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“And other girls,” said Patty, glancing mischievously at Elise.
“Yes, there are four of us,” said Louise, so innocently that they all laughed.
“All right, Louise,” said Kenneth, “you find a nice, big spray of mistletoe, after dinner, and wear it in that big topknot bow of yours, and I’ll promise to kiss you on both cheeks.”
But Louise was too shy to respond to this repartee, and she dropped her eyes in confusion.
“Now,” said Mrs. Farrington, as she rose from the table, “we’ll have our Christmas Waits sing carols, and then we’ll have our tree.”
The children understood this, and Hester and Bobby at once ran out of the room. A few moments later they returned, dressed in trailing white robes, like surplices, and before they reached the drawing-room, their childish voices could be heard singing old-fashioned carols.
They had been well trained, and sang very prettily, and as they appeared in the doorway, Patty could scarcely believe that these demure little white-robed figures were the two merry children.
After two or three carols by the “Waits,” the whole party joined in a Christmas chorus, and Patty’s clear soprano rang out sweetly in the harmony.
“What a lovely voice you have, Patty, dear,” said Mrs. Farrington, as the song was done; “it has improved greatly since I heard you last. Are you taking lessons?”
“I shall, Mrs. Farrington, after we get fairly settled. Father wants me to begin as soon as he can find the right teacher.”
“Yes, indeed; you must do so. It would be a shame not to cultivate such a talent as that.”
“You have improved, Patty!” declared Kenneth. “My! but your voice is stunning. I expect we’ll see you on the concert stage yet.”
“More likely on a Fifth Avenue stage,” said Patty, laughing.
“Now for the tree!” exclaimed Bobby, who had thrown aside his white robe, and was ready for the fun to begin.
The tree had been set up in the indoor tennis-court, which was in the Casino.
This Casino, practically another house, opened from the great hall of the Farrington mansion, and its various apartments were devoted to different sorts of amusements.
The tennis court made a fine setting for the Christmas celebration, and had been carefully prepared for the great event.
The floor was covered with white canton flannel, so arranged over slight ridges and hummocks that it looked exactly like a field of drifted snow.
The tree, at the end of the room, was the largest that could be obtained, and was loaded with beautiful ornaments and decorations, and glittering with electric lights of all colours.
Patty had seen many Christmas trees, but never such a large or splendid one, and it almost took her breath away.
“I didn’t know trees ever grew so big,” she said. “How did you get it into the house?”
“It was difficult,” said Mr. Farrington. “I had to engineer the job myself. But Bobby asked for a big tree, and as the children are growing up so fast, I wanted to humour him.”
As Patty had often said, “for a millionaire, Mr. Farrington was the kindest man she ever knew.”
Though wealthy, he had no desire for display or ostentatious extravagance, but he loved to please his children, and was sufficiently rewarded by their enjoyment of the pleasures he provided.
Now, he was as frankly delighted with Bobby’s enthusiasm as Bobby was with his tree.
“Come on, old chappie,” he cried; “you shall be Santa Claus, and distribute the gifts.”
Meantime, the older ones were admiring the decorations of the room. Round the walls were smaller evergreen trees of varying heights, giving the effect of a clearing in a grove of evergreens. The ceiling had been draped across with dark blue material, and was studded with stars, made of tiny electric lights.
Bunches and wreaths of holly, tied with red ribbons, gave a touch of colour to the general effect, and in one corner beneath a green arched bower, a chime of bells pealed softly at intervals.
Altogether, the whole place breathed the very spirit of Christmas, and so perfect were the appointments, that no false note marred the harmony of it all.
“Now for the presents!” cried Bobby. “Oh, daddy, there’s my ’lectric railroad! Won’t you other people wait till I see how it works?”
The others all laughed at the eager, apologetic little face, as Bobby found it impossible to curb his impatience to see his new toy.
It was indeed a fine electric railway, and every one became interested as Mr. Farrington began to take it from its box and put the parts together.
“This is the way it goes, dad,” said Roger, kneeling on the floor beside his father.
“No, this way,” said Kenneth, as he adjusted some of the parts.
Quite content to wait for their gifts, Mrs. Farrington and the girls stood round watching the proceedings with interest, and soon Patty and Elise were down on the floor, too, breathlessly waiting the completion of the structure, and cheering gaily as the first train went successfully round the long track. Other trains followed, switches were set, signals opened or closed, bridges crossed, and all the manœuvres of a real railroad repeated in miniature.
“I haven’t had so much fun since I was a kid,” said Kenneth, rising from the floor and mopping his heated brow with his handkerchief.
“Nor I!” declared Mr. Farrington. “I’d rather rig up that toy for that boy of mine than—than to own a real railroad!”
“I believe you would!” said his wife, laughing. “And now, suppose you see what Santa Claus has for the rest of us.”
“Father’s all in,” said Roger. “You sit on that heap of snow, dad, and Kenneth and I will unload these groaning branches.”
Bobby was too absorbed in his cars to think of anything else, so the little girls acted as messengers to distribute the gifts from the tree.
And this performance was a lengthy one.
Parcel after parcel, daintily wrapped and tied, was given to Patty, and, of course, the Farringtons had many more.
But Patty had a great quantity, for knowing where she was to spend her Christmas, all her young friends had sent gifts to her at the Farringtons’, and the accumulation was almost as great as Elise’s.
“I’m helpless,” said Patty, as she sat with her lap full of gifts, boxes and papers strewn all about her on the floor, and Louise or Hester still bringing her more parcels.
“Let me help you,” said Kenneth, as he picked up a lot of her belongings.
As he was only a dinner guest, of course Kenneth had no such array of gifts, though the Farringtons had given him some pretty trifles, and Patty gave him a charming little Tanagra statuette she had brought from Florence.
“See what Elise gave me,” he remarked, as he showed the bronze paper-knife. “Jolly, isn’t it?”
“Yes, indeed,” returned Patty, relieved to see that Elise had not given him the ring after all. “It’ll be fine to cut your briefs when you’re a real out-and-out lawyer. What are briefs, anyway?”
“Little girls shouldn’t use words of which they don’t know the meaning,” said Kenneth, reprovingly.
“Well, anyway, if they’re brief enough, they won’t need cutting,” returned Patty, saucily, and then returned to the opening of her own presents.
She had pretty little gifts from Hilda Henderson, Lorraine Hamilton, Clementine Morse, and many of the other girls, some of whom she had not seen since her return to New York.
“Isn’t it lovely to have so many friends?” said she, looking over her pile of gifts at Kenneth.
“Do you love them all?” he asked, smiling back at her happy face.
“Oh, indeed I do. Not exactly because they’ve given me all these pretty things, for I love the girls just as much in the summer time as at Christmas. But because they’re my friends, and so,—I love them.”
“Boys are your friends, too,” suggested Kenneth.
“Of course they are!” Patty agreed; “and I love them, too. I guess I love everybody.”
“Rather a big order,” said Roger, coming up just then. “Loving everybody, you can’t give a very large portion to each one.”
“No,” said Patty, pretending to look downcast. “Now, isn’t that too bad! Well, never mind, I’ve plenty of gratitude to go round, anyway. And I offer you a big share of that, Roger, for this silver box.”
“Do you like it? Oh, please like it, Patty.”
“Of course I do; it’s exquisite workmanship, and I shall use it for,—well, it seems most too prosaic,—but it’s exactly the right shape and size for hairpins!”
“Then use it for ’em! Why not?” cried Roger, evidently pleased that Patty could find a use for his gift.
“And see what Ken gave me,” went on Patty, as she held up a small crystal ball. “I’ve long wanted a crystal, and this is a beauty.”
“What’s it for?” asked Roger, curiously; “it looks like a marble.”
“Marble, indeed! Why, Roger, it’s a crystal, a Japanese rock crystal.”
“Isn’t it glass?”
“No, ignorant one! ’Tis not glass, but a curio of rare and occult value. In it I read the future, the past, and the present.”
“Yes, it is a present, I know,” said Roger, and in the laugh at this sally the subject was dropped, but Roger secretly vowed to look up the subject of crystals and find out why Patty was so pleased with a marble.
“Elise is simply snowed under,” said Kenneth, as they heard rapturous exclamations from the other side of the room, where Elise was examining her gifts.
“Think of it!” cried Patty; “she had everything a girl could possibly want yesterday, and now to-day she has a few bushels more!”
It was literally true. Getting free, somehow, of her own impedimenta, Patty ran over to see Elise’s things.
“You look like a fancy bazaar gone to smash,” she declared, as she saw Elise in the midst of her Christmas portion.
“I feel like an International Exhibition,” returned Elise. “I’ve gifts from all parts of the known world!”
“And unknown!” said Kenneth, picking up various gimcracks of whose name or use he had no idea.
“But this is what I like best,” she went on, smiling at Kenneth, as she held up the dainty little card-case he had given her. “I shall use this only when calling on my dearest friends.”
“Good for you!” he returned. “Glad you like it. And as I know you’ve lots of dearest friends, I’ll promise, when it’s worn out, to give you another.”
Elise looked a trifle disappointed at this offhand response to her more earnest speech, but she only smiled gaily, and turned the subject.
CHAPTER V
SKATING AND DANCING
“Kenneth thinks an awful lot of you, Patty,” said Elise, as, after the Christmas party was all over, the girls were indulging in a good-night chat.
“Pooh,” said Patty, who, in kimono and bedroom slippers, nestled in a big easy-chair in front of the wood-fire in Elise’s dressing-room. “I’ve known Ken for years, and we do think a lot of each other. But you needn’t take that tone, Elise. It’s a boy and girl chumminess, and you know it. Why, Ken doesn’t think any more of me than Roger does.”
“Oh, Roger! Why, he’s perfectly gone on you. He worships the ground you walk on. Surely, Patty, you’ve noticed Roger’s devotion.”
“What’s the matter with you, Elise? Where’d you get these crazy notions about devotion and worship? If you’ll excuse my French,—you make me tired!”
“Don’t you like to have the boys devoted to you, Patty?”
“No, I don’t! I like their jolly friendship, of course. I like to talk to Ken and Roger, or to Clifford Morse, or any of the boys of our set; but as for devotion, I don’t see any.”
“None so blind as those who won’t see,” said Elise, who had finished brushing her hair, and now sank down on an ottoman by Patty’s side.
“Well, then, I’ll stay blind, for I don’t want to see devoted swains worshipping the Persian rugs I walk on! Though if you mean these beautiful rugs that are on all the floors of your house, Elise, I don’t know that I blame the swains so much. By the way, I suppose some of them are ‘prayer rugs’ anyway, so that makes it all the more appropriate.”
“Oh, Patty, you’re such a silly! You’re not like other girls.”
“You surprise me, Elise! Also you flatter me! I had an idea I belonged to the common herd.”
“Patty, will you be serious? Roger is terribly in love with you.”
“Really, Elise? How interesting! Now, what would you do in a case like that?”
“I’d consider it seriously, at any rate.”
Patty put one finger to her forehead, frowned deeply, and gazed into the fire for fully half a minute. Then she said:
“I’ve considered, Elise, and all I can think of is the ‘Cow who considered very well and gave the piper a penny.’ Do you suppose Roger would care for a penny?”
“He would, if you gave it to him,” returned Elise, who was almost petulant at Patty’s continued raillery.
“Then he shall have it! Rich as the Farringtons are, if the son of the house wants a penny of my fortune, it shall not be denied him!”
Patty had risen, and was stalking up and down the room with jerky strides, and dramatic waving of her arms. Her golden hair hung in a curly cloud over her blue silk kimono, and her voice thrilled with a tragic intensity, though, of course, exaggerated to a ludicrous degree.
Having finished her speech, Patty retained her dramatic pose, and glared at Elise like a very young and pretty Lady Macbeth.
“Oh, Patty,” cried Elise, forgetting the subject in hand, “you ought to be an actress! Do you know, you were quite stunning when you flung yourself round so. And, Patty, with your voice,—your singing voice, I mean,—you ought to go on the stage! Do, will you, Patty? I’d love to see you an opera singer!”
“Elise, you’re crazy to-night! Suppose I should go on the stage, what would become of all these devoted swains who are worshipping my feetsteps?”
“Bother the swains! Patty, my heart is set upon it. You must be an actress. I mean a really nice, gentle, refined one, like Maude Adams, or Eleanor Robson. Oh, they are so sweet! and such noble, grand women.”
“Elise, you have lovely ambitions for your friends. What about yourself? Won’t you be a circus-rider, dear? I want you to be as ambitious for you as you are for me.”
“Patty, stop your fooling. I was quite in earnest.”
“Then you’d better begin fooling. It’s more sensible than your earnestness. Now, I’m going to run away to bed and leave you to dream that you’re a circus-rider, whizzing round a ring on a snow-white Arab steed. Good-night, girlie.”
Alone in her room, Patty smiled to herself at Elise’s foolishness. And yet, though she had no desire to be an actress, Patty had sometimes dreamed of herself as a concert singer, enchanting her audiences with her clear, sweet voice, which was fine and true, if not great. She was ambitious, though as yet not definitely so, and Elise’s words had roused a dormant desire to be or to do something worth while, and not, as she thought to herself, be a mere social butterfly.
Then she smiled again as she thought of Elise’s talk about Ken and Roger.
But here no answering chord was touched. As chums, she thoroughly liked both boys, but the thought of any more serious liking only roused a feeling of amusement in her mind.
“Perhaps I may be glad to have somebody in love with me some day,” she thought; “but it will be many years from now, and meantime I want to do a whole lot of things that are really worth doing.”
Then, with a whimsical thought that to sleep was the thing most worth doing at the present moment, Patty tumbled into the soft, white nest prepared for her and was soon sound asleep.
Christmas Day was one of the finest. No snow, but a clear, cold, bracing air, that was exhilarating to breathe.
“Skating this afternoon?” said Roger, after the Merry Christmas greetings had been exchanged.
“Yes, indeed,” cried Patty and Elise in one breath.
“Let’s get up a party, shall us?” went on Roger, “and skate till dusk, and then all come back here and have tea under the Christmas tree?”
“Lovely!” cried Elise, but Patty hesitated.
“You know we have the dance on for to-night,” she said.
Patty was not robust, and continuous exertions often tired her. Nan had cautioned her not to attempt too much gaiety during this visit, and she wanted to rest before the evening’s dance.
“Oh, pshaw!” said Elise, “there’ll be lots of time. The dance won’t begin till nine, anyway.”
So Patty agreed, and Roger went off to invite his skating party by telephone.
He secured Kenneth, and the two Morses, and then he hung up the receiver.
“That’s enough,” he declared. “I don’t like a big skating party. Slip away, girls, and get your bonnets and shawls; the car’ll be here in half an hour.”
The girls went off to dress, and Patty viewed her new skating costume with decided approval.
It was all of white. A white cloth frock, with short skirt; white broadcloth coat and a Russian turban of white cloth and fur; long white leather leggings, and her Christmas furs, which added a charming touch to the costume.
As being more comfortable for skating, she had returned to her former mode of hair-dressing, and so two big white ribbon bows bloomed at the back of her head. These, and the short skirt, quite took away Patty’s grown-up air, and made her seem a little girl again.
“Hello, Baby,” said Roger, as he saw her come downstairs, with rosy cheeks and eyes sparkling with pleasurable anticipation, for Patty loved to skate.
“Mam-ma!” said Patty, putting her finger in her mouth, and assuming a vacant, babyish stare.
Roger laughed at her foolishness, and then Elise came along and they all went out to the car.
Elise’s suit was of crimson cloth, bordered with dark fur, and as a consequence the two girls together made a pretty picture.
“You’re such a comfort, Patty,” Elise said, as they climbed into the big car. “You always dress just right to harmonise with my clothes.”
“Sure you do!” said Roger, looking at the two girls admiringly. “No fellow on the ice will escort such beautiful ladies as I have in my charge. Now, we’ll pick up Ken and the Morses, and then make a dash for the Pole.”
They reached the Park by three o’clock, so had nearly two hours of skating before the dusk fell.
Patty was a superior skater, and so were most of the others, for Roger had chosen his party with care.
“Skate with me, Patty, will you?” said Roger, just at the same moment that Kenneth said, “Of course you’ll skate with me, Patty.”
Patty looked at both boys with a comical smile. “Thank you,” she said; “but I always like to pick out my own escort.” Then, turning to Clifford Morse, she said:
“Skate with me, won’t you, Cliff? We’re a good team.”
“We are that!” he replied, greatly pleased, if a little surprised at Patty’s invitation.
Kenneth and Roger grinned at each other, and then turned quickly to the other girls, who had not heard the little parley.
Of course Roger skated with Clementine Morse, and Kenneth with Elise, which arrangement quite satisfied the dark-eyed beauty.
“You look like Little Red Riding-hood,” said Kenneth, as they started off, with long, gliding strokes.
“Don’t be a wolf, and eat me up,” laughed Elise, for Kenneth had fur on his cap and overcoat, and with his big fur gloves, seemed almost like some big, good-natured animal.
“You skate beautifully, Elise,” said Kenneth, “and all you girls do. Look at Clementine; isn’t she graceful?”
“Yes,” agreed Elise, “and so is Patty.”
“Patty,” echoed Kenneth. “She is a poem on ice!”
She was, and Elise knew it, but a naughty little jealousy burned in her heart at Ken’s words.
She bravely tried to down it, however, and said: “Yes, she is. She’s a poem in every way.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. In some ways she’s more of a jolly, merry jingle.”
“A nonsense rhyme,” suggested Elise, falling in with his metaphor.
“Yes; how quick you are to see what I mean. Now, Clementine is a lyric,—she glides so gracefully along.”
“And I?” asked Elise, laughing at his witty characterisation.
“You? Well, I can’t judge unless I see you. Skate off by yourself.”
Elise did so, and Kenneth watched the scarlet-clad figure gracefully pirouetting and skilfully executing difficult steps.
“Well?” she said, as she returned to him, and again they joined hands and glided along in unison.
“Well, you’re delightful on ice. You’re a will o’ the wisp.”
“But I want to be a poem of some sort. The other girls are.”
Kenneth smiled at the pretty, anxious face.
“You are a poem. You’re one of those little French forms. A virelay or a triolet.”
Elise was a little uncertain as to what these were, exactly, but she resolved to look them up as soon as she reached home. At any rate, she knew Kenneth meant to be complimentary, and she smiled with pleasure.
Then the others joined them and they all skated together for a time, and then the sun set, and Roger said they must go home.
He was a most reliable boy, and always took charge of their little expeditions or outings. Elise never thought of questioning his authority, so again they all bundled into the car, and started homeward.
“I ought to go right home,” said Clementine.
“Oh, come round for a cup of Christmas tea,” said Roger, “and I’ll take you home in half an hour.”
So the Morses consented, and the six merry young people had tea under the Christmas tree, and told stories by the firelight, and laughed and chatted until Clementine declared she must go, or she’d never get back in time for the dance.
“What are you going to wear, Patsy?” asked Elise, as they went upstairs, arm in arm.
“I’ve a new frock, of course. Did you think I’d come to your dance in one I’d worn before? Nay, I hold Miss Farrington in too high esteem for that!”
“Well, scurry into it, for I’m crazy to see it. If it’s prettier than mine, I won’t let you go down to the ballroom!”
“It won’t be,” returned Patty; “don’t worry about that!”
But when the two girls were dressed, Patty’s frock, though not so expensive, was quite as attractive as Elise’s.
Patty’s was of apricot-coloured satin, veiled all over with a delicate thin material of the same shade. A pearl trimming encircled the slightly low-cut throat and the short sleeves. It was very becoming to pretty Patty, and she knew herself that she had never looked better.
Elise’s gown was of white silk, draped with silvered lace. It was lovely, and suited Elise’s dark hair and eyes, and really both girls were pictures. But Patty’s face was sunny and happy, while Elise’s red mouth drooped in a little curve of discontent.
The girl was discontented by nature, and though she had everything that heart could wish, she was never brimming over with content and happiness, as Patty always was.
The dance was in the tennis court, where a smooth crash had replaced the snowy floor of the Christmas Eve celebration. The Christmas tree still stood there, as it formed a beautiful decoration for that end of the ballroom.
It was not a large party, for Mrs. Farrington would not allow Elise to act like a young lady out in society. About thirty young people were asked, and the hours were from nine till twelve.
But the music was of the finest, and as Patty’s favourite amusement was dancing, she had a most enjoyable time.
An exquisite dancer, she was, of course, besieged by partners, but in her merry, wholehearted way, she treated them all alike, showing favouritism to none, and dancing with less desirable partners as pleasantly and happily as with those she liked better.
Roger grumbled at this.
“You’re wasted on a fellow like Harry Barr,” he said, as he and Patty started for a turn. “He dances like a grain-thresher, and yet you bob along with him as smilingly as if you were dancing with a decent tripper.”
“Why not?” returned Patty; “he’s pleasant and kind. He doesn’t talk like a grain-thresher, and he can’t help his dancing. Or rather, his lack of it, for you can’t call those gymnastics of his dancing. Oh, Roger, there’s Mr. Hepworth!”
Sure enough, Mr. Hepworth had just come in, and as Patty spoke, he caught her eye and smiled.
She smiled back, and when the dance was over asked Roger to take her to him.
“Old Hepworth?” said Roger, in surprise. “You can’t waste time on him, Patty; your dance card is full, you know.”
“I don’t care, I must just speak to him. I haven’t seen him since I came home. Whoever belongs to my next dance can wait a few minutes.”