Patty's Summer Days Part 3

CHAPTER III

ATLANTIC CITY

Patty's day at the Barlows' was a decided contrast to her visit at Mrs.

Allen's.

In the Allen home every detail of housekeeping was complete and very carefully looked after, while at the Barlows' everything went along in a slipshod, hit-or-miss fas.h.i.+on.

Patty well remembered her visit at their summer home which they called the Hurly-Burly, and she could not see that their city residence was any less deserving of the name. Her Aunt Grace and Uncle Ted were jolly, good-natured people, who cared little about system or method in their home. The result was that things often went wrong, but n.o.body cared especially if they did.

"I meant to have a nicer luncheon for you, Patty," said her aunt, as they sat down at the table, "but the cook forgot to order lobsters, and when I telephoned for fresh peas the grocer said I was too late, for they were all sold. I'm so sorry, for I do love hothouse peas, don't you?"

"I don't care what I have to eat, Aunt Grace. I just came to visit you people, you know, and the luncheon doesn't matter a bit."

"That's nice of you to say so, child. I remember what an adaptable little thing you were when you were with us down in the country, and really, you did us quite a lot of good that summer. You taught b.u.mble how to keep her bureau drawers in order. She's forgotten it now, but it was nice while it lasted."

"_Helen_, Mother, I do wish you would call me Helen. b.u.mble is such a silly name."

"I know it, my dear," said Mrs. Barlow, placidly, "and I do mean to, but you see I forget."

"I forget it, too," said Patty. "But I'll try to call you Helen if you want me to. What time does Uncle Ted come home, Aunt Grace?"

"Oh, about five o'clock, or perhaps six; and sometimes he gets here at four. I never know what time he's coming home."

"It isn't only that," said Bob; "in fact, father usually comes home about the same time. But our clocks are all so different that it depends on which room mother is in, as to what time she thinks it is."

"That's so," said Helen. "We have eleven clocks in this house, Patty, and every one of them is always wrong. Still, it's convenient in a way; if you want to go anywhere at a certain time, no matter what time you start, you can always find at least one clock that's about where you want it to be."

"I'm sure I don't see why the clocks don't keep the right time," said Mrs. Barlow. "A man comes every Sat.u.r.day on purpose to wind and set them all."

"We fool with them," confessed Bob. "You see, Patty, we all like to get up late, and we set our clocks back every night, so that we can do it with a good grace."

"Yes," said Helen, "and then if we want each other to go anywhere through the day,--on time, you know,--we go around the house, and set all the clocks forward. That's the only possible way to make anybody hurry up."

Patty laughed. The whole conversation was so characteristic of the Barlows as she remembered them, and she wondered how they could enjoy living in such a careless way.

But they were an especially happy family, and most hospitable and entertaining. Patty thoroughly enjoyed her afternoon, although they did nothing in particular for her entertainment. But Aunt Grace was very fond of her motherless niece, and the twins just adored Patty.

At five o'clock tea was served, and though the appointments were not at all like Mrs. Allen's carefully equipped service, yet it was an hour of comfortable enjoyment. Uncle Ted came home, and he was so merry and full of jokes, that he made them all laugh. Two or three casual callers dropped in, and Patty thought again, as she sometimes did, that perhaps she liked her Barlow cousins best of all.

Dinner, not entirely to Patty's surprise, showed some of the same characteristics as luncheon had done. The salad course was lacking, because the mayonnaise dressing had been upset in the refrigerator; the ice cream was spoiled, because by mistake the freezer had been set in the sun until the ice melted, and the pretty pink pyramid was in a state of soft collapse.

But, as Aunt Grace cheerfully remarked, if it hadn't been that, it would have been something else, and it didn't matter much, anyway.

It was this happy philosophy of the Barlow family that charmed Patty so, and it left no room for embarra.s.sment at these minor accidents, either on the part of the family or their guest.

"Now," said Patty, after dinner, "if necessary, I'm going to set all the clocks forward, for, Helen, I do want you to be ready when Mrs. Allen sends for us. She doesn't like to be kept waiting, one bit."

"Never mind the clocks, Patty," said Helen good-naturedly. "I'll be ready." She scampered off to dress, and sure enough was entirely ready before the carriage came.

"You see, Patty," she said, "we _can_ do things on time, only we've fallen into the habit of not doing so, unless there's somebody like you here to spur us up."

Patty admitted this, but told b.u.mble that she was sorry her influence was not more lasting.

On Sat.u.r.day they started with the Banks's on the automobile trip. Mrs.

Allen provided Patty with a long coat for the journey, and a veil to tie over her hat. Not being accustomed to motoring, Patty did not have appropriate garments, and Mrs. Allen took delight in fitting her out with some of Nan's.

Mr. Banks's motor-car was of the largest and finest type. It was what is called a palace touring car, and represented the highest degree of comfort and luxury.

Patty had never been in such a beautiful machine, and when she was snugly tucked in the tonneau between Mrs. Allen and Ethel, Mr. Banks and Mr.

Allen climbed into the front seat, and they started off.

The ride to Atlantic City was most exhilarating, and Patty enjoyed every minute of it. There was a top to the machine, for which reason the force of the wind was not so uncomfortable, and the tourists were able to converse with each other.

"I thought," said Patty, "that when people went in these big cars, at this fearful rate of speed, you could hardly hear yourself think, much less talk to each other. What's the name of your car, Mr. Banks?"

"The Flying Dutchman," was the reply.

"It's a flyer, all right," said Patty, "but I don't see anything Dutch about it."

"That's in honour of one of my ancestors, who, they tell me, came over from Holland some hundreds of years ago."

"Then it's a most appropriate name," said Patty, "and it's the most beautiful and comfortable car I ever saw."

They went spinning on mile after mile at what Patty thought was terrific speed, but which Mr. Banks seemed to consider merely moderate. After a while, seeing how interested Patty was in the mechanism of the car, Mr.

Allen offered to change seats with her, and let her sit with Mr. Banks, while that gentleman explained to her the working of it.

Patty gladly made the change, and eagerly listened while Mr. Banks explained the steering gear, and as much of the motor apparatus as he could make clear to her.

Patty liked Mr. Banks. He was a kind and courteous gentleman, and treated her with a deference that gave Patty a sudden sense of importance. It seemed strange to think that she, little Patty Fairfield, was the honoured guest of the well-known Mr. Banks of Philadelphia. She did her best to be polite and entertaining in return, and the result was very pleasant, and also very instructive in the art of motoring.

They reached Atlantic City late in the afternoon, and went at once to a large hotel, where Mr. Banks had telegraphed ahead for rooms.

Patty and Ethel had adjoining rooms, and the Allens and Mr. Banks had rooms across the hall from them.

Patty had begun to like Ethel before this trip had been planned, and as she knew her better she liked her more. Ethel Banks, though the only daughter of a millionaire, was not in the least proud or ostentatious.

She was a sweet, simple-minded girl, with friendly ways, and a good comrades.h.i.+p soon developed between her and Patty.

She was a little older than Patty, and had just come out in society during the past winter.

As Patty was still a schoolgirl, she could not be considered as "out,"

but of course on occasions like the present, such formalities made little or no difference.