Patty's Pleasure Trip

“Yes, indeed,” said Patty, pleasantly.

“And then a broad-leafed hat, with ribbons from the edge of the brim, tied under my chin,--or, perhaps chiffon ties. Which would you have, Patty?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Patty, in a voice of enthusiasm, but not looking up from her book.

“Oh, Patty, you silly! Now, listen. Look at these plates, and pick out the prettiest hat so I may get it for the garden-party.”

Lady Kitty spread out the sheets of millinery designs, and still absorbed in her reading, Patty lifted her hand and, without looking, pointed a finger at random till it rested on one of the pictured hats.

“That one! Why, Patty, you’re crazy! I couldn’t wear that pudgy little turban,--I want a big sun-hat. Would you have a straw or lace?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Patty, turning a leaf and devouring the next page of her book.

“Angel child! You think you’re teasing me, don’t you? But not so! I love to see you so bent on literary pursuits! Indeed, I don’t think one book at a time is enough for a great brain like yours,--you should have two at once. You go on with yours, and I’ll read another to you.”

Picking up a book from a rustic couch near by, Lady Kitty began to read aloud. Her reading was more dramatic than the text warranted, and besides much elocutionary effect, she gesticulated vigorously, and finally rose, and standing straight in front of Patty, kept on reading and declaiming in ludicrous style.

The two were under a large marquee, on the lawn of Markleham Grange, the country home of Lady Hamilton, and her father, Sir Otho. Patty was comfortably tucked up among the cushions of a lengthy wicker chair, and had elected to spend the morning reading a new story-book of the very kind she liked best. So, partly because she didn’t want to be disturbed, but more for the sake of mischievously teasing her friend, Patty pretended to be oblivious to the hat subject.

But she could not long keep a straight face while Kitty waved her arms and trilled her voice in ridiculous fashion, as she continued to read aloud from the book. Then she would drop into a monotonous drawl, then gallop ahead without emphasis or inflection, and sometimes she would chant the words in dramatic recitative.

Of course, while this went on, Patty couldn’t read her own book, so finding herself beaten at her own game of teasing, she closed the volume, and said quietly:

“I wish you’d let me advise you about that new hat you’re thinking of buying. You always selects such frights.” As Lady Hamilton’s hats were renowned for their beauty and variety, this speech was taken at its worth, and in a moment the two friends were earnestly discussing the respective merits of chiffon, lace, and straw, as protection against the rays of a garden-party sun.

It was the latter part of a lovely morning in the latter part of a lovely August. Patty had drifted through the summer, making and unmaking plans continuously in her efforts to secure the greatest good to the greatest number of her family and friends. She had not joined her parents in Switzerland, as she had thought to do, for invitations to various English country-houses had seemed more attractive, and after a round of such parties, Patty had come to Markleham Grange, for the double purpose of having a few quiet weeks, and of being with her adored friend, Lady Kitty.

The Grange was a typical country home, with all the appurtenances of terraces, gardens, duck-ponds, woodlands, and hunting preserves.

In the great, rambling house guests came and went, and Patty greatly enjoyed the personal freedom that prevailed.

Though occupations and amusements of all sorts were provided, no social obligations were exacted until afternoon tea time. At five, however, everybody assembled on the lawn, or, if rainy, in Sir Otho’s billiard-room, and the host himself accepted the attention and companionship of his guests. Dinner, too, was rather formal, and there was always pleasant entertainment in the evening. But it seemed to Patty that she liked the mornings best. She strolled, often all by herself, through the woods and parks; she chatted with the old gardener about the rare and beautiful flowers; she played with the pet fawns, or idly drifted about the lake in a small rowboat. Sometimes she met Sir Otho on her morning rambles, and for a time they would chat together. The old gentleman had a decided liking for Patty, and though he was an opinionated man, and dictatorial of speech, the girl’s innate tactfulness kept her from rousing his contradictory spirit, and they were most amiable friends. But, perhaps best of all, Patty liked the mornings when boxes of new books arrived from London.

Selecting an interesting story, she would make a bee-line for her favourite reading-place. This was a large tent-like affair, canopied, but without sides, and furnished with wicker chairs, tables, and lounges. Soft rugs covered the ground, and the view was across a small lake, dotted with tiny, flowery islands, to glorious green woodlands beyond.

Here, Patty would read and dream until the all too short morning had flown away, and a servant, or Lady Kitty herself, would come to summon her to luncheon. And it was here that Lady Kitty came, with her sheets of new hat designs, just up from London, when teasing Patty declined to be interested.

But having at last thrown herself into the discussion it proved to be an animated one, and ended by Lady Kitty’s return to the house to send an order for hats for both of them.

Patty remained in her lounging chair, but did not immediately resume her book. Her thoughts flew back to Kitty’s ridiculous antics as she read aloud to tease Patty. Then her gaze wandered out to the lake, and she watched a flock of ducklings, who were enthusiastically paddling along by the side of their more sedate mother. Such funny, blundering, little balls of down they were, and when one of them nearly turned a somersault in its efforts to swim gracefully, Patty laughed aloud at him.

“Do it again!” said a low but commanding voice at her side, and Patty looked round to see a grave-looking young man seated on the arm of a chair.

She had not heard him approach, and she stared at him with a pardonable curiosity. He was garbed in white flannels, with a soft, white, silk shirt and Windsor tie.

Though most correct in manner and bearing, he yet had an informal effect, and his large dark eyes looked almost mournfully at Patty.

“I said, do it again!” he repeated, in a slightly aggrieved tone.

“Do what again?” said Patty, more astonished than offended.

“Make that funny noise,--something like a laugh; was it a laugh?”

“Why, yes; one of my very best ones. Didn’t you like it?”

“I thought it was a chime of fairy bells,” was the reply, so fervently given that Patty laughed again.

The young man solemnly bowed as if in acknowledgment of her kindness.

“Don’t take it so hard,” she said, smiling; “you’ll get over it; you’ll be all right in a moment.”

“I’m all right now, thank you. I get used to things very quickly. And,--by the way,--you don’t mind my talking to you? Without having been properly introduced, I mean.”

“I do mind very much. I think you’re forward and unconventional, and I hate both those traits.”

“You’re so direct! Now, a softer, subtler insinuation would have pleased me better.”

“But I’m not trying to please you!”

“No? You really ought to study to please.” The young man arose and looked at Patty with an air of calm, impersonal criticism. “It would suit your personal appearance so well.”

“Indeed! What is my personal appearance?”

“Ah, direct and curious, both! Well, your beauty is of the sort described in most novels as ‘not a classic face, or even good-featured, but with that indescribable charm’----”

“Indeed! I’ve been told that my features were very good.”

“Ridiculous nonsense! Why, your eyes are too large for your face; your hair is too heavy for your head; and, and, your hands are too little for anything!”