“You were certainly in no way to blame, Patty,” he said, heartily, “for, of course, you’ve had no experience with sand, and had no reason to suspect that the wheels would sink. But you’ve learned the lesson, and now that particular trouble is not likely to occur again, for you will remember to stick to the hard roads.”
“But, you see, the particular trouble was really the cow, and, of course, she’s likely to occur again at any time.”
“Then the only remedy that I can suggest is to have a cow-catcher built on the front of your car.”
“No; I’m not going to spoil the perfect lines of my beautiful Camilla by any unsightly device. You see, father, the lines of that car are simply perfect. I know this, because it says so in the booklet the company gave me. And it speaks quite highly of the car’s various points, and accessories, and really goes so far as to state that it is superior to any other car in the market! And the longer I use it, the more fully I agree with the booklet.”
“I’m glad your long experience justifies the company’s claims. Have you named the car Camilla?”
“Yes, because she scours the plain; don’t you remember how swift Camilla scoured the plain?”
“Yes, I remember, but it seems a more appropriate name for some patent cleaning powder.”
“Nonsense, daddy! Have you no poetry or romance in your soul? Swift Camilla is a lovely name for my car, and I mean to scour the plain for miles around. Come on, Nan, let’s go and tidy up for dinner. It’s getting late.”
“It is so,” said her father, “and, though I sha’n’t be too severe with you this time, I must mildly repeat that I want you hereafter to get home from your scouring expeditions before dark.”
“Sure!” cried Patty, gaily, blowing him a kiss from the tips of her fingers as she ran away.
The days flew by, and, as the weather was almost always fine, Patty went scouring with Camilla every day. Sometimes she took Nan, sometimes her father, and sometimes she went all alone for short drives up and down the coast. She had no trouble with the car’s mechanism, for it was really of superior make, and its management was simple. But one afternoon, when she asked Nan to go for a little spin, Nan replied: “I will later, Patty, but first I think we ought to go and call on Miss Galbraith. It is more than a week since she was here, and, in common courtesy, we ought to return her call.”
“But I don’t like her, and I don’t want to go to see her,” declared Patty, a little petulantly.
“Don’t act like an infant! Your not liking her has nothing to do with the case. We’ve had other calls down here, and we’ve returned them properly; now this is a social duty that must be attended to, so come along.”
“Oh, Nan, you go without me! Make excuses for me, can’t you?”
“No, I can’t; and I won’t! So go and put on a pretty frock and come right along. We needn’t stay long, and we can go for a short motor ride after.”
So Patty went away to dress, for she realised that she must go, however unwillingly. She put on a pretty calling costume of white serge, with black velvet collar and cuffs, and a large black hat.
“You look lovely,” said Nan, as Patty joined her in the hall.
“Yes, I like this frock,” said Patty, “but I’m sure Miss Galbraith won’t; you know, her taste runs to more elaborate costumes.”
“Oh, well, you can’t expect to suit everybody! Come along.”
Nan herself was in pale-grey cloth, with hat to match, and the two strolled along the short distance to “Red Chimneys,” which they had learned was the name of the Galbraith home.
They turned in at the entrance gate, and saw a large and massive stone house, with many red chimneys. It was a handsome building, but over-ornate in its architecture and decoration.
“Looks exactly like Mona,” said Patty, as they drew near. “It’s just a mass of heavy embroidery!”
A footman answered their ring, and, taking their cards on his silver tray, ushered them into a drawing-room, and departed.
There was a rather long interval before Miss Galbraith appeared, and Patty fidgeted. The golden hours of her afternoon were slipping away, and she was impatient to go out with Camilla.
But presently Mona Galbraith came downstairs, and greeted them effusively. As she had been when they saw her before, she was overdressed and over-jewelled. She wore a house dress of blue satin, but so befrilled and bedecked with jabots of lace that it was not only unbeautiful, but no way did it resemble the accepted fashion of the day. An expensive and complicated necklace of turquoises surmounted the blue satin, and large-headed pins of the same blue stone adorned the piled-up masses of hair.
Patty’s secret impulse was one of regret that a fairly pretty girl could make such a dowdy of herself, and she resolved, if ever they became sufficiently well acquainted, she would try to tone down Miss Galbraith’s frantic wardrobe.
“I’m so glad to see you,” their hostess said, “and, if you hadn’t come to-day, I was going straight over to your house to tell you what I thought of you! Oh, you naughty people, to keep me waiting so long! Why didn’t you come sooner?”
“Oh there’s been much to do,” said Nan, “fitting ourselves into our new home; and, too, I think we’re fairly prompt returning your call.”
“Oh, we mustn’t make calls and return calls; that’s too formal. We’re neighbours, you know, and we must just run in and out without ceremony. Don’t you think so, Miss Fairfield? Or, mayn’t I call you Patty? Please let me.”
Patty was good-natured and kind-hearted, but she began to think that Miss Galbraith’s unwelcomed familiarity must be checked.
“Isn’t it a little soon for first names, Miss Galbraith?” she asked, with a merry smile that took the rudeness from her question. “I like to win my friendships by degrees, and not jump into them suddenly.”
But Miss Galbraith was not so easily baffled. “Oh, are you like that?” she said. “Now I’m just the opposite! I know at once if I like anybody, and I do like you, and so I’m going to call you Patty. Of course, if you’re so cautious about making friends, you’ll have to adopt me more slowly. But I’ll warrant it won’t be long before you’ll call me Mona in spite of yourself. And you, too, Mrs. Fairfield,” she added, turning to Nan.
Patty gasped, for she almost thought the forward girl was going to call Nan by her first name, but Mona did not go quite so far as that.
“You have a beautiful home here,” said Nan, in order to change the subject. “Have you lived here long?”
“This is the fourth summer,” said Mona; “my father built it, and he said he didn’t care what it cost, if only it was the most expensive house at Spring Beach.”
“I fancy he achieved his desire,” said Nan, politely.
“Oh, yes, indeed! There’s no other house been put up yet that cost nearly as much, and I don’t believe there will be.”
“Probably
