EMBROIDERED BLOSSOMS
It was after twelve o'clock when Patty reached home, and she found Nan,
with her wraps on, rather anxiously awaiting her.
"Patty! Wherever have you been all this time?" she cried, as Patty came
in with her big bundle.
"Laying the foundations of my great career; and, oh, Nan, it was pretty
awful! I'm in for it, I can tell you!"
"What a goose you are!" But Nan smiled affectionately at the rosy,
excited face of her stepdaughter.
"Well, I'm going out on a short errand, Patty. I'll be home to luncheon
at one, and then you must tell me all about it."
Patty ran up to her own room, and, flinging off her hat and coat, sat
down to open her bundle of work.
It was appalling. The portion to be embroidered looked larger than it had
done in the shop, and the pattern was one of the most intricate and
elaborate she had ever seen.
"Thank goodness, they're all alike," thought poor Patty. "After I do one,
the others will be easier."
She flew for her embroidery hoops and work-basket, and began at once on
one of the centrepieces.
The pattern was a floral design, tied with bow-knots and interlaced with
a conventional lattice-work. The shading of the blossoms was complicated,
and showed many shades of each colour. The bow-knots were of a solid
colour, but required close, fine stitches of a tedious nature, while the
lattice-work part seemed to present an interminable task.
Patty was a skilful embroiderer, and realised at her first glance that
she had a fearful amount of work before her.
But as yet she was undismayed, and cheerfully started in on the flowers.
She selected the right silks, cut the skeins neatly, and put them in
thread papers.
"For," she thought, "if I allow my silks to get tangled or mixed up, it
will delay me, of course."
At one o'clock, Nan came to her room.
"Didn't you hear the luncheon gong?" she said.
"No," replied Patty, looking up. "Is it one o'clock already?"
"For goodness', gracious' sake, Patty! What _are_ you doing? Is _that_
your 'occupation'?"
"Yes," said Patty, proudly displaying a wild rose, beautifully worked,
and carefully tinted. "Don't I do it nicely?"
"Indeed you do! Your embroidery is always exquisite. But are you going to
work that whole centrepiece?"
"No, only a section,--see, just this much."
Patty indicated the portion she was to work, but she didn't say that she
had thirty-five more, carefully laid away in a box, to do within the
week.
"Well," agreed Nan, "that's not such a terrific task. But will they give
you fifteen dollars for that piece?"
"No," said Patty, smiling a little grimly; "but there are others."
"Oho! A lot of them! A dozen, I suppose. They always give out work by
dozens. Well, girlie, I don't want to be discouraging, but you can't do a
dozen in a week. Come on down to luncheon."
At the table, Patty gave Nan a graphic description of her morning's
experiences.
Though more or less shocked at the whole performance, Nan couldn't help
laughing at Patty's dramatic recital, and the way in which she mimicked
the various people.
"And yet, Nan," she said, "it's really pathetic; they all seemed so busy
and so tired. The woman who gave me the work was like a machine,--as if
she just fed out centrepieces to people who came for them. I'm sure she
hasn't smiled for fourteen years. The only gay one in the place was the
red-headed boy; and he talked such fearful slang it cured me of ever
using it again! Father will be glad of that, anyway. Hereafter I shall
converse in Henry James diction. Why, Nan, he said, 'Pipe de guy wit' de
goggles'!"
"What did he mean?" asked Nan, puzzled.
"Oh, he meant, 'observe the gentleman wearing spectacles.'"
"How did you know?"
"Intuition, I suppose. And then, he pointed to the man in question."
"Patty, you'll get more slangy still, if you go among such people."
"No, I won't. There's no cure like an awful example. Watch the elegance
of my conversation from now on. And besides, Nan, you mustn't act as if I
associated with them socially. I assure you I was quite the haughty lady.
But that slangy boy was an angel unawares. I'd probably be there yet but
for his kindly aid."
"Well, I suppose you'll have to carry this absurd scheme through. And,
Patty, I'll help you in any way I can. Don't you want me to wind silks,
or something?"
"No, ducky stepmother of mine. The only way you can help is to head off
callers. I can do the work if I can keep at it. But if the girls come
bothering round, I'll never get it done. Now, this afternoon, I want to
do a lot, so if any one asks for me, won't you gently but firmly refuse
to let them see me? Make yourself so entertaining that they'll forget my
existence."
"I'll try," said Nan, dubiously; "but if it's Elise or Clementine,
they'll insist on seeing you."
"Let 'em insist. Tell 'em I have a sick headache,--for I feel sure I
shall before the afternoon's over."
"Now, Patty, I won't have that sort of thing! You may work an hour or so,
then you must rest, or go for a drive, or chat with the girls, or
something."
"I will, other days, Nan. But to-day I want to put in the solid afternoon
working, so I'll know how much I can accomplish."
"Have you really a dozen of those things to do, Patty?"
"Yes, I have." Patty didn't dare say she had three dozen. "And if I do
well this afternoon, I can calculate how long the work will take. Oh,
Nan, I do want to succeed. It isn't only the work, you know, it's the
principle. I hate to be baffled; and I _won't_ be!"
A stubborn look came into Patty's pretty eyes,--a look which Nan knew
well. A look which meant that the indomitable will might be broken but
not bent, and that Patty would persevere in her chosen course until she
conquered or was herself defeated.
So, after luncheon, she returned to her task, a little less certain of
success than she had been, but no less persevering.
The work was agreeable to her. She loved to embroider, and the dainty
design and exquisite colouring appealed to her aesthetic sense.
Had it been only one centrepiece, and had she not felt hurried, it would
have been a happy outlook.
But as she carefully matched the shades of silk to the sample piece, she
found that it took a great deal of time to get the tints exactly right.
"But that's only for the first one," she thought hopefully; "for all the
others, I shall know just which silks to use. I'll lay them in order, so
there'll be no doubt about it."
Her habits of method and system stood her in good stead now, and her
skeins, carefully marked, were laid in order on her little work-table.
But though her fingers fairly flew, the pattern progressed slowly. She
even allowed herself to leave long stitches on the wrong side,--a thing
she never did in her own embroidery. She tried to do all the petals of
one tint at once, to avoid delay of changing the silks. She used every
effort to make "her head save her hands," but the result was that both
head and hands became heated and nervous.
"This won't do," she said to herself, as the silk frazzled between her
trembling fingers. "If I get nervous, I'll never accomplish anything!"
She forced herself to be calm, and to move more slowly, but the mental
strain of hurry, and the physical strain of eyes and muscles, made her
jerky, and the stitches began to be less true and correct.
"I'll be sensible," she thought; "I'll take ten minutes off and relax."
She went downstairs, singing, and trying to assume a careless demeanour.
Going into Nan's sitting-room, she said:
"Work's going on finely. I came down for a glass of water, and to rest a
minute. Any one been here?"
"No," said Nan, pleasantly, pretending not to notice Patty's flushed
cheeks and tired eyes. Really, she had several times stolen on tiptoe to
Patty's door, and anxiously looked at her bending over her work. But
Patty didn't know this, and wise Nan concluded the time to speak was not
yet.
"No, no one came in to disturb you, which is fortunate. You're sensible,
dear, to rest a bit. Jane will bring you some water. Polly want a
cracker?"
"No, thank you; I'm not hungry. Nan, that's awfully fine work."
"Yes, I know it, Patsy. But remember, you don't _have_ to do it. Give the
thing a fair trial, and if it doesn't go easily, give it up and try
something else."
"It goes easily enough; it isn't that. But you know yourself, you can't
do really good embroidery if you do it too rapidly."
"'Deed you can't! But you do such wonderfully perfect work, that I should
think you could afford to slight it a little, and still have it better
than other people's."
"Nan, you're such a comfort!" cried Patty, jumping up to embrace her
stepmother. "You always say just the very right thing. Now, I'm going
back to work. I feel all rested now, and I'm sure I can finish a lot
to-day. Why, Nan Fairfield! for goodness' sake! Is it really four
o'clock?"
Patty had just noticed the time, and was aghast! Two solid hours she had
worked, and only a small portion of one piece was done! She hadn't
dreamed the time had flown so, and thought it about three o'clock.
Slightly disheartened at this discovery, she went back to work. At first,
the silks went smoothly enough, then hurry and close application brought
on the fidgets again.
Before five o'clock, she had to turn on the electric lights, and then, to
her dismay, the tints of the silks changed, and she couldn't tell yellow
from pink; or green from gray.
"Well," she thought, "I'll work the bow-knots. They're of one solid
colour, and it's straight sailing."
Straight sailing it was,--but very tedious. An untrue stitch spoiled the
smooth continuance of the embroidery that was to represent tied ribbon
bows. An untrue stitch--and she made several--had to be picked out and
done over, and this often meant frayed silk, or an unsightly needle hole
in the linen.
Long before Patty thought it was time, the dressing-gong for dinner
sounded.
She jumped, greatly surprised at the flight of time, but also relieved,
that now she _must_ lay aside her work. She longed to throw herself down
on her couch and rest, but there was no time for that.
However, after she bathed and dressed, she felt refreshed, and it was a
bright, merry-faced Patty who danced downstairs to greet her father.
If he thought her cheeks unusually pink, or her eyes nervously bright, he
made no allusion to it.
"Well, Puss, how goes the 'occupation'?" he said, patting her shoulder.
"It's progressing, father," she replied, "but if you'd just as leave, we
won't talk about it to-night. I'll tell you all about it, after I finish
it."
"All right, Pattykins; we business people never like to 'talk shop.'"
And then Mr. Fairfield, who had been somewhat enlightened by Nan as to
how matters stood, chatted gaily of other things, and Patty forgot her
troublesome work, and was quite her own gay, saucy self again.
Kenneth dropped in in the evening, to bring a song which he had promised
Patty. They tried it over together, and then Patty said:
"Would you mind, Ken, if I ask you not to stay any longer, to-night? I've
something I want to do, and----"
"Mind? Of course not. I rather fancy we're good enough friends not to
misunderstand each other. If you'll let me come and make up my time some
other night, I'll skip out now, so quick you can't see me fly!"
"All right," said Patty, smiling at his hearty, chummy manner. "I do wish
you would. I'm not often busy, as you know."
"'Course I know it. Good-night, lady, I'm going to leave you now," and
with a hearty handshake and a merry smile, Kenneth went away, and Patty
went to her own room.
"I can work on that bow-knot part, to-night," she said to herself; "and
then to-morrow, I'll get up early and do the rest of the flowers before
breakfast."
Her task had begun to look hopeless, but she was not yet ready to admit
it, and she assured herself that, of course, the others would go much
more rapidly than the first.
She took down her hair and braided it into a long pigtail; then she put
on a comfortable kimono and sat down to work.
She stitched, and she stitched, and she stitched, at the monotonous over
and over bow-knots. Doggedly she kept on, though her shoulders ached, her
eyes smarted, and her fingers trembled.
With a kind of whimsical pathos, she repeated to herself Hood's "Song of
the Shirt," and said, under her breath, "'Stitch, stitch, stitch, till
the cock is crowing aloof,' or whatever it is!"
Then she saw by her watch that it was eleven o'clock.
"I'll just finish this bow," she thought, "and then, I'll stop."
But before the bow was finished, there was a tap at her door.
"Who's there?" said Patty, in a voice which carried no invitation to
enter.
"It's us," said Nan, firmly, if ungrammatically, "and we're coming in!"
Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield entered, and Patty, trying to make the best of it,
looked up and smiled.
"How do you do?" she said. "Take seats, won't you? I'm just amusing
myself, you see."
But the tired voice had a quiver in it, for all at once Patty saw that
she had failed. She had worked hard all the afternoon and evening, and
had not finished one of her thirty-six pieces! It was this discovery that
upset her, rather than the unexpected visit from her parents.
"Girlie, this won't do," began her father, in his kindest tones.
"I know it!" cried Patty, throwing down her work, and flinging herself
into her father's arms. "I can't do it, daddy, I can't! I haven't done
one yet, and I never can do thirty-six!"
"Thirty-six!" exclaimed Nan. "Patty, are you crazy?"
"I think I must have been," said Patty, laughing a little hysterically,
as she took the great pile of centrepieces from a wardrobe, and threw
them into Nan's lap.
"But,--but you said a dozen!" said Nan, bewildered.
"Oh, no, I didn't," returned Patty. "_You_ said, did I bring a dozen, and
I said yes. Also, I brought two dozen more."
"To do in a week!" said Nan, in an awe struck voice.
"Yes, to do in a week!" said Patty, mimicking Nan's tones; and then they
both laughed.
But Mr. Fairfield didn't laugh. His limited knowledge of embroidery made
him ignorant of how much work "three dozen" might mean, but he knew the
effect it had already had on Patty, and he knew it was time to interfere.
"My child----" he began, but Patty interrupted him.
"Don't waste words, daddy, dear," she said. "It's all over. I've tried
and failed; but remember, this is only my first attempt."
The fact that she realised her failure was in a way a relief, for the
strain of effort was over, and she could now see the absurdity of the
task she had undertaken.
She had reached what some one has called "the peace of defeat," and her
spirits reacted as after an escape from peril.
"I must have been crazy, Nan," she said, sitting down beside her on the
couch. "Just think; I've worked about six hours, and I've done about half
of one piece. And I brought thirty-six!"
This statement of the case gave Mr. Fairfield a clearer idea, and he
laughed, too.
"No, Patty; I think I need say nothing more. I see you know when you're
beaten, and I fancy you won't touch needle to that pile of work again! I
hope you can settle matters with your 'employer'; if not, I'll help you
out. But I want to congratulate you on your pluck and perseverance, even
if,--well, even if they were----"
"Crazy," supplemented Patty.