CHAPTER XXIII
AMBITIONS
"There!" said Kenneth, after the dance was over, "you look more like yourold self now."
"I haven't lost any hairpins, have I?" said Patty, putting up her handsto her fluffy topknot.
"No, but you've lost that absurd dressed-up look."
"I'm getting used to my new frock. Don't you like it?"
"Yes, of course I do. I like everything you wear, because I like you. Infact, I think I like you better than any girl I ever saw."
Kenneth said this in such a frank, boyish way that he seemed to beannouncing a mere casual preference for some matter-of-fact thing.
At least it seemed so to Patty, and she answered carelessly:
"You _think_ you do! I'd like you to be sure of it, sir."
"I am sure of it," said Ken, and then, a little more diffidently: "Do youlike me best?"
"Why, yes, of course I do," said Patty, smiling, "that is, after papa andAunt Alice and Marian and Uncle Charley and Frank and Mancy andPansy--and Mr. Hepworth."
Patty might not have added the last name if she had not just then seenthat gentleman coming toward her.
He looked at Patty with an especial kindliness in his eyes, andsaid gently:
"Miss Fairfield, may I see your card?"
Patty flushed a little and her eyes fell.
"Please don't talk like that," she said. "I'm not grown up, if I amdressed up. I'm only Patty, and if you call me anything else I'llrun away."
"Don't run away," said Mr. Hepworth, still looking at her with that gravekindliness that seemed to have about it a touch of sadness. "I will callyou Patty as long as you will stay with me."
Then Patty smiled again, quite her own merry little self, and gave himher card, saying:
"Put your name down a lot of times, please; you are a beautiful dancer,and I like best to dance with the people I know best."
"I wish I had a rubber stamp," said Mr. Hepworth; "it's very fatiguing towrite one's name on every line."
"Oh, good gracious!" cried Patty, "don't take them all. I want to save alot for Frank and Ken--"
"And your father," said Mr. Hepworth.
"Papa? He doesn't dance--at least, I never saw him."
"But he did dance that last waltz, with Miss Allen."
"With Nan? Well, then, I rather think he can dance with his owndaughter. Don't take any more; I want all the rest for him, and pleasetake me to him."
"Here he comes now. Mr. Fairfield, your daughter wishes a word with you."
"Papa Fairfield!" exclaimed Patty, "you never told me you could dance!"
"You never asked me; you took it for granted that I was too old to friskaround the ballroom."
"And aren't you?" asked Patty teasingly.
"Try me and see," said her father, as he took her card.
The trial proved very satisfactory, and Patty declared that she must haveinherited her own taste for dancing from her father.
The evening passed all too swiftly. Pretty Patty, with her merry ways andgraceful manners, was a real belle, and Aunt Alice was besieged byrequests for introductions to her niece and daughter. But Marian, thougha sweet and charming girl, had a certain shyness which always kept herfrom becoming an immediate favourite. Patty's absolute lack ofself-consciousness and her ready friendliness made her popular at once.
Mr. Fairfield and Nan Allen were speaking of this, as they stood out onthe veranda and looked at Patty through the window.
"She's the most perfect combination," Miss Allen was saying, "of thechild and the girl. She has none of the silly affectations ofyoung-ladyhood, and yet she has in her nature all the elements that go tomake a wise and sensible woman."
"I think you're right," said Mr. Fairfield, as he looked fondly at hisdaughter. "She is growing up just as I want her to, and developing thetraits I most want her to possess. A frank simplicity of manner, a happy,fun-loving disposition, and a gentle, unselfish soul."
Meantime Patty and Mr. Hepworth were sitting on the stairs.
"Now my cup of happiness is full," remarked Patty. "I have always thoughtit must be perfect bliss to sit on the stairs at a party. I don't knowwhy, I'm sure, but all the information I have gathered from art andliterature have led me to consider it the height of earthly joy."
"And is it proving all your fancy painted it?" asked Mr. Hepworth, whowas sitting a step below.
"Yes--that is, it's almost perfect."
"And what is the lacking element?"
"Oh, I wouldn't like to tell you," said Patty, and Mr. Hepworth was notquite certain whether her confusion were real or simulated.
"May I guess?" he asked.
"Yes, if you'll promise not to guess true," said Patty. "If you did, Ishould be overcome with blushing embarrassment."
"But I am going to guess, and if I guess true I will promise to go andbring you the element that will complete your happiness."
"That sounds so tempting," said Patty, "that now I hope you _will_ guesstrue. What is the missing joy?"
"Kenneth Harper," said Mr. Hepworth, looking at Patty curiously.
Without a trace of a blush Patty broke into gay laughter.
"Oh, you are ridiculous!" she said. "I have _you_ here, why should Iwant him?"
"Then what is it you do want?" and Mr. Hepworth looked away as he evadedher question.
"Since you make me confess my very prosaic desires, I'll own up that I'dlike a strawberry ice."
"Well, that's just what I'm dying for myself," said Mr. Hepworth gaily;"and if you'll reserve this orchestra chair for me, I'll go and foragefor it. It looks almost impossible to get through that crowd, but I'llreturn either with my shield or on it. Unless you'd rather I'd sendHarper back with the ice?"
"Do just as you please," said Patty, with a sudden touch of coquetry inher smiling eyes; "it doesn't matter a bit to me."
But though a willing messenger, Mr. Hepworth found it impossible toaccomplish his errand with any degree of rapidity, and when hereturned, successful but tardy, he found young Harper waiting where hehad left Patty.
"She's gone off to dance with Frank Elliott," explained the boycheerfully, "and she said you and I could divide the ices between us."
"All right," said the artist; "here's your share."
The next morning Patty, Nan, and Marian went down to the beach for aquiet chat.
"Let's shake everybody," said Patty, "and just go off by ourselves. I'mtired of a lot of people."
"You're becoming such a belle, Patty," said Nan, "that I'm afraid you'llbe bothered with a lot of people the rest of your life."
"No, I won't," said Patty. "Lots of people are all very well when youwant them, but I'm going to cultivate a talent for getting rid of themwhen you don't want them."
"Can you cultivate a talent, if you have only a taste to start with?"said Marian, with more seriousness than Patty's careless remark seemedto call for.
"If you have the least little scrap of a mustard-seed of taste, andplenty of will-power, you can cultivate all the talents you want,"said Patty, with the air of an oracle, "Why, what do you want to donow, Marian?"
Marian's ambitions were a good deal of a joke in the Elliott family. Atone time she had determined to become a musician, and had spent,unsuccessfully, many hours and much money in her endeavours, but at lastshe was obliged to admit that her talents did not lie in thatdirection. Later on she had tried painting, and notwithstandingdiscouraging results, she had felt sure of her artistic ability for along time, until at last she had proved to her own satisfaction that shewas not meant to make pictures; and now, when she asked the abovequestion in a serious tone, Patty felt sure that some new scheme wasfermenting in her cousin's brain.
"What's up, Marian?" she said. "Out with it, and we'll promise to helpyou, if it's only by wise discouragement."
"I think," said Marian, unmoved by her cousin's attitude, "I think Ishould like to be an author."
"Do," said Patty; "that's the best line you've struck yet, because it'sthe cheap
est. You see, Nan, when Marian goes in for painting andsculpture and music, her whims cost Uncle Charley fabulous sums of money.But this new scheme is great! The outlay for a fountain pen and a fewsheets of stamps can't be so very much, and the scheme will keep you outof other mischief all winter."
"It does sound attractive," said Nan. "Tell us more about it. Are yougoing to write books or stories?"
"Books," said Marian calmly.
"Lovely!" cried Patty. "Do two at once, won't you? So you can dedicateone to Nan and one to me at the same time; I won't share my dedicationwith anybody."
"You can laugh all you like," said Marian; "I don't mind a speck, for I'msure I can do it; I've been talking to Miss Fischer, she's written lotsof books, you know, and stories, too, and she says it's awfully easy ifyou have a taste for it."
"Of course it is," said Patty; "that's just what I told you. If you havea taste--good taste, you know--and plenty of will-power and stamps, youcan write anything you want to; and I believe you'll do it. Go in andwin, Marian! You can put me in your book, if you want to."
"Willpower isn't everything, Patty," said Nan, whose face had assumed acurious and somewhat wistful look; "at least, it may be in literature,but it won't do all I want it to."
"What do you want, girlie?" said Patty. "I never knew you had anungratified ambition gnawing at your heart-strings."
"Well, I have; I want to be a singer."
"You do sing beautifully," said Marian. "I've heard you."
"Yes, but I mean a great singer."
"On the stage?" inquired Patty.
"Yes, or in concerts; I don't care where, but I mean to sing wonderfully;to sing as I feel I could sing, if I had the opportunity."
"You mean a musical education and foreign study and all those things?"said Patty.
"Yes," said Nan.
"But after all that you might fail," said Marian, remembering her ownexperiences.
"Yes, I might, and probably I should. It's only a dream, you know, but wewere talking about ambitions, and that's mine."
"And can't you accomplish it?"
"I don't see how I can; my parents are very much opposed to it. They hateanything like a public career, and they think I sing quite well enoughnow without further instructions."
"I think so, too," said Patty. "I'd rather hear you sing those quaintlittle songs of yours than to hear the most elaborate trills and frillsthat any prima donna ever accomplished."
"Your opinion is worth a great deal to me, Patty, as a friend, buttechnically, I can't value it so highly."
"Of course, I don't know much about music," said Patty, quite unabashed;"but papa thinks so too. He said your voice is the sweetest voice heever heard."
"Did he?" said Nan.
"What is your ambition, Patty?" said Marian, after a moment's pause. "Nanand I have expressed ourselves so frankly you might tell us yours."
"My ambition?" said Patty. "Why, I never thought of it before, but Idon't believe I have any. I feel rather ashamed, for I suppose everyproperly equipped young woman ought to have at least one ambition, and Idon't seem to have a shadow of one. Really great ones, I mean. Of course,I can sing a little; not much, but it seems to be enough for me. And Ican play a little on the piano and on the banjo, and I suppose it'sshocking; but really I don't care to play any better than I do. I can'tpaint, and I can't write stories, but I don't want to do either."
"You can keep house," said Marian.
Patty's eyes lighted up.
"Yes," she said; "isn't it ridiculous? But I do really believe that's myambition. To keep house just perfectly, you know, and have everything gonot only smoothly but happily."
"You ought to have been a _chatelaine_ of the fourteenth century," saidNan.
"Yes," said Patty eagerly; "that's just my ambition. What a pity it'slooking backward instead of forward. But I would love to live in a greatstone castle, all my own, with a moat and drawbridge and outriders, andgo around in a damask gown with a pointed bodice and big puffy sleevesand a ruff and a little cap with pearls on it, and a bunch of keysjingling at my side."
"They usually carry the keys in a basket," observed Marian; "and youforgot to mention the falcon on your wrist."
"So I did," said Patty, "but I think the falcon would be a regularnuisance while I was housekeeping, so I'd put him in the basket, and setit up on the mantelpiece, and keep my keys jingling from my belt."
"Well, it seems," said Nan, "that Patty has more hopes of realising herambition than either of us."
"Speak for yourself," said Marian.
"I think I have," said Patty. "I have all the keys I want, and I'm quitesure papa would buy me a falcon if I asked him to."
CHAPTER XXIV
AN AFTERNOON DRIVE
The next Saturday Mr. Fairfield proposed that they all go for a driveto Allaire.
"What's Allaire?" said Patty.
"It's a deserted village," replied her father. "The houses are empty, theold mill is silent, the streets are overgrown; in fact, it's nothing buta picturesque ruin of a once busy hamlet."
"They say it's a lovely drive," said Nan. "I've always wanted togo there."
"The boys will be down by noon," said Mr. Elliott, "and we can get offsoon after luncheon. Do you suppose, Fred, we can get conveyances enoughfor our large and flourishing family?"
"We can try," said Mr. Fairfield. "I'll go over to the stables now andsee what I can secure."
On his return he found that Hepworth, Kenneth, and Frank had arrived.
"Well, Saturday's children," he said, "I'm glad to see you. I alwaysknow it's the last day of the week when this illustrious trio burstsupon my vision."
"We're awfully glad to burst," said Frank; "and we hope your vision canstand it."
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Fairfield; "the sight of you is good for the eyes.And now I'll tell you the plans for the afternoon."
"What luck did you have with the carriages, papa?" asked impatient Patty.
"That's what I'm about to tell you, my child, if you'll give me half achance. I secured four safe, and more or less commodious, vehicles."
"Four!" exclaimed Marian. "We'll be a regular parade."
"Shall we have a band?" asked Nan.
"Of course," said Kenneth; "and a fife-and-drum corps besides."
"You won't need that," said Patty, "for there'll be no 'Girl I LeftBehind Me.' We're all going."
"Of course we're all going," said Mr. Fair-field; "and as we shallhave one extra seat, you can invite some girl who otherwise would beleft behind."
"If Frank doesn't mind," said Patty, with a mischievous glance at hercousin, "I'd like to ask Miss Kitty Nelson."
They all laughed, for Frank's admiration for the charming Kitty was anopen secret.
Frank blushed a little, but he held his own and said:
"Are they all double carriages, Uncle Fred?"
"No, my boy; there are two traps and two victorias."
"All right, then, I'll take one of the traps and drive Miss Nelson."
"Bravo, boy! if you don't see what you want, ask for it. Miss Allen, willyou trust yourself to me in the other trap?"
"With great pleasure, Mr. Fairfield," replied Nan; "and pleaseappreciate my amiability, for I think they're most jolty anduncomfortable things to ride in."
"I speak for a seat in one of the victorias," said Aunt Alice; "and Ithink it wise to get my claim in quickly, as the bids are being madeso rapidly."
"I don't care how I go," said Patty, "or what I go in. I'm so amiable, achild can play with me to-day. I'll go in a wheelbarrow, if necessary."
"I had hoped to drive you over myself," said Mr. Hepworth, who sat nextto her, speaking in a low tone; "but I'll push you in a wheelbarrow, ifyou prefer."
"You go with me, Patty, in one of the traps, won't you?" said Kenneth,who sat on the veranda railing at her other side.
Patty's face took on a comical smile of amusement at these two requests,but she answered both at once by merrily saying:
"Then it a
ll adjusts itself. Mr. and Mrs. Allen and Mr. and Mrs. Elliottshall have the most comfortable carriage, and Marian and Mr. Hepworth andKen and I will go in the other."
That seemed to be the, best possible arrangement, and about threeo'clock the procession started.
Patty and Marian took the back seat of the open carriage, Mr. Hepworthand Kenneth Harper sat facing them.
As Marian had already become very much interested in her new fad ofauthorship, and as under Miss Fischer's tuition she was rapidlydeveloping into a real little blue-stocking, it is not strange that theconversation turned in that direction.
"I looked in all the bookshops in the city for your latest works, MissMarian," said Mr. Hepworth, "but they must have been all sold out, for Icouldn't find any."
"Too bad," said Marian. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait until a newedition is printed."
"You're not to tease Marian," said Patty reprovingly. "She's been aspatient as an angel under a perfect storm of chaff, and I'm not going toallow any more of it."
"I don't mind," said Marian. "I think, if one is really in earnest, oneoughtn't to be annoyed by good-natured fun."
"Quite right," said Kenneth; "and ambition, if it's worth anything,ought to rise above comment of any sort."
"It ought to be strengthened by comment of any sort," said Mr. Hepworth.
"Of any sort?" asked Marian thoughtfully.
"Yes, for comment always implies recognition, and that in itself meansprogress."
"Have you an ambition, Mr. Hepworth?" said Patty suddenly. "But you havealready achieved yours. You are a successful artist."
"A man may have more than one ambition," said Mr. Hepworth slowly, "and Ihave _not_ achieved my dearest one."
"I suppose you want to paint even better than you do," said Patty.
"Yes," said the artist, smiling a little, "I hope I shall always want topaint better than I do. What's your ambition, Harper?"
"To build bridges," said Kenneth. "I'm going to be a civil engineer, butmy ambition is to be a bridge-builder. And I'll get there yet," he added,with a determined nod of his head.
"I think you will," said Mr. Hepworth, "and I'm sure I hope so."
Then the talk turned to lighter themes than ambition, and merry laughterand jest filled up the miles to Allaire.
All were delighted with the place. Aside from the picturesque ruinedbuildings and the eerie mysterious-looking old mill, there was a novelinterest in the strange silent air of desertion that seemed to invest theplace with an almost palpable loneliness.
"I don't like it," said Patty. "Come on, let's go home."
But to Marian's more romantic imagination it all seemed most attractive,so different was her temperament from that of her sunshiny,merry-hearted cousin.
At last they did go home, and Patty chattered gaily all the way inorder, as she said, to drive away the musty recollections of thatforlorn old place.
"How did you like it, Nan?" she asked, when they were all back atthe hotel.
"I thought it beautiful," said Nan, smiling.
That evening there was a small informal dance in the parlours. Not alarge hop, like the one given the week before, but Patty declared thesmall affair was just as much fun as the other.
"I always have all the fun I can possibly hold, anyway," she said; "andwhat more can anybody have?"
Toward the close of the evening Mr. Fairfield came up to Patty, whowas sitting, with a crowd of merry young people, in a cosey corner ofthe veranda.
"Patty," he said, "don't you want to come for a little stroll on theboard walk?"
"Yes, of course I do," said Patty, wondering a little, but always readyto go with her father. "Is Nan going?"
"No, I just want you," said Mr. Fairfield.
"All right," said Patty, "I'm glad to go."
They joined the crowd of promenaders on the board walk, and as theypassed Patty's favourite bit of beach she said:
"That's where we girls sit and talk about our ambitions."
"Yes, so I've heard," said Mr. Fairfield. "And what are yourambitions, baby?"
"Oh, mine aren't half so grand and gorgeous as the other girls'. Theywant to do great things, like singing in grand opera and writing immortalbooks and things like that."
"And your modest ambition is to be a good housekeeper, isn't it?"
"Well, yes, papa; but not only that. I was thinking about it afterward bymyself, and I think that the housekeeping is the practical part ofit--and that's a good big part too--but what I really want to be is alovely, good, _womanly_ woman, like Aunt Alice, you know. I don't believeshe ever wanted to write books or paint pictures."
"No she never did," said Mr. Fairfield, "and I quite agree with you thather ambitions are just as high and noble as those others you mentioned."
"Well, I'm glad you think so, papa, for I was afraid I might seem to youvery small and petty to have all my ambitions bounded by the four wallsof my own home."
"No, Patty, girl, I think those are far better than unbounded ambitions,far more easily realised, and will bring you greater and betterhappiness. But don't you see, my child, that the very fact of your havinga talent--which you certainly have--for housekeeping and home-making,implies that some day, in the far future, I hope, you will go away fromme and make a home of your own?"
"Very likely I shall, papa; but that's so far in the future that it's notworth while bothering about it now."
"But I'm going to bother about it now to a certain extent. Do yourealise that when this does come to pass, be it ever so far hence, thatyou're going to leave your poor old father all alone, and that, too,after I have so carefully brought you up for the express purpose ofmaking a home for me?"
"Well, what are you going to do about it?" said Patty, who was by nomeans taking her father's remarks seriously.
"Do? Why, I'm going to do just this. I'm going to get somebody else tokeep my house for me, and I'm going to get her now, so that I'll haveher ready against the time you leave me."
Patty turned, and by the light of an electric lamp which they werepassing, saw the smile on her father's face, and with a sudden intuitionshe exclaimed:
"Nan!"
"Yes," replied her father, "Nan. How do you like it?"
"Like it?" exclaimed Patty. "I _love_ it! I think it's perfectlygorgeous! I'm just as delighted as I can be! How does Nan like it?"
"She seems delighted too," said Mr. Fairfield, smiling.
THE END
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