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Page 2
"I can't see it, Patty," he would say; "there is no chaperon for
you that we know of, and I wouldn't leave you here with some
stranger obtained by advertisement. Nor have we any relatives who
could come to look after you. If Nan's mother could come, that
would do beautifully. But Mrs. Allen is in Europe and none of your
aunts could leave her own family. No, girlie, I can't see any way
to separate our family."
So Patty, with her unfailing good nature, had agreed to go to the
White Mountains with the others. She admitted, herself, that she'd
probably have a good time, as she always did everywhere, but still
her heart clung to "The Pebbles," as they called their seashore
home, and she silently rebelled when she thought of "Camilla," her
swift little electric runabout.
Patty drove her own car, and she never tired of spinning along the
shore roads, or inland through the pine groves and laurel jungles.
She had become acquainted with many young people, both cottagers
and hotel guests, and the outlook for a pleasant summer and fall
at Spring Beach was all that could be desired from her point of
view. But before they left the city in the spring, Patty had known
that Nan preferred mountain localities and had agreed to the
seashore house for her sake; so, now, it was Patty's turn to give
up her preference for Nan's.
And she was going to do it,--oh, yes,--she was going to do it
cheerfully and even gaily. But, though she tried to pretend she
didn't care, Nan knew she did care, and she had tried hard to
think of some way that Patty might be left behind. Nan would
willingly have given up her own desires, and stayed at Spring
Beach all summer, but her husband wouldn't hear of it. Mr.
Fairfield said that justice demanded a fair division of the
season, and already three months had been spent at the seashore,
so August and September must be spent in the mountains.
His word was law, and, too, Patty realised the fairness of the
plan, and gracefully submitted to Fate. So, as the first of August
was in the very near future, Patty and Nan were discussing details
of the trip.
"It almost seems as if you might take your motor-car, Patty," said
Nan, reflectively.
"I thought so, too, at first; but father says not. You see, not
all mountain roads are modern and well-kept, and, of course, we'll
be moving on, now and then, and Camilla IS a nuisance as luggage.
Now, Nan, no more suggestions, or regrets, or backward glances.
I'm going to the mountains, NOT like the quarry-slave at night,
but like a conquering hero; and I shall have all the mountaineers
at my feet, overwhelming me with their devoted attentions."
"You probably will, Patty; you're easily the most popular girl at
Spring Beach, and if the 'mountaineers' have any taste in such
matters--"
"There, there, Nan, don't make me blush. I'm 'popular,' as you
call it, because I have such a delightful home, and such an
attractive stepmother to make it pleasant for my callers! And, by
the same token, here are a few of them coming now."
Two laughing girls, and a good-looking young man came in at the
gate, and strolled along the drive to the veranda, where Patty and
Nan sat.
Lora and Beatrice Sayre were of the "butterfly" type, and their
pale-coloured muslin gowns, broad hats, and fluttering scarfs made
the description appropriate. Jack Pennington was just what he
looked like, a college youth on his vacation; and his earnest face
seemed to betoken a determination to have the most fun possible
before he went back to grind at his books.
"Hello," cried Patty, who was not given to dignified forms of
salutation.
The trio responded gaily, and coming up on the veranda, selected
seats on the wicker chairs, or couches, or the porch railing, as
suited their fancy.
"I say," began young Pennington, conversationally, "we can't let
you go away, Patty. Why, week after next we're going to have the
Pageant, and there are forty-'leven other pleasant doings before
that comes off."
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