MONA'S PLAN
That night, when Patty was alone in her own room, she threw herself
into a rocking chair, and rocked violently, as was her habit, when she
had anything to bother her. She looked about at the pretty room,
furnished with all her dear and cherished belongings.
"To go away from all this," she thought, "and be mewed up in a little
bare room, with a few sticks of horrid old furniture, and nowhere to
put things away decently!"
She glanced at her room wardrobes and numerous chiffoniers and
dressing-tables.
"Live in a trunk, I s'pose," she went on to herself; "all my best
frocks in a mess of wrinkles, all my best hats smashed to windmills! No
broad ocean to look at! Nothing but mountains with trees all over their
sides! Nothing to do but walk up rocky, steep paths to a spring, take a
drink of water, and come stumbling down again! In the evenings, dress
up, and promenade eighty thousand feet of veranda, AS ADVERTISED!"
Roused to a frenzy by her own self-pity and indignation, Patty got up
and stalked about the room. She flung off her pretty summer frock, and
slipped on a blue silk kimono. Then she sat down in front of her
dressing-table to brush her hair for the night.
She drew out the pins, and great curly masses came tumbling down around
her shoulders. Patty's hair was truly golden, and did not turn darker
as she grew older.
She brushed away slowly, and looked at herself in the mirror. What she
saw must have surprised her, for she dropped her brush in astonishment.
"Well, Patricia Fairfield!" she exclaimed to her own reflection. "You
ought to be ashamed of yourself! YOU, who are supposed to be of amiable
disposition, YOU whom people call 'Sunshine,' because of your good
nature, YOU who have every joy and every blessing that heart can wish,
you look like a sour-faced, cross-grained, disgruntled old maid! So
there now! And, Miss, do you want to know what _I_ think of you?" She
picked up her hair brush, and shook it at the flushed, angry face in
the mirror. "Well, _I_ think you're a monster of selfishness! You're a
dragon of ingratitude! And a griffin of cross-patchedness! Now, Miss,
WILL you drop this attitude of injured innocence, and act like a
civilised human being?"
Patty was a little over hard on herself. She hadn't at all exhibited
such traits as she charged herself with, but she was not a girl to do
things by halves. She sat, calmly looking at her own face, until the
lines smoothed themselves out of her forehead, the dimples came back to
her cheeks, and the laughter to her blue eyes.
"That's better!" she said, wagging her head at the pretty, smiling
face. "Now, never again, Patty Fairfield, let me see you looking mopy
or peevish about anything! Mind, not about anything at all! You have
enough blessings and pleasures to make up for any disappointments that
may come to you. So, now that you've braced up, just STAY braced up!
See?"
The scolding, though self-inflicted, did Patty good, and humming a
lively tune, she busied herself with arranging some fans and frills in
boxes to take away with her.
If stray thoughts of the Pageant or the Fancy Dance crept into her
mind, she determinedly thrust them out, and forced her anticipations to
the unknown fun and gaiety she would enjoy at the big Mountain Houses.
And when at last, ready for bed, she stood in front of her long cheval
glass, the folds of her blue dressing gown trailing away from her
pretty, lace-frilled nightgown, she shook her forefinger warningly at
the smiling reflection.
"Now, mind you, Patricia, not a whimper out of you to-morrow! Not a
shadow of a shade of disappointment on your fair young brow? Only happy
smiles and pleasant words, and just MAKE yourself enjoy the prospect of
those poky, gloomy, horrid old mountains!"
It will be easily seen that Patty was amenable to discipline, for next
morning she went dancing downstairs, looking like amiability
personified. Even Nan came to the conclusion that Patty was reconciled
to the mountain trip, and had begun to see the pleasanter side of it.
Mr. Fairfield regarded his daughter approvingly. Though Patty had not
been cross or glum the day before, she had been silent, and now she
treated her hearers to a flood of gay and merry chatter.
Only a fleeting shadow across her face, or a sudden, pained look in her
eyes when Spring Beach matters were mentioned, revealed to her watchful
father the fact that Patty's gaiety was the result of brave and honest
will-power. But such shadows passed as quickly as they came, and the
girl's pleasant and sweet demeanour was not unappreciated by her elders.
She joined heartily in the plans for the mountain trip; discussed
itineraries with her father, and costumes with Nan.
As the three sat on the veranda, thus engaged, a flying figure came
through the gate like a whirlwind, and Mona Galbraith precipitated
herself into the family group.
"Why, Mona, you look a little,--er,--hasty!" exclaimed Patty as, out of
breath, their visitor plumped herself into a swing and twirled its
tasselled ropes, while she regained her breath.
"Yes,--yes,--and well I may!" she panted. "What DO you think, Patty?
Oh, Mr. Fairfield, DO say yes! Coax him to, won't you, Mrs. Fairfield!
Oh, I can't tell you,--I daren't! I just KNOW you won't do it! Oh,
Patty, do,--DO!"
Impetuous Mona had swayed out of the swing in her eagerness, and was
now kneeling by Patty's side, stroking her hand, and gazing into her
face with imploring eyes.
"Mona Galbraith," said Patty, laughing, "are you rehearsing for
melodrama, or what? For, if so, you don't know your lines, and you're
'way off on your gestures, and--and, as a whole, your act is not
convincing."
"Oh, don't say that, Patty!" exclaimed Mona, laughing herself.
"ANYTHING but that! It must be convincing,--it must,--it MUST!"
"Is it meant for a roaring farce?" asked Mr. Fairfield, politely, "or
merely high comedy?"
"I think it's a problem play," said Nan, laughing anew at the excited
visitor, who had returned to the swing, and was vigorously pushing
herself back and forth with her slippered toe.
"Let me help you, Mona," said Mr. Fairfield, kindly. "Is it something
you have to tell us,--or ask us?"
"Yes, sir, yes! That's it!"
"Well, tell us, then. But take your time and tell us quietly. Then you
won't get incoherent."
The quiet friendliness of his tones seemed to reassure the girl, and
letting the swing stand still, Mona began:
"You see, Mr. Fairfield,--and Mrs. Fairfield, my father is going to
Europe next week. It's on a business trip, and he only just found out
that he had to go. He will take me with him if I want to go, but I
don't! So I proposed a plan to him instead of that, which he thinks is
fine. And,--and, I want to know what you think about it."
"We will probably approve of it, if your father does," said Nan,
helpfully.
"Well--it's just this. For me to stay at home, and keep our house open,
and have Patty stay there with me, instead of her going to the
mountains with you."
"You and Patty stay there alone!" exclaimed Mr. Fairfield.
"No, sir; not alone. Father would ask his sister, my Aunt Adelaide, to
stay with us, as chaperon. She's a lovely lady, and she'd be glad to
come."
"Well, I don't know,--I don't know," said Mr. Fairfield. "I'm not sure
I could go off and leave Patty with strangers."
"But I'm not a stranger," said Mona, "and Aunt Adelaide won't be, as
soon as you know her. I haven't seen her myself for some years, but
she's a lovely, sweet character,--everybody says so. And then, you see,
we wouldn't have to close up our house, and Patty wouldn't have to
leave Spring Beach,--and, oh, we could have lovely times!"
"How long will your father be gone?"
"Two months. August and September. He would rather take me with him,
but he said if you all agreed to my plan, he would do so, too."
"Well, it's a surprise," said Mr. Fairfield, "and we'll have to think
it over, and talk it over. How does it strike you, Patty?"
Patty considered. It was her habit to decide quickly, but this was a
case with several sides to be looked at. Yet, of course, it must be
decided at once, for Mr. Galbraith must have time to make his
preparations.
Patty's heart jumped with joy at the thought of staying at Spring Beach
instead of going to the mountains. But--the joy was a little dampened
at the idea of staying with Mona, and not at "The Pebbles."
"Why can't we both stay here?" she said at last. "Let Mona visit me
here, and let her aunt chaperon us just the same."
"Oh, no," Mona said. "I know father wouldn't consent to that. You see,
it's a great undertaking to close up our big place, and find homes for
the servants, and look after the horses and gardens and all that, just
for two months. Father was relieved at the thought of just walking off
and leaving it all in charge of Aunt Adelaide. And then, we could have
so much more room there, you know--" Mona paused, blushing. She did not
want to imply that "Red Chimneys" was a grandly appointed mansion,
while "The Pebbles" was only a pretty cottage, but that was what she
meant.
"Yes, I know," said Nan, kindly helping her out. "You have such immense
grounds, and luxuries of all sorts. Why, your place is a Pleasure Park
of itself, with the pond and tennis court, and fountains and grottoes
and all such things."
"Yes, it is a lovely summer place," said Mona, earnestly, "and I should
do everything I could to make Patty happy there. I know how much she
wants to stay at Spring Beach, and it seemed such a satisfactory plan
all round."
Patty was still thinking. But, by this time, she was wondering if she
were really a selfish, disagreeable snob or not. For, the truth was,
Patty did not entirely like Mona, though she had grown to like her much
better than at first. Nor did she like Mona's home, with its
ostentatiously expensive appointments, both indoors and out. And yet,
it was exceedingly comfortable and luxurious, and Patty knew she could
do exactly as she chose in every respect.
But, again, Patty was a favourite in Spring Beach society, and Mona was
not. This might cause complications in the matter of invitations to
entertainments. But Patty knew this would mostly redound to Mona's
benefit. She would be asked on Patty's account to places where
otherwise she would not have been invited. And Patty well knew SHE
would be left out of nothing just because she was visiting Mona.
And yet, to accept her hospitality for two months meant to acknowledge
her as an intimate friend,--a chosen companion. Was it quite honest to
do this when, privately, Patty disapproved of many of Mona's ways and
tastes? Then, it occurred to Patty that Mr. Hepworth had urged her to
do what she could to help Mona,--to improve her manners, her dress, her
tastes. Patty jumped at this idea, and then as suddenly paused to
scrutinise her own motives, and make sure she was not pretending to
herself that she did for Mona's sake what she was really doing for her
own. But being quick at decisions, she saw at once that it was about
evenly divided. She was willing, if she could, to help Mona in any way,
and she felt that this justified her in accepting the offered
hospitality of one whom she couldn't emulate.
Mr. Fairfield watched Patty's face closely, and knew pretty well what
sort of a mental controversy she was holding with herself. He was not
surprised when she said at last:
"Well, so far as I have a voice in this matter, I'd like to go. I think
it's very kind of Mona to ask me, and I'd try not to be a troublesome
visitor. You know, Father Fairfield, how much I would rather stay in
Spring Beach than go to the mountains. And I suppose I could take my
motor-car to Mona's with me."
"Yes, of course," Mona said. "And father says if I don't go to Europe,
he'll buy me a runabout just like yours, and we can have lovely times
going out together."
"Would your aunt come at once?" asked Nan, who wanted to know more
about the chaperon who would have Patty in charge.
"Yes, father will send for her as soon as we decide. But you know, Mrs.
Fairfield, I should keep house, as I always do, and Aunt Adelaide would
only be with us in the cause of propriety."
Nan smiled at the thought of Mona's housekeeping, for "Red Chimneys"
was so liberally provided with servants that Mona's duties consisted
mainly in mentioning her favourite dishes to the cook.
"Are you sure you could behave yourself, Patty?" asked her father,
teasingly, "without either Nan or myself to keep you in order?"
"Oh, yes," said Patty, drawing down the corners of her mouth demurely.
"In fact, as I should be on my own responsibility, I'd have to be even
more careful of my manners than I am at home."
Mr. Fairfield sighed a little. "Well, Puss," he said, "I really wanted
you with us on our trip, but as you'd rather stay here, and as this way
seems providentially opened for you, I can only say you may accept
Mona's invitation if you choose."
"Then I DO choose, you dear old Daddy!" cried Patty, making a rush for
her father, and, seating herself on the arm of his chair, she patted
his head, while she told him how glad she was of his consent. "For,"
she said, "I made up my mind not to coax. If you didn't agree readily,
I was going to abide by your wishes, without a murmur."
"Oh, what a goody-girl!" said Mr. Fairfield, laughing. "Now, you see,
Virtue is its own reward."
"And I'm SO glad!" Mona declared, fervently. "Oh, Patty, we'll have
perfectly elegant times! I was so afraid you wouldn't WANT to come to
stay with me."
"Oh, yes, I do," said Patty, "but I warn you I'm a self-willed young
person, and if I insist on having my own way, what are you going to do?"
"Let you have it," said Mona, promptly. "Your way is always better than
mine."
"But suppose you two quarrel," said Mr. Fairfield, "what can you do
then? Patty will have nowhere to go."
"Oh, we won't quarrel," said Mona, confidently. "Patty's too
sweet-tempered,--"
"And you're too amiable," supplemented Nan, who was fond of Mona in
some ways, though not in others. But she, too, thought that Patty would
have a good influence over the motherless girl, and she was honestly
glad that Patty could stay at her beloved seashore for the rest of the
summer.
So it was settled, and Mona went flying home to carry the glad news to
her father, and to begin at once to arrange Patty's rooms.