Kitabı oku: «Patty's Summer Days», sayfa 6
CHAPTER XI
DICK PHELPS
The travellers did not rise early the next morning, and ten o’clock found them still seated at the breakfast table.
“I do hate to hurry,” said Mrs. Farrington, comfortably sipping her coffee. “So many people think that an automobile tour means getting up early, and hustling off at daybreak.”
“I’m glad those are your sentiments,” said Patty, “for I quite agree with you. I’ve done enough hustling the last month or two, and I’m delighted to take things more slowly for a change.”
“I think,” said Mr. Farrington, “that as it is such a pleasant day, it would be a good plan to take some luncheon with us and picnic by the roadside. We could then get to the Warners’in time for dinner, though perhaps a little late.”
“Lovely!” cried Elise, “I’m perfectly crazy to use that new luncheon-kit. It’s great, Patty! It has the cunningest alcohol stove, and every little contraption you could possibly think of.”
“I know it,” said Patty. “I peeped inside yesterday, and the array of forks and spoons and plates and bottles was perfectly fascinating.”
“Very well,” said Mrs. Farrington to her husband, “ask them to fill the kit properly, and I think myself we will enjoy a little picnic.”
So Mr. Farrington went to see about the provisions, and Roger to get the car ready, while the ladies sauntered about the piazza.
The route of their journey lay along the shore of Long Island Sound, and the hotel where they had stayed over night was not far from New Haven, and quite near the water’s edge.
Patty was very fond of the water, and gazed with delight at the sparkling Sound, dotted with white steamers and various sorts of fishing-craft. For her part she would have been glad to stay longer at this hotel, but the Warners, whom they were going to visit, were expecting them to dinner that evening. These people, Patty knew, lived in a beautiful country place called “Pine Branches,” which was near Springfield in Massachusetts. Patty did not know the Warners, but Elise had assured her that they were delightful people and were prepared to give her a warm welcome.
When the car came to the door the ladies were all ready to continue the journey. They had again donned their queer-looking motor-clothes, and though Patty was beginning to get used to their appearance, they still seemed to her like a trio of brownies or other queer beings as they took their seats in the car.
Roger climbed to his place, touched a lever by his side, and swung the car down the drive with an air of what seemed to Patty justifiable pride. The freshly cleaned car was so daintily spick and span, the day was so perfect, and the merry-hearted passengers in such a gay and festive mood, that there was indeed reason for a feeling of general satisfaction.
Away they went at a rapid speed, which Patty thought must be beyond the allowed limit, but Roger assured her to the contrary.
For many miles their course lay along a fine road which followed the shore of the Sound. This delighted Patty, as she was still able to gaze out over the blue water, and at the same time enjoy the wonderful motion of the car.
But soon their course changed and they turned inland, on the road to Hartford. Patty was surprised at Roger’s knowledge of the way, but the young man was well provided with road maps and guidebooks, of which he had made careful study.
“How beautifully the car goes,” said Patty. “It doesn’t make the least fuss, even on the upgrades.”
“You must learn the vocabulary, Patty,” said Roger. “When a machine goes smoothly as The Fact is doing now, the proper expression is that it runs sweetly.”
“Sweetly!” exclaimed Patty. “How silly. It sounds like a gushing girl.”
“That doesn’t matter,” said Roger, serenely. “If you go on motor trips, you must learn to talk motor-jargon.”
“All right,” said Patty, “I’m willing to learn, and I do think the way this car goes it is just too sweet for anything!”
They all laughed at this, but their gaiety was short-lived, for just then there was a peculiar crunching sound that seemed to mean disaster, judging from the expressions of dismay on the faces of the Farrington family.
“What is it?” asked Patty, forgetting that she had been told never to ask questions on such occasions.
“Patty,” said Roger, making a comical face at her, “my countenance now presents an expression typical of disgust, irritation, and impatience. I now wave my right hand thus, which is a Delsarte gesture expressing exasperation with a trace of anger. I next give voice to my sentiments, merely to remark in my usual calm and disinterested way, that a belt has broken and the mending thereof will consume a portion of time, the length of which may be estimated only after it has elapsed.”
Patty laughed heartily at this harangue, but gathered from Roger’s nonsense the interesting fact that an accident had occurred, and that a delay was inevitable. Nobody seemed especially surprised. Indeed, they took it quite as a matter of course, and Mrs. Farrington opened a new magazine which she had brought with her, and calmly settled herself to read.
But Elise said, “Well, I’m already starving with hunger, and I think we may as well open that kit of provisions, and have our picnic right here, while Roger is mending the belt.”
“Elise,” said her father jestingly, “you sometimes show signs of almost human intelligence! Your plan is a positive inspiration, for I confess that I myself feel the gnawings of hunger. Let us eat the hard-boiled eggs and ham sandwiches that we have with us, and then if we like, we can stop at Hartford this afternoon for a more satisfying lunch, as I begin to think we will not reach Pine Branches until sometime later than their usual dinner hour.”
They all agreed to this plan, and Roger, with his peculiar sensitiveness toward being discovered with his car at a disadvantage, said seriously: “I see a racing machine coming, and when it passes us I hope you people will act as if we had stopped here only to lunch, and not because this ridiculous belt chose to break itself just now.”
This trait of Roger’s amused Patty very much, but she was quite ready to humour her friend, and agreed to do her part.
She looked where Roger had indicated, and though she could see what looked like a black speck on a distant road, she wondered how Roger could know it was a racing machine that was approaching. However, she realised that there were many details of motoring of which she had as yet no idea, and she turned her attention to helping the others spread out the luncheon. The beautifully furnished basket was a delight to Patty. She was amazed to see how cleverly a large amount of paraphernalia could be stowed in a small amount of space. The kit was arranged for six persons, and contained half-dozens of knives, forks, spoons, and even egg-spoons; also plates, cups, napkins, and everything with which to serve a comfortable meal. There were sandwich-boxes, salad-boxes, butter-jars, tea and coffee cans, salt, pepper, and all necessary condiments. Then there was the alcohol stove, with its water-kettle and chafing dish. At the sight of all these things, which seemed to come out of the kit as out of a magician’s hat, Patty’s eyes danced.
“Let me cook,” she begged, and Mrs. Farrington and Elise were only too glad to be relieved of this duty.
There wasn’t much cooking to do, as sandwiches, cold meats, salad, and sweets were lavishly provided, but Patty made tea, and then boiled a few eggs just for the fun of doing it.
Preparations for the picnic were scarcely under way when the racing-car that Roger had seen in the distance came near them. There was a whirring sound as it approached, and Patty glanced up from her alcohol stove to see that it was occupied by only one man. He was slowing speed, and evidently intended to stop. Long before he had reached them, Roger had hidden his tools, and though his work on the broken belt was not completed, he busied himself with the luncheon preparations, as if that was his sole thought.
The racing-car stopped and the man who was driving it got out.
At sight of him Patty with difficulty restrained her laughter, for though their own garb was queer, it was rational compared to the appearance of this newcomer.
A racing suit is, with perhaps the exception of a diver’s costume, the most absurd-looking dress a man can get into. The stranger’s suit was of black rubber, tightly strapped at the wrists and ankles, but it was his head-gear which gave the man his weird and uncanny effect. It was a combination of mask, goggles, hood, earflaps, and neckshield which was so arranged with hinges that the noseguard and mouthpiece worked independently of each other.
At any rate, it seemed to Patty the funniest show she had ever seen, and she couldn’t help laughing. The man didn’t seem to mind, however, and after he had bowed silently for a moment or two with great enjoyment of their mystification, he pulled off his astonishing head-gear and disclosed his features.
“Dick Phelps!” exclaimed Mr. Farrington, “why, how are you, old man? I’m right down glad to see you!”
Mr. Phelps was a friend of the Farrington family, and quite naturally they invited him to lunch with them.
“Indeed I will,” said the visitor, “for I started at daybreak, and I’ve had nothing to eat since. I can’t tarry long though, as I must make New York City to-night.”
Mr. Phelps was a good-looking young man of about thirty years, and so pleased was he with Patty’s efforts in the cooking line, that he ate all the eggs she had boiled, and drank nearly all the tea, besides making serious inroads on the viands they had brought with them.
“It doesn’t matter if I do eat up all your food,” said the young man, pleasantly, “for you can stop anywhere and get more, but I mustn’t stop again until I reach the city, and I probably won’t have a chance to eat then, as I must push on to Long Island.”
The Farringtons were quite willing to refresh the stranger within their gates, and they all enjoyed the merry little picnic.
“Where are you bound?” asked Mr. Phelps as he prepared to continue his way.
“To Pine Branches first,” said Mrs. Farrington, “the country house of a friend. It’s near Springfield, and from there we shall make short trips, and later on, continue our way in some other direction,—which way we haven’t yet decided.”
“Good enough,” said Mr. Phelps, “then I’ll probably see you again. I am often a guest at Pine Branches myself, and shall hope to run across you.”
As every motorist is necessarily interested in his friend’s car, Mr. Phelps naturally turned to inspect the Farrington machine before getting into his own.
And so, to Roger’s chagrin, he was obliged to admit that he was even then under the necessity of mending a broken belt.
But to Roger’s relief, Mr. Phelps took almost no notice of it, merely saying that a detail defect was liable to happen to anybody. He looked over the vital parts of the motor, and complimented Roger on its fine condition. This pleased the boy greatly, and resuming his work after Mr. Phelps’ departure, he patched up the belt, while the others repacked the kit, and soon they started off again.
Swiftly and smoothly they ran along over the beautiful roads, occasionally meeting other touring-parties apparently as happy as they were themselves. Sometimes they exchanged merry greetings as they passed, for all motorists belong to one great, though unorganised, fraternity.
“I’ve already discovered that trifling accidents are a part of the performance, and I’ve also discovered that they’re easily remedied and soon over, and that when they are over they are quickly forgotten and it seems impossible that they should ever occur again.”
“You’ve sized it up pretty fairly, Patty,” said Roger, “and though I never before thought it out for myself, I agree with you that that is the true way to look at it.”
On they went, leaving the miles behind them, and as Roger was anxious to make up for lost time he went at a slightly higher speed than he would have otherwise done. He slowed down, however, when they passed horses or when they went through towns or villages.
Patty was greatly interested in the many small villages through which they rode, as nearly every one showed quaint or humorous scenes. Dogs would come out and bark at them, children would scream after them, and even the grown-up citizens of the hamlets would stare at them as if they had never seen a motor-car before, though Patty reasoned that surely many of them must have travelled that same road.
“When you meet another village, Roger,” she said, “do go through it more slowly, for I like to see the funny people.”
“Very well,” said Roger, “you may stop and get a drink at the town pump, if you like.”
“No, thank you,” said Patty, “I don’t want to get out, but I would like to stop a minute or two in one of them.”
Roger would willingly have granted Patty’s wish, but he was deprived of this privilege by the car itself. Just as they neared a small settlement known as Huntley’s Corners, another ominous sound from the machine gave warning.
“That belt again!” exclaimed Roger. “Patty, the probabilities are that you’ll have all the time you want to study up this village, and even learn the life history of the oldest inhabitant.”
“What an annoying belt it is,” said Mrs. Farrington in her pleasant way. “Don’t you think, Roger dear, that you had better get a new belt and be done with it?”
“That’s just what I do think, Mother, but somehow I can’t persuade myself that they keep them for sale at this corner grocery.”
The car had reached the only store in the settlement, and stopped almost in front of it.
Patty was beginning to learn the different kinds of stops that a motor-car can make, and she felt pretty sure that this was not a momentary pause, but a stop that threatened a considerable delay.
She said as much to Roger, and he replied, “Patty, you’re an apt pupil. The Fact has paused here not for a day, but for all time, unless something pretty marvellous can be done in the way of belt mending!”
Patty began to think that accidents were of somewhat frequent occurrence, but Elise said, cheerfully, “This seems to be an off day. Why, sometimes we run sweetly for a week, without a word from the belt. Don’t we, Roger?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Roger, “but Patty may as well get used to the seamy side of motoring, and learn to like it.”
“I do like it,” declared Patty, “and if we are going to take up our abode here for the present, I’m going out to explore the town.”
She jumped lightly from the car, and, accompanied by Elise, strolled down the main, and, indeed, the only street of the village.
CHAPTER XII
OLD CHINA
A few doors away from the country store in front of which the automobile stood, the girls saw a quaint old house, with a few toys and candies displayed for sale in a front window.
“Isn’t it funny?” said Elise, looking in at the unattractive collection. “See that old-fashioned doll, and just look at that funny jumping-jack!”
“Yes,” said Patty, whose quick eye had caught sight of something more interesting, “but just look at that plate of peppermint candies. The plate, I mean. Why, Elise, it’s a Millennium plate!”
“What’s that?” said Elise, looking blank.
“A Millennium plate? Why, Elise, it’s about the most valuable bit of old china there is in this country! Why, Nan would go raving crazy over that. I’d rather take it home to her than any present I could buy in the city shop. Elise, do you suppose whoever keeps this little store would sell that plate?”
“No harm in trying,” said Elise, “there’s plenty of time, for it will take Roger half an hour to fix that belt. Let’s go in and ask her.”
“No, no,” said Patty, “that isn’t the way. Wait a minute. I’ve been china hunting before, with Nan, and with other people, and you mustn’t go about it like that. We must go in as if we were going to buy some of her other goods, and then we’ll work around to the plate by degrees. You buy something else, Elise, and leave the plate part to me.”
“Very well, I think I’ll buy that rag doll, though I’m sure I don’t know what I’ll ever do with it. No self-respecting child would accept it as a gift.”
“Well, buy something,” said Patty, as they went in.
The opening of the door caused a big bell to jingle, and this apparently called an old woman in from the back room. She was not very tidy, but she was a good-natured body, and smiled pleasantly at the two girls.
“What is it, young ladies?” she asked, “can I sell you anything to-day?”
“Yes,” said Elise, gravely, “I was passing your window, and I noticed a doll there,—that one with the blue gingham dress. How much is it, please?”
“That one,” said the old lady, “is fifty cents. Seems sorter high, I know, but that ’ere doll was made by a blind girl, that lives a piece up the road; and though the sewin’ ain’t very good, it’s a nine-days’ wonder that she can do it at all. And them dolls is her only support, and land knows she don’t sell hardly any!”
“I’ll give you a dollar for it,” said Elise, impulsively, for her generous heart was touched. “Have you any more of them?”
“No,” said the woman, in some amazement. “Malviny, she don’t make many, ’cause they don’t sell very rapid. But be you goin’ her way? She might have one to home, purty nigh finished.”
“I don’t know,” said Elise, “where does she live?”
“Straight along, on the main road. You can’t miss it, an old yaller house, with the back burnt off.”
It was Patty’s turn now, and she said she would buy the peppermint candies that were in the window.
“All of ’em?” asked the storekeeper, in surprise.
“Yes,” said Patty, “all of them,” and as the old woman lifted the plate in from the window, Patty added, “And if you care to part with it, I’ll buy the plate too.”
“Land, Miss, that ’ere old plate ain’t no good; it’s got a crack in it, but if so be’s you admire that pattern, I’ve got another in the keeping-room that’s just like it, only ’tain’t cracked. ’Tain’t even chipped.”
“Would you care to part with them both?” asked Patty, remembering that this phrase was the preferred formula of all china hunters.
“Laws, yes, Miss, if you care to pay for ’em. Of course, I can’t sell ’em for nothin’, for there’s sometimes ladies as comes here, as has a fancy to them old things. But these two plates is so humbly, that I didn’t have the face to show ’em to anybody as was lookin’ for anteeks.”
Patty’s sense of honesty would not allow her to ignore the old woman’s mistake.
“They may seem homely to you,” she said, “but I think it only right to tell you that these plates are probably the most valuable of any you have ever owned.”
“Well, for the land o’ goodness, ef you ain’t honest! ’Tain’t many as would speak up like that! Jest come in the back room, and look at the other plate.”
The girls followed the old woman as she raised a calico curtain of a flowered pattern, and let them through into the “keeping-room.”
“There,” she said with some pride as she took down a plate from the high mantel. “There, you can see for yourself, there ain’t no chip or crack into it.”
Sure enough, Patty held in her hand a perfect specimen of the Millennium plate, so highly prized by collectors, and there was also the one she had seen in the window, which though slightly cracked, was still in fair condition.
“How much do you want for them?” asked Patty.
The old woman hesitated. It was not difficult to see that, although she wanted to get as high a price as possible for her plates, yet she did not want to ask so much that Patty would refuse to take them.
“You tell me,” she said, insinuatingly, “’bout what you think them plates is worth.”
“No,” said Patty, firmly, “I never buy things that way. You tell me your price, and then I will buy them or not as I choose.”
“Well,” said the old woman, slowly, “the last lady that I sold plates to, she give me fifty cents apiece for three of ’em, and though I think they was purtier than these here, yet you tell me these is more vallyble, and so,” here the old woman made a great show of firmness, “and so my price for these plates is a dollar apiece.”
As soon as she had said it, she looked at Patty in alarm, greatly fearing that she would not pay so much.
But Patty replied, “I will give you five dollars for the two,—because I know that is nearer their value than the price you set.”
“Bless your good heart, and your purty face, Miss,” said the old woman, as the tears came into her eyes. “I’m that obliged to you! I’ll send the money straight to my son John. He’s in the hospital, poor chap, and he needs it sore.”
Elise had rarely been brought in contact with poverty and want, and her generous heart was touched at once. She emptied her little purse out upon the table, and was rejoiced to discover that it contained something over ten dollars.
“Please accept that,” she cried, “to buy things for your son, or for yourself, as you choose.”
The old woman was quite overcome at this kindness, and was endeavouring brokenly to express her thanks, when the bell on the shop door jangled loudly.
Patty being nearest to the calico curtain drew it aside, to find Roger in the little shop, looking very breathless and worried.
“Well, of all things,” he exclaimed. “You girls have given us a scare. We’ve hunted high and low through the whole of this metropolis. And if it hadn’t been that a little girl said she saw you come in here, I suppose we’d now be dragging the brook. Come along, quick, we’re all ready to start.”
“How could you get that belt mended so quickly?” asked Elise.
“Never mind that,” said Roger, “just come along.”
“Wait a minute,” said Patty, hastily gathering up her precious plates, while the old woman provided some newspaper wrapping.
Roger hurried the two girls back to the motor-car, saying as they went, “We’re not in any hurry to start, but Mother thinks you’re drowned, and I want to prove to her that she is mistaken.”
The sight of the car caused Patty to go off into peals of laughter.
In front of the beautiful machine was an old farm wagon, and in front of that were four horses. On the seat of the wagon sat a nonchalant-looking farmer who seemed to take little interest in the proceedings.
“I wouldn’t ask what’s the matter for anything,” said Patty, looking at Roger, demurely, “but I suppose I am safe in assuming that you have those horses there merely because you think they look well.”
“That’s it,” said Roger. “Nothing adds to the good effect of a motor-car like having a few fine horses attached to it. Jump in, girls.”
The girls jumped in, and the caravan started. It was at a decidedly different rate of speed from the way they had travelled before. But Patty soon learned that Roger had found it impossible to fix the belt without going to a repair shop, and there was none nearer than Hartford. With some difficulty, and at considerable expense, he had persuaded the gruff old farmer to tow them over the intervening ten miles.
Patty would have supposed that this would greatly humiliate the proud and sensitive boy, but, to her surprise, Roger treated the affair as a good joke. He leaned back in his seat, apparently pleased with his enforced idleness, and chatted merrily as they slowly crawled along. Occasionally he would plead with the old farmer to urge his horses a trifle faster, and even hint at certain rewards if they should reach Hartford in a given time. But the grumpy old man was proof against coaxing or even bribing, and they jogged along, almost at a snail’s pace.
Perceiving that there was no way of improving the situation, Roger gave up trying, and turning partly around in his seat, proceeded to entertain the girls to the best of his ability.
Patty hadn’t known before what a jolly, good-natured boy Elise’s brother was, and she came to the conclusion that he had a good sense of proportion, to be able to take things so easily, and to keep his temper under such trying circumstances.
Only once did the surly old farmer address himself to his employers. Turning around to face the occupants of the motor-car he bawled out:
“Whar do ye wanter go in Hartford?”
“To the largest repair shop for automobiles,” answered Roger.
“Thought ye wanted ter go ter the State Insane Asylum,” was the response to this, and a suppressed chuckle could be heard, as the old man again turned his attention to his not over-speedy steeds.
Though not a very subtle jest, this greatly amused the motor party, and soon they entered the outskirts of the beautiful city of Hartford.
Mr. Farrington looked at his watch. “I suppose,” he said, “it will take the best part of an hour to have the machine attended to, for there are two or three little matters which I want to have put in order, besides the belt. I will stay and look after it, and the rest of you can take your choice of two proceedings. One is, to go to a hotel, rest and freshen yourselves up a bit, and have some luncheon. The other is, to take a carriage and drive around the city. Hartford is a beautiful place, and if Patty has never seen it, I am sure she will enjoy it.”
“It doesn’t matter to me,” said Mrs. Farrington, “which we do; but I’m quite sure I don’t care to eat anything more just at present. We had our picnic not so very long ago, you know.”
“I know,” said Mr. Farrington, “but consider this. When we start from here with the car in good order, I hope to run straight through to Warner’s. But at best we cannot reach there before ten o’clock to-night. So it’s really advisable that you should fortify yourselves against the long ride, for I should hate to delay matters further by stopping again for dinner.”
“Ten o’clock!” exclaimed Mrs. Farrington, “why, they expect us by seven, at latest. It is too bad to keep them waiting like that. Can’t we telephone to them?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Farrington, “and I will attend to that while I am waiting for the car to be fixed. Now what would you people rather do?”
Both the girls declared they could not eat another luncheon at present, and they thought it would be delightful to drive around and see the town.
So Mrs. Farrington settled the matter by deciding to take the drive. And then she said, “We can leave the luncheon-kit at some hotel to be filled, then we can pick it up again, and take it along with us, and when we get hungry we can eat a light supper in the car.”
“Great head, Mother!” cried Roger, “you are truly a genius!”
An open landau was engaged, and Roger and the three ladies started for the drive. They spent a delightful hour viewing the points of interest in the city, which the obliging driver pointed out to them.
They smiled when they came to the Insane Asylum, and though the grounds looked attractive, they concluded not to go there to stay, even though their old farmer friend had seemed to think it an appropriate place for them.
“It’s a strange thing,” said Roger, “that people who do not ride in automobiles always think that people who do are crazy. I’m sure I don’t know why.”
“I wouldn’t blame anybody for thinking Mr. Phelps crazy, if they had seen him this morning,” said Patty.
“That’s only because you’re not accustomed to seeing men in racing costume,” said Roger. “After you’ve seen a few more rigs like that, you won’t think anything of them.”
“That’s so,” said Patty thoughtfully, “and if I had never before seen a farmer in the queer overalls, and big straw hat, that our old country gentleman wore, I daresay I should have thought his appearance quite as crazy as that of Mr. Phelps.”
“You have a logical mind, Patty,” said Mrs. Farrington, “and on the whole I think you are right.”
