to find herself wrapped in paper and tied with a string.
After she had waited about ten minutes, a tall young woman came quickly down-stairs and passed along the hall. She had on a hat and jacket, and was evidently going away in a great hurry.
As she went by the reception room, she caught sight of Patty through the open door, and stopped in surprise.
"Good-morning," she said, in a quick, hurried way. "Did you wish to see me?"
"I don't know," said Patty, uncertain whether this was a cousin or a visitor at the house. "I am Patty Fairfield."
"Oh, yes, of course,--our cousin from the South. I'm so glad to see you,"--she shook Patty's hand hastily,--"but I must ask you to excuse me this morning, as I am just going to a meeting of the 'Current Events' Club, and I am already five minutes late."
With an apologetic smile she hastened away, and Patty waited again.
Then she heard another step on the stairs, and another lady entered the room. This time it was Aunt Hester. She was a delicate looking little woman with silver hair, but Patty knew her at once from her resemblance to her father, who was Mrs. Fleming's brother.
"My dear child," said her aunt, as she kissed Patty, affectionately, "we are very glad to have you with us. But where is Tom?"
"He met a friend, Mr. Harding, and went away with him on very important business. He said to tell you he would be home to-night, and he sent me here by a messenger-boy."
"Very well; I am glad you reached here safely. Are you hungry? Have you breakfasted?"
"I had coffee and rolls on the boat, but I am hungry," said Patty, frankly.
"Of course you are; well, you shall have something to eat. Let me look at you. Yes, you do look a little like brother Fred. How old are you?"
"Fourteen," replied Patty.
"Ah, just the age of Ruth Fleming, who lives with us, and who will be pleasant company for you. I hope you will be happy with us, my dear, and you mustn't mind being left to yourself a bit, for we are very busy people. Life is too short to be wasted in idleness."
"Yes," assented Patty, thinking that this aunt was indeed very different from Aunt Isabel.
"And now," continued Mrs. Fleming, "I am going to send Molly to you, and she will show you to your room, and afterwards give you some breakfast. I must ask you to excuse me this morning, as I have to go to the sewing-class. Ruth is at school, but we will all meet at luncheon which is served promptly at one."
Mrs. Fleming went away, not hurriedly, but with a quick, decided step, and in a few moments Molly, the maid appeared.
She was a merry-looking Irish girl, and her pleasant smile was such a contrast to the preoccupied manners of the ladies, that Patty felt friendly towards her at once.
"Come with me, Miss Fairfield," she said, and taking up Patty's hand-luggage, she led the way to a room on the third floor. It was a good-sized room, very neat and well-furnished, but with none of the luxury and beauty of Patty's room at Villa Rosa.
There was a square dressing-table and exactly in the centre of it was a square pincushion, with a glass toilet bottle on either side and behind it a smaller glass bottle to match. The chairs were stiff and straight, and there was a haircloth sofa with a small, square pillow at each end and one in the middle.
In the centre of the room was a table with books on it, and writing materials, and a drop-light hung over it from the chandelier above.
Though plain in its appointments, the room was light and airy and exquisitely neat and well-kept.
Molly deftly unfastened Patty's bag and shawl-straps, and then said:
"Now, miss, I'll go below, and when you're ready, come down three flights of stairs to the dining-room, and I'll give you some breakfast."
Patty thanked her, and when she had left the room, Patty sat down in the small, straight-backed rocking-chair to "think herself out," as she sometimes expressed it.
She felt a little homesick for the warm-hearted friends at Villa Rosa, and yet she felt sure her Boston relatives were going to be very nice, if only they could ever find time to talk to her.
She wondered if the ladies were always hurrying off to club-meetings, and if Ruth were always studying. She would be glad when Cousin Tom came home, for she was very sure she liked him.
She looked critically at her surroundings and decided that when her trunks came, and she could put the pretty things that she owned all about, the room would look much more cozy and attractive, and so, though her reception had chilled her a little, she thought that perhaps she would have a good time in Boston after all.
She jumped up and began to arrange such things as she had brought with her.
Her pretty silver brushes and trays looked somewhat out of place on the prim dressing-table, but Patty thought them a decided improvement. Then she unwrapped her mother's portrait, and placed it on the writing-table.
"It's a funny place, this, motherdy," she whispered to the picture, "and I don't know whether we'll like it or not; but we'll be happy together, you and I. And I think we'll like Aunt Hester, for she's papa's sister, you know, so she must be nice."
Then Patty went down the three flights of stairs, as directed, in search of Molly.
"It's funny," she said to herself, "to go down cellar to breakfast. But I'm sure she said three flights," and sure enough, when she reached the basement, Molly met her with a kindly smile, saying,
"Come this way, miss," and Patty found that the front basement was the dining-room.
Its large windows were protected by iron railings, and the whole room had an air of solemn dignity rather than cheerfulness, but Molly was so pleasant and cordial that Patty felt cheerful at once.
The smiling Irish girl brought her some fruit, an omelet, hot rolls and delicious coffee, and after she had finished her solitary meal, Patty felt better able to cope with whatever might be awaiting her.
But apparently, nothing awaited her.
It was about ten o'clock, and as luncheon was announced for one, Patty wondered what she was expected to do in the meantime.
She asked Molly where Miss Elizabeth Fleming was.
"Laws, miss," said Molly, rolling her eyes, "don't make no attempt for to see her. She's writin' a novel, and she's up in her den on the fourth floor. We don't even call her to her meals. If she wants to come, she comes; and if she don't, I takes a few things up and sets 'em outside her door."
"Oh," said Patty, with great interest, "can't you speak to people when they're writing novels?"
"Indade, no, miss. It spiles the whole thing, and they has to begin all over again if a word is spoken to them."
"I think that's wonderful," said Patty, much impressed, "and I'm just crazy to see my Cousin Elizabeth. And Ruth, where is she?"
"Miss Ruth, she's at her school, miss, around on
