yere comes Massa Ted; now I mus' jes' be spry 'bout gettin' my co'n brade done."
Hopalong shuffled away, and Patty turned to see Uncle Ted coming towards her.
"Hello, Patty-girl," he cried, "you're up be times."
"Yes," said Patty, "and so are you. Oh, Uncle Teddy, isn't the sea gorgeous? I do love it so, and I'm so glad I'm here!"
"That's good, little one; I'm glad you're glad. And now come to breakfast."
Aunt Grace had been carried down-stairs by her husband and son, and was already in her place at the table.
She called Patty to her and kissed her affectionately, and asked her if she slept well. Patty hesitated a moment, then breaking into a merry laugh, she said:
"Why, Auntie Grace, I didn't sleep very well, for I hadn't any bed."
"What?" exclaimed her aunt, in horror, "why, Patty, I ordered a little brass bed sent from Philadelphia purposely for you, and it arrived yesterday morning. I told Dil to put it up in your room, and I told Eunice to see that it was properly made. But I confess I did forget to ask if my orders had been carried out, and,--I suppose they weren't. You poor child! How did you manage? Why didn't you tell us?"
"Well, I didn't notice it until quite late," said Patty. "I was so busy putting my clothes and things away, that I never thought of anything else at the time. And, anyway, I didn't mind for one night."
Just then Bumble came in, and when she heard about Patty's experience she looked astounded. "Why," said she, "I took Patty to her room myself, and I never noticed that there was no bed there!"
"You're a rattle-pated goosey," said her father: "but never mind, Patty, you shall have two beds to-night to make up for it,--I'll promise you that"
"Don't believe him," cried Nan, gayly, as she ran into the dining-room. "I don't know what Uncle Ted is saying to you,--but he won't do it. He never kept a promise in his life!"
"'Oh, promise me,'" began Uncle Ted, and then they all joined in and sang:
"Oh, promise me that some day you and I Will take a piece of huckleberry pie, Some deviled eggs and strawberry ice cream, And have a picnic down by yonder stream. And then we'll wander through the fields afar, And take a ride upon a trolley car; But we'll come home again in time for tea,-- Oh, promise me--oh, promise me-e-e--"
The last refrain rang out with a prolonged wail that seemed to Patty the funniest thing she had ever heard, and she fairly shouted with laughter.
"Oh, dear, you are the funniest family," she exclaimed; "I think I shall stay here six months instead of three."
Chapter XIV.
A Funny Family
Patty was right when she called the Barlows a funny family, for their spirits were irrepressible, and each day, from morning till night was filled with jokes and absurdities accompanied or followed by gales of laughter.
But they were heedless, forgetful people, and the whole household showed an utter lack of systematic management.
Nothing was ever to be found in its place; meals were served at any hour when old Hopalong got them ready. Sometimes the market orders were neglected and there was almost nothing to eat, and then again there was such an overstock that much had to be wasted. The children were allowed to do exactly as they chose, and were never reproved; but if their own mischief led them into misfortune, or their pranks turned out disastrously, they were expected to stand the consequences bravely, and look for little or no sympathy from their elders.
Patty had not been at the Hurly-Burly many days before she discovered that its proportion of order and regularity was entirely too small. To be sure, in the Fleming family it had been too large; but she thought there must be a happy medium, a state of things whereby one could expect the ordinary events of daily life to come in due course, without, however, living as if by clockwork. You see Patty was becoming a very wise little girl, for she was profiting by her varied experiences, and trying to learn the best way to take care of her father's house and make it a real home for him. Sometimes she felt this responsibility very greatly, and longed for some motherly, housewifely friend to talk with about it.
But Aunt Grace, though loving and affectionate, was no help in such matters.
"Nonsense, child," she would say, "don't worry about your housekeeping; why, the house will keep itself, if you let it alone. And you're too young to be bothered with a weight of domestic care, anyway. Now run off and play with Bob and Bumble. Go for a row or a drive and let the breeze blow all such worries out of your little noddle."
So Patty ran away and played with her cousins, and they did have jolly good times.
There were so many nice things to do; fishing sailing, bathing, boating, driving, golf, tennis, and all sorts of outdoor amusements were at their disposal.
The Barlow twins, Nan Allen and Patty made a gay quartette, and if they desired a larger party, there were plenty of neighbors ready to join in their fun.
One warm afternoon, Patty and Bumble sat in a hammock swung under the trees, while Bob sprawled on the grass near them.
"Girls," said he, "come on, let's go for a swim. The Smiths and the Enfields just went down towards the bath-houses, and there'll be a jolly crowd in the water."
"All right, let's go," replied his sister. "Where's Nan?"
"She's in the house somewhere," said Patty. "I'll go find her."
Patty ran into the house and looked in at the music-room door, as a beginning of her search, but there she saw such a startling sight that she stood spellbound, unable to go any further.
At the writing-desk sat a person whose head was entirely bald. Not a spear of hair was anywhere visible on the bare, pinky-white scalp, and the round head was smooth and shiny as a billiard-ball.
Then the head turned round and faced Patty, with rolling eyes and a weird grimace. But Patty looked so astounded and frightened that the face broke into a reassuring smile, and Nan's voice said:
"Why, Patty, don't be scared; it's only I. Didn't you know I wore a wig? There it is, on that chair."
And sure enough, there was Nan's mop of frizzed, flaxen hair hanging on a chair-back.
"But," said Patty, coming nearer, and still unable quite to comprehend it all, "why don't you have any hair yourself?"
"Well, you see," said Nan, as she sealed and addressed the letter she had been writing, "I had typhoid fever just before I left home, and my hair came out so, that I had to have it all shaved off. So now I am wearing a wig until it grows again. But it is so warm to-day, I took my wig off for a few moments to rest my head."
Patty examined the wig with great interest.
"I think it's wonderful," she said, "is it just like your own hair was?"
"No, indeed, I wanted a change.
