Patty Blossom

by Carolyn Wells

  E-text prepared by Al Haines

  PATTY BLOSSOM

  by

  CAROLYN WELLS

  Author ofThe Patty Books, The Marjorie Books,Two Little Women Series, etc.

  New YorkDodd, Mead and Company1927

  Copyright, 1917by Dodd, Mead and Company, Inc.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I SAM BLANEY II A STUDIO PARTY III PHILIP OBJECTS IV PATTY STAYS LATE V AT RED CHIMNEYS VI A SOCIETY CIRCUS VII A CLEVER PLAN VIII A REAL POEM IX A SHOWER X MONA'S WEDDING XI THE CITY STUDIO XII AN ODD DINNER PARTY XIII ELISE AND PATTY XIV PATTY'S DANCE XV THE CHRISTMAS PARTY XVI A STOLEN POEM XVII PATTY'S DECISION XVIII THE HOUSE SALE XIX PATTY RUNAWAY XX BLOSSOM GIRL

  Patty Blossom

  CHAPTER I

  SAM BLANEY

  "Patty, Patty, pit-a-pat, Grinning like a Chessy Cat,

  if you don't stop looking so everlasting cheerful, I'll throw somethingat you!"

  "Throw," returned Patty, as her grin perceptibly and purposely widenedto the full extent of her scarlet lips.

  "All right!" and Elise threw a sofa cushion and another and another,following them up with a knitted afghan, a silk slumber robe, and thenbeginning on a pile of newspapers.

  Patty, who was lounging on a broad divan, protected her face with adown pillow, and contentedly endured the avalanche.

  Then, as the enemy's stock of missiles gave out, she sat up, flingingthe impedimenta right and left, and her smiling face and tumbled curlstriumphantly braved further assault.

  "It's snowing like the very dickens," Elise declared, disconsolately.

  "I don't see any snow," and Patty shut her blue eyes tight.

  "Of course you don't, you old goose! If a roaring Bengal tiger stoodin front of you, with full intent of eating you at once, you'd shutyour eyes and say, 'There isn't any tiger there.' That is, if you hadtime to get the words out before you slipped down his throat."

  Leisurely, Patty got up, shook her rumpled skirts, and walked to thewindow.

  "It does look like snow," she observed, critically eyeing the landscape.

  "Look like snow!" cried Elise; "it's a blizzard, that's what it is!"

  "Well, doesn't a blizzard look like snow? It does to me. And I don'tknow anything nicer than a whole long day in the house. I'm having thetime of my life."

  Patty threw herself into a big armchair, in front of the blazing logfire, and contentedly held out her slippered feet to the glowing warmth.

  "But we were going to play tennis, and----"

  "My dear child, tennis will keep. And what's the use of growling? Asyou remark, it is a young blizzard, and we can't possibly stop it, solet's make the best of it, and have what is known in the kiddy-books asIndoor Pastimes."

  "Patty, you're enough to exasperate a saint! You and your eternalcheerfulness!"

  "All right, anything to please," and Patty assumed a dolefulexpression, drew down the corners of her mouth, and wrung her hands inmock despair.

  "Isn't it mean," she wailed; "here's this horrid, hateful oldsnowstorm, and we can't go outdoors or anything! I'm mad as a hornet,as a hatter, as a wet hen, as a March hare, as a--as hops, as--whatelse gets awful mad, Elise?"

  "I shall, if you continue to act like an idiot!"

  "My good heavens!" and Patty rolled her eyes toward the ceiling,"there's no pleasing her--positively _no_ pleasing her! What to do!What to do!"

  But Elise's face had cleared up, and as she looked from the window, shesmiled gaily.

  "He's coming!" she cried, "Sam's coming!"

  Patty hastily adjusted her dignity and sat up with a formal air togreet the visitor, while Elise scrabbled up the sofa cushions andnewspapers.

  The girls were down at Lakewood. Patty was the guest of Elise, whosefamily had taken a cottage there for the season. That is, it wascalled a cottage, but was in reality an immense house, most comfortablyand delightfully appointed. Patty was still supposed to beconvalescing from her recent illness, but, as a matter of fact, she hadregained her health and strength, and, though never robust, wasentirely well.

  The invitation to Pine Laurel, as the house was called, was a welcomeone, and the elder Fairfields were glad to have Patty go there for afortnight or so. She had arrived but the day before, and now theunexpected snowstorm had spoiled the plans for tennis and other outdooraffairs. Though it was late November, it was early for such atempestuous snowstorm, and the weather-wise ones opined that it was amere swift and sudden flurry.

  Patty, with her usual adaptability to circumstances, didn't care much,and felt pretty sure the storm would depart as quickly as it hadgathered. She was quite willing to stay indoors a day or two if needbe, and could easily amuse herself in many ways. Not so Elise. Shewas impatient and impetuous, and was always greatly put out if herplans went awry. But the diversion of an unexpected guest roused herto animation and she poked the logs to a brighter blaze by way ofwelcome.

  After the sound of stamping and whisking off snow in the hall, a youngman came into the pleasant sun-parlour where the girls were.

  It was with difficulty that Patty concealed her amazement as she lookedat him. He was of a type that she had heard of, but had never beforechanced to meet.

  Mechanically, she went through the formalities of the introduction, andsat staring at him, without realising that she was doing so.

  "Well," said Sam Blaney, at last, "what about it? Do I get a blueribbon?"

  "Oh, I beg your pardon!" and Patty blushed at her rudeness. "You see,you er--you reminded me of somebody I have met----"

  "No, you mean I remind you of somebody you never have met, but are gladto discover at last."

  Patty laughed outright, for the words so definitely expressed her stateof mind. Thus encouraged, she continued to look at him.

  Blaney was not so extraordinary of appearance, but he presented theeffects of the class known as artistic. His thick, fair hair, while itcould scarcely be called long, was a trifle longer than theconventional cut. His collar, while not Byronic, was low, and he worea Windsor tie, of a sickly, pale green. He was a big man, butloose-jointed and ungainly of build. His manners were careless, andhis voice was low and soft. He had big grey eyes, which seemedespecially noticeable by reason of enormous tortoise-rimmed glasses,whose long, thick bows hooked over his ears.

  "You are a poet," Patty said, decisively, after a smiling survey; "andyou are right, I have always wanted to know a live poet."

  "I hope," said Blaney, in a mournful way, "that you don't agree withthose wiseacres who think the only good poet is a dead poet."

  "Oh, goodness, no!" said Patty, quickly. "But most of the poetry withwhich I am familiar was written by dead men--that is, they weren't deadwhen they wrote it, you know----"

  "But died from the shock?"

  "Now you're making fun of me," and Patty pouted, but as Patty's poutwas only a shade less charming than her smile, the live poet didn'tseem to resent it.

  "Doubtless," he went on, "my work will not be really famous until afterI am dead, but some day I shall read them to you, and get your opinionas to their hopes for a future."

  "Oh, do read them to Patty," exclaimed Elise; "read them now. That'sthe very thing for a stormy day!"

  "Yes," Patty agreed; "if you have an Ode to Spring, or Lines on aBlooming Daffodil, it would be fine to fling them in the teeth of thisstorm."

  "I see you're by way of being a wag, Miss Fairfield," Blaney returned,good-naturedly. "But you've misapprehended my vein. I write poems,not jingles."

  "He does," averred Elise, earnestly. "Oh, Sam, do recite some--won'tyou?"

  "Not now, Lady fair. The setting isn't right, and the flowers are toovivid."

 
Patty looked at the two large vases of scarlet carnations that stood onthe long, massive table in the middle of the room. She had thoughtthem a very pleasant and appropriate decoration for the snowy day, butBlaney's glance at them was disdainful.

  "He's an affected idiot!" she exclaimed to herself. "I don't like himone bit!"

  "Please like me," said the poet's soft voice, and Patty fairly jumpedto realise that he had read her thought in her face.

  "Oh, I do!" she said, with mock fervour, and a slight flush ofembarrassment at her carelessness. "I like you heaps!"

  "Don't be too set up over that," laughed Elise, "for Patty likeseverybody. She's the greatest little old liker you ever saw! Why, sheeven likes people who don't like her."

  "Are there such?" asked Blaney, properly.

  "Yes, indeed," Patty declared; "and I can't help admiring their goodtaste."

  "I can't either," and Blaney spoke so seriously, that Patty almostgasped.

  "That isn't the answer," she smiled; "you should have contradicted me."

  "No," the poet went on; "people who don't like you show realdiscrimination. It is because you are so crude and unformed of soul."

  But Patty was too wise to be caught with such chaff.

  "Yes, that's it," she said, and nodded her curly head in assent.

  "You say yes, because you don't know what I'm talking about. But it'strue. If you had your soul scraped and cleaned and properly polished,you would be well worth liking."

  "Go on! go on!" cried Patty, clapping her hands. "Now I know you'rethe real thing in poets! That's the way I thought they would talk!Say more."

  But Blaney turned sulky. He scowled at Patty, he threw a reproachfulglance at Elise, and the atmosphere suddenly charged with gloom.

  Patty felt that it was her fault and that she had perhaps gone too far.The man was Elise's guest and it wasn't right to make fun of him, if hedid sound foolish. So, ignoring the past conversation, Patty smiled,and said, "It is too bad about the storm, isn't it? We had expected tohave such a fine tennis game today. You play, of course?"

  It was a chance shot, but Patty felt pretty sure that such a big,muscular chap would be fond of outdoor sports and, as it turned out, hewas. Moreover, it would be a grumpy poet, indeed, who wouldn't relentunder the magic of Patty's smile.

  "Yes, I do," he replied, animatedly, and then the talk turned to thegame, and the chances of the storm abating and play being possible in aday or two.

  "Hello, Blaney," said Roger Farrington, coming into the room. "How'severything?"

  "All right, Farry. How goes it with you?"

  "Fine. I say, girls, are you game for a little two-cent sleigh ride inthe storm? As soon as it stops snowing, the flakes will melt likemorning dew, and, if we catch a ride at all, it must be immejit. Howabout it?"

  "I'd love to go!" cried Patty, her eyes sparkling. "I haven't had asleigh ride in ages----"

  "And no telling when you will again," said Roger. "But it's blowinggreat guns, and snowing fast. You're sure you want to go?"

  "Course we do," insisted Elise. "Shall we get our things now?"

  "Not quite yet. I'll have to telephone Mr. Livery Man for a rig. Thisotherwise well-stocked outfit that we're inhabiting doesn't have such athing on the premises as a sleigh. I'll go and see about it."

  "Can't we stop and pick up Alla?" suggested Elise.

  "No," and Sam Blaney shook his head decidedly. "My sister wouldn'tthink of putting her nose out-of-doors on a day like this. I'msurprised that you will, Miss Fairfield."

  "Oh, I'm a tough pine knot. I may not look the part, but I assure youwind and weather have no terrors for me."

  "That's so," put in Elise. "Patty looks like a chaff which the winddriveth away, but it would be a pretty strong old wind that could doit."

  "You can't tell by looks; my sister looks like a strong, hearty girl,but she's as fragile as a spring crocus."

  "There's nothing fragiler than that," Patty remarked; "I've often triedto keep the flimsy little things for a few hours, and even in waterthey droop and peak and pine all to pieces."

  "That's just like Alla," said Blaney. "She's psychic, you see----"

  "Oh, is she!" cried Patty. "I've always wanted to know a real psychic.Mayn't I meet her?"

  "Indeed you may, she'll be pleased. Will you come round to the studiotoday, while we're out sleighing?"

  "No, not today," said Elise, positively. "Roger wouldn't stand for it.He'll want to put in all the time there is on the road. And he's goingto New York tonight, I think."

  "Oh, yes," and Blaney remembered. "Let's see, his wedding day is--whenis it?"

  "Not till the fifteenth of December. But he and Mona have so much tolook after and attend to, that he spends most of his time on the roadbetween here and New York."

  "Isn't Mona coming down here while I'm here?" asked Patty.

  "She promised to," Elise replied, "but Mona's promises are not to beimplicitly depended on just now. She's getting married with all hertime and attention."

  "Well, a wedding like hers is to be does take a lot of planning. AndMona's looking after everything herself. She's a genius at that sortof thing, but it seems as if she ought to have some one to helpher,--some relative, I mean."

  "Her father's a big help," said Roger, who had returned just in time tohear Patty's remark.

  "Yes, I know it, but I mean a woman relative."

  "I know," agreed Roger. "You're right, in a way. But Mona is soaccustomed to managing for herself that I'm pretty sure a meddlingrelative would bother her to death."

  "Probably would," agreed Patty. "Do we go sleigh-ridy, Roger?"

  "We do. The fiery steeds will be here in fifteen minutes. Get warmwraps, for it's blowing like blazes. Shall we go 'round by yourstudio, Sam, and drop in on Alla?"

  "No, please. I don't want to seem inhospitable, but I've decided Iwant Miss Fairfield to see the studio first under proper conditions. Iwant Alla to know when she's coming and----"

  "And have her hair frizzed. I get you. All right. We'll drive 'roundthe lake, and see how the going is, and then decide whether to keep on,or go to some friend's for a cup of tea."

  "You mustn't think my sister is a fuss," said Blaney to Patty, as shestarted to leave the room. "But you know the artist soul likes to havethe stage rightly set for an important scene."

  "Yes," said Patty, a little puzzled.

  "Yes. And your advent at my studio is a most important scene----"

  "Why?" asked Patty, bluntly.

  "Because you're important. In fact, I may say you're the mostimportant person I have ever seen."

  "Really? But if you say things like that, you'll make me vain."

  "You can't well be vainer than you are."

  Patty looked up in sudden anger at this speech, but Blaney's eyes werequietly amused, and his soft voice was so innocent of offence, thatPatty was uncertain what attitude to assume, and to save the necessityof a reply she ran from the room and upstairs to get ready for the ride.