CHAPTER V
A SUMMER HOME
“If I were sure Patty would get her motor car,” said Nan, “I’d vote forthe seashore. But, if she doesn’t, I’d rather go to the mountains.”
“’Course I’ll get it,” declared Patty. “I’m sure, certain, positive,convinced, satisfied beyond all shadow of doubt that I’ve cinched thatcar! It only remains to get the formal notice.”
“And to get the car,” added her father.
They were discussing, in family conclave, their plans for the comingsummer.
Patty liked the seashore, and Nan, the mountains, but each wanted theother to be pleased, so there was a generous rivalry going on.
“But I can use it in the mountains,” went on Patty; “mountain roads arepretty much civilised nowadays. And, anyway, it’s sure to be a perfecthill-climber.”
“Oh, _sure_ to be!” said Mr. Fairfield, who never could bring himself tobelieve seriously that Patty would get the car.
“Well, let’s divide the time,” suggested Nan. “Let’s go to the seashorefirst, and spend, say, May, June, and July. Then go to the mountains forAugust and September.”
“That would be lovely!” declared Patty, enthusiastically, “if I didn’tknow you were planning it that way for my benefit. And I can’t—no, Ican_not_ bring myself to accept such a sackerry-fice!”
“You can’t help yourself, you mean,” said Nan. “And, now that part ofit’s settled, where shall we go?”
“I like the New Jersey shore,” said Mr. Fairfield, “because I can run upto New York so easily from there. But I was thinking of buying a house,so we could go to it each summer, and so do away with this yearlydiscussion of where to go. Even if we have a summer home, we can go on atrip to the mountains as well, later in the season.”
“That’s so,” agreed Nan. “No one wants to go to the mountains beforeAugust.”
“Oh, won’t it be gay!” cried Patty. “A home of our own, at the seashore!With little white curtains blowing out of its windows, and box trees atthe entrance to the drive!”
“That sounds attractive,” agreed Nan. “And wide verandas all round, andthe ocean dashing over them, sometimes.”
“It wouldn’t be a bad investment,” said Mr. Fairfield. “We wouldn’tbuild, you know, but buy a house, and then fix it up to suit ourselves.And, whenever we tired of it, we could sell it.”
“Good business, Mr. Fairfield,” said Patty, nodding her head at himapprovingly. “Now, I know the spot I’d like best. And that’s at SpringBeach. It’s the prettiest part of the whole Jersey coast.”
“I think so, too,” said Nan. “It’s not a large enough place to berackety and noisy, but it has beautiful homes and charming people. I’vebeen there several times, though not to stay long.”
“Be sure to buy a house with a garage, father,” put in Patty. “For Imust have a place to keep my car.”
“Well, as we’ll have our own car there, I fancy we’ll have a garage,Puss. But we may have to add an ell, to accommodate your toy wagon. Whendo you expect to get it, by the way?”
“The winner will be announced on the twentieth of April, and the cardelivered about May first. So I’ll take you both for a May-day ride. Notboth at once, of course.”
“You’ll take Miller on your first few rides, my girl; until you’vethoroughly learned how to manage the thing.”
“All right, I will. For I don’t want to make any stupid mistakes throughignorance. Accidents may happen, but, if so, I expect to be able to usemy skill and knowledge to repair them.”
“Patty, you have a sublime self-confidence,” said her father, laughing;“but I’m glad of it. For it will probably carry you through when yourvaunted skill and knowledge give out.”
A few nights later, Mr. Fairfield came home with several photographs ofSpring Beach houses that were for sale. Each was accompanied with adescription, and the Fairfield trio looked them over with greatinterest. Two seemed more desirable than the rest, and it was decidedthat, next day, they should all go down to the shore to look at them.
“Let’s take Christine,” suggested Patty; “a day at the seashore will doher good.”
So, next morning, the quartette started for Spring Beach.
Christine had never seen the ocean before, and Patty greatly enjoyedseeing the Southern girl’s delight.
It was a fine April day, the air clear and cool, and the blue skycloudless, save for some cotton-wool masses near the horizon. The waveswere deep, translucent blue, with brilliantly white crests, and theyrolled and tumbled in to shore, as if anxious to greet Christine.
“Is it like you thought it would be?” asked Patty, as Christine stood,with clasped hands, gazing.
“Yes; in its lines. For, of course, I’ve seen pictures of it. But Ididn’t know it was so _alive_.”
“Yes,” said Patty, with a nod of comprehension, “that’s the way it seemsto me. Really alive, and always responsive to my moods and thoughts.”
“I didn’t know you had moods and thoughts,” said Christine, smiling atPatty a little quizzically.
“’Deed I have! Perhaps not such subtle and temperamental ones as yoursor Mr. Hepworth’s, but perfectly good moods and thoughts, all the same.”
“Why do you class mine with Mr. Hepworth’s?”
“Because you’re both artists. Aren’t artists supposed to have mostimpressive and unspeakable thoughts at sight of the ocean or the moon orthe purple shadows on the distant hills?”
“Patty, I suppose you’re making fun of me, but I don’t mind a bit. And,of one thing I’m sure, whatever your thoughts may be, they’re neverunspeakable!”
“Right you are, Christine! I’m glad you appreciate my talent forvolubility! That’s why I like the sea. I can talk to it all day, and itis most appreciative, but it never talks back.”
“Oh, it talks back to me! It has told me lots of things already.”
“That’s because you’re an artist. But this must be the new house!Father’s turning in here. Oh, isn’t it lovely!”
It was a most beautiful place, though its somewhat dense shrubberypartly hid the view of the ocean.
But the house was delightful. Large, roomy, and well-built, it seemedall any one could desire for a summer home.
They went through it, with many comments, and then went on a blockfarther, to look at the other one they had in mind.
This was equally desirable, in every way, as a dwelling, but the largegrounds had very few trees or tall shrubs, so that the sea-view wasunobstructed.
“This is my choose!” declared Patty, sitting down on the steps of thefront veranda. “What’s the use of coming to the seashore and living in aforest? Oh, my fond parents, do decide to take this one, for your littlePatty’s sake!”
“Will there be shade enough?” asked Mr. Fairfield.
“Yes, indeed!” declared Patty. “If not, we can go inside and draw thecurtains. But I do love a house where you can see out. And I think thisis the finest ocean view on the beach.”
“It is,” corroborated the agent, who was showing them the house. “Andthe sunrise view is grand.”
“I don’t often see the sun rise,” admitted Patty, laughing; “but perhapsI shall, down here, for I’m going to sleep out of doors.”
“In your motor car?” enquired her father.
“No, sir! I’m going to have a veranda bedroom. There, you see it,between those two front towers. I’ve always wanted to try that sort of afresh-air fund scheme.”
“Well, whatever you and Nan decide on, I’ll agree to,” said Mr.Fairfield, who lived but to please his wife and daughter.
So, after some further serious consideration of rooms and outlooks, Nanand Patty agreed that the second house they had visited was the one forthem, and Christine commended their choice.
“It’s rather large for just us three,” said Nan, but Patty replied:“Never mind, we’ll have lots of company. I expect to have house partiesa great de
al of the time; we’ve never had room for much company in NewYork. What shall we name the place?”
“‘Sea View,’” said her father, and Patty laughed.
“Yes,” she said; “or ‘Ocean View,’ or ‘Fair View,’ or ‘Beach View’! No,let’s get something descriptive and unhackneyed. Help us, Christine.”
“I like a name like ‘The Breakers,’” said Nan. “It’s so dignified.”
“How about ‘The Pebbles’?” asked Christine, looking at the pebbled walksthat led through the lawn.
“That’s just right!” said Patty, “and it’s seashorey, too. We’ll callthe place ‘The Pebbles’; shall us, Nan?”
“Yes; I like that. It’s simple and yet expressive.”
“And now,” said Mr. Fairfield, “let us go over to the hotel forluncheon, and then, while I have a little business talk with the agent,you ladies can rave over the sea, the sea, the open sea.”
“What good times you do have, don’t you, Patty?” said Christine, as theystrolled along the board walk to the hotel.
“Yes, Christine, I do. And I often feel as if I didn’t deserve so muchhappiness; and perhaps it’s wrong for me to have so much, when manyother girls have so little.”
“No, Patty; that isn’t the way to look at it. You ought to be glad andthankful, but never feel any doubt about its being all right. Myself, Ihave so much to be thankful for, sometimes my heart almost bursts withgratitude. But I know it’s all right, and that I _ought_ to have it.Whatever is, is right, Patty.”
“Yes; I s’pose so. But, Christine, what do you mean, about yourself? Areyou glad you have to earn your own living?”
“Oh, that’s merely incidental. Since I have to earn my own living, I’mglad I can, of course. Or, at least, I shall soon be able to. But Imean, I’m so glad that I have such talent as I have, and such a love ofmy life work, and such dear friends, and such a happy outlookgenerally.”
“Christine, you’re a darling. I don’t believe many people know how fineand lovely you are. Do they?”
“I don’t know many people,” said Christine, smiling; “but those I doknow don’t all share your views. Elise doesn’t.”
“Bother Elise! Don’t let her bother you! Why think of her at all?Christine, if your philosophy of happiness is any good, it ought toteach you to cut out anything unpleasant. And, if Elise is unpleasant,cut her out.”
“No, girlie; not that. If Elise is unpleasant,—and it may be only myimagination,—I shall try to make her become pleasant.”
“I wish you joy of your task,” said Patty, grinning, for she knew Elisebetter than Christine did, and, while she liked her herself, she feltsure her two friends could never be very congenial.
The well-selected and well-served luncheon proved most acceptable toappetites sharpened by sea air, and, during its course, enthusiasticplans were made for improving and furnishing “The Pebbles.”
“Christine will help us with the ‘artistic values,’—I think that’s whatyou call ’em,” said Patty. “Nan can look after chairs and tables andsuch prosaic things; and I’ll sew the curtains and sofa-cushions. I loveto make soft, silky, frilly things,—and I’m just going to have fun withthis house.”
“What’s my part in this universal plan?” asked Mr. Fairfield.
“Oh, you can just pay the bills, and say ‘perfectly lovely, my dear,’whenever we ask you how you like anything!”
As this was just the rôle Mr. Fairfield had laid out for himself, heacquiesced graciously, and then, luncheon being over, they all went backto the house again.
“We’ll have to come down several times,” said Nan, “but we may as wellmeasure for some of the hangings and rugs now.”
So Mr. Fairfield filled many pages of his memorandum book with notes andmeasurements, and, after an hour or so, they all felt they had madequite a beginning on the furnishing of the new house.
One delightful room, with a full sea view, Patty declared wasChristine’s room, and she was to occupy it just whenever she chose, andshe was to select its furnishings herself. The girl’s eyes filled withtears at this new proof of loving friendship, and, though she knew sheshould take but few vacation days from her work that summer, yet shewillingly consented to select the fittings, on condition that it be usedas a guest room when she was not present.
Patty’s own rooms were delightful. A bedroom and dressing-room, openingon a half-enclosed balcony, gave her the opportunity for sleeping out ofdoors that she so much desired. Her father insisted that she should havewhat he called a “civilised bedchamber,” and then, if she chose to playgipsy occasionally, she might do so.
So she and Christine planned all her furniture and decorations, and madenotes and lists, and, before they knew it, it was time to return to NewYork.
“You know a lot about house decoration, Christine; don’t you?” saidPatty, as they sat in the homeward-bound train.
“No, not a lot. But it comes natural to me to know what things harmonisein a household. Of course, I’ve never studied it,—it’s a science; now,you know. But, if I didn’t want to take up illustrating seriously, Iwould try decorating.”
“Oh, illustrating is lots nicer,—and it pays better, too.”
“I don’t know about that. But Mr. Hepworth says I will make a name formyself as an illustrator, and so I know I shall.”
Patty laughed. “You have as much faith in that man as I have,” she said.
“Yes; I’ve implicit faith in his judgment, and in his technicalknowledge.”
“Well, I’ve faith in him in every way. I think he’s a fine character.”
“You ought to think so, Patty. Why, he worships the ground you walk on.”
“Oh, Christine, what nonsense!” Patty blushed rosy-red, but tried tolaugh it off. “Why, he’s old enough to be my father.”
“No, he isn’t. He’s thirty-five,—that’s a lot older than you,—but, allthe same, he adores you.”
“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that, Christine,” said Patty, with a newnote of hauteur in her voice. “Mr. Hepworth is my very good friend, andI look up to him in every way, but there is no affection or any suchfoolishness between us.”
“Not on your side, perhaps; but there is on his.”
“Well, if you think so, I don’t want to hear about it. When you talklike that, it just goes to spoil the nice pleasant friendship that Mr.Hepworth and I have had for years.”
“It isn’t the same as you have for Roger Farrington and Kenneth Harper.”
“It is! Just the same. Except that Mr. Hepworth is so much older that Inever call him by his first name. The others were my school chums. Lookhere, Christine, we’re going to be very good friends, you and I,—but,if you talk to me like that about Mr. Hepworth, you’ll queer ourfriendship at its very beginning. Now, quit it,—will you?”
“Yes, I will, Patty. And I didn’t mean any harm. I only wanted you toknow Mr. Hepworth’s attitude toward you.”
“Well, when I want to know it, I’ll discover it for myself, or let himtell me. You must know, Christine, that I’m not bothering about suchthings. I don’t want affection, as you call it, from any man. I like myboy friends, or my men friends, but there’s no sentiment orsentimentality between me and any one of them? Are you on?”
“On what?” asked Christine, a little bewildered at Patty’s emphaticspeech.
“On deck,” said Patty, laughing at Christine’s blank expression andchanging the subject with promptness and dexterity.