr. Hepworth, who was in the parade, had chosen to represent the full
moon.
How he did it, no one quite knew; but all that was visible was an
enormous sphere, of translucent brightness and a luminous yellow color.
Mr. Fairfield declared that the medium must be phosphorus, but all agreed
that it was a wonderful achievement, and many thought it would surely
take the prize.
The sphere was hollow, and made of a light framework, and Mr. Hepworth
walked inside of it, really carrying it along with him. It so nearly
touched the ground that his feet were scarcely observable, and the great
six foot globe made a decided sensation, as it moved slowly along.
Patty remembered that Roger had declared he was going to take the prize,
and as she had knowledge of the boy's ability along these lines, she felt
by no means sure that it wouldn't eclipse Mr. Hepworth's shining orb.
And sure enough, when Roger appeared, it was in the character of a
Christmas tree!
The clever youth had selected just the right kind of a tree, and cutting
away enough twigs and branches near the trunk on one side, he had made a
space in which he could thrust the whole of his tall slender self.
To protect his face and hands from the scratchy foliage, and also to
render himself inconspicuous, he wore a tight-fitting robe of dark brown
muslin, which concealed even his face and arms, though eyeholes allowed
him to see where he was going.
In a word, the boy himself almost constituted the trunk of the tree, and
by walking slowly, it looked as if the tree itself was moving along
without assistance.
The tree was gaily hung with real Christmas trinkets and decorations, and
lighted with candles.
The idea was wonderfully clever, and though it had been hard work to
arrange the boughs to conceal him entirely, Roger had accomplished it,
and the gay decorations hid all defects.
The judges awarded the prize to Roger, who calmly remarked to Patty,
afterward, "I told you I'd get it, didn't I?"
"Yes," said Patty, "and so then of course I knew you would."
It was a rather tired party that went back to the Fairfields' house at
the close of the evening.
Nan and Mr. Fairfield issued strict orders that everybody must go to bed
at once, as there were two more strenuous days ahead, and they needed all
the rest they could get.
But next morning they reappeared, quite ready for fresh exertions, and
Patty declared that for her part she'd like to be a gypsy all the year
round.
"Well I never want to be a Christmas tree again," said Roger, "in spite
of my precautions, I'm all scratched up!"
"Never mind," said his sister consolingly, "you took the prize, and
that's glory enough to make up for lots of scratches."
The second and third days of the Fair were much like the first, except
that the crowds of visitors continually increased.
The fame of the entertainment spread rapidly, and people came, even from
distant parts of Long Island, to attend the festivities.
But at last it was all over, and the Fairfield verandah was crowded with
young people, apparently of all nations, who were congratulating each
other on the wonderful success.
"Of course," said Patty, "the greatest thing was that we had such perfect
weather. If it had rained, the whole thing would have been spoiled."
"But it didn't rain," said Nan, "and everything went off all right, and
they must have made bushels of money."
"Well, it was lovely," said Patty with a little sigh, "and I enjoyed
every minute of it, but I don't want to engage in another one right away.
I think I shall go to bed and sleep for a week!"
"I wish I were a bear," said Kenneth, "they can go to sleep and sleep all
winter."
"You'd make a good bear," said Patty, in an aside to him, "because you
can be so cross."
But the merry smile that accompanied her words robbed them of any
unpleasant intent, and Kenneth smiled back in sympathy.
"Just to think," said Nan, "a week from to-day we'll all be back in the
city, and our lovely summer vacation a thing of the past."
"It has been a beautiful summer," said Patty, her thoughts flying
backward over the past season. "I've never had such a happy summer in my
life. It's been just one round of pleasure after another. Everybody has
been so good to me and the whole world seems to have connived to help me
have a good time."
"In so far as I'm part of the whole world, allow me to express my
willingness to keep right on conniving," said big Dick Phelps, in his
funny way.
"Me, too," said Kenneth, in his hearty, boyish voice.
Mr. Hepworth said nothing, but he smiled at Patty from where he sat at
the other end of the long verandah.