Carolyn Wells - Patty's Social Season

“If there’s anything I hate,” declared Patty, “it’s a squabble. Whatever else we girls do, let’s try not to have any friction. Now, I know perfectly well that none of us four is very meek or mild.”

“I am,” declared Elise, assuming an angelic expression, which made them all laugh, for Elise was really the one most likely to take offence at trifles, or to flare up impulsively if any one disagreed with her.

Patty knew this only too well, and was trying to forestall it by a preliminary treaty of peace.

“Well, then, let’s be an organisation that doesn’t organise,” said Mona, “but let’s be it now .”

“I think,” said Patty, “that our end and aim ought to be to do good to somebody who doesn’t expect it. Now, that isn’t quite what I mean,—I mean to people who wouldn’t accept it if it seemed like charity, but to whom we could give a pleasure that they would really like.”

“Patty, my child,” said Clementine, “I think your ideas are all right, but I must say you don’t express them very clearly. Let’s get down to something definite. Do you mean to give material things,—like presents or money?”

“That’s just exactly what I don’t mean, Clem! Don’t you remember that little club we used to have at school,—the Merry Grigs?”

“Indeed I do! All we had to do was to be merry and gay.”

“Well, that’s what I mean,—in a way,—if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, Patty,” cried Mona, “I never knew you to be so hopelessly vague. Now, for instance, how would it be if we gave a lovely motor ride to some poor shop girl, or somebody that never gets into a motor?”

“That’s it!” cried Clementine, approvingly; “I was thinking of sending flowers to hospitals, but that’s so general. Now, your suggestion, Mona, is definite, and just the right sort of thing.”

“But aren’t we going to have a president and treasurer, and things like that?” asked Elise.

“No,” said Patty; “my mind is clearing now, and I begin to see our club. Instead of a president, we’ll all four be presidents, and instead of a treasurer, we’ll all four be treasurers. We’ll give money when it’s necessary, or we’ll use our motor cars, or buy flowers, or whatever we like; but we won’t have dues and officers and things.”

“But the shop girls are always busy; how can we take them motoring?” asked Elise.

“That was only a suggestion,” said Mona; “it needn’t be exactly a shop girl; but anybody we know of, who would enjoy a little unexpected pleasure.”

“The principle is exactly right,” said Clementine; “now, let’s get it down to practicability. As Mona says, we needn’t necessarily choose a shop girl,—but suppose we do, many of them are free Saturday afternoon.”

“Only in the summer time,” objected Elise.

“Yes, perhaps, in the big shops; but there are lots of them, in offices,—or even school teachers,—who would be free Saturday afternoons. Well, anyway, here’s what I’m thinking of, and you can all say what you think of it. Suppose we try, every week, to give a happy Saturday afternoon to somebody who wouldn’t have it otherwise.”

“The Happy Saturday Afternoon Club!” cried Patty; “that’s a lovely name! let’s do it!”

“But,” said Elise, “that would mean giving up our Saturday afternoons. Do we want to do that? What about matinées?”

“I think we ought to be willing to sacrifice something,” said Patty, thoughtfully; “but I do love Saturday matinées.”

“Oh, if there’s anything especial, we needn’t consider ourselves bound to give up the afternoon,” said Clementine. “For that matter, we could send a couple of girls for a motor ride without going ourselves.”

“But that’s more like charity,” objected Patty: “I meant to go with them, and be real nice and pleasant with them, and make a bright spot in their lives that they would always remember.”

“They’d always remember you, Patty, if you were the bright spot,” declared Mona, who idolised her friend. “But I must confess I do like to be definite about this thing. Now, how’s this for a plan? To-day’s Thursday. Suppose we begin on Saturday and make a start at something. Suppose we each of us pick out a girl,—or a boy, for that matter,—or a child or anybody, and think what we can do to make them happy on Saturday afternoon.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” said Elise, approvingly. “I’ve picked mine already. She’s a girl who comes to our house quite often to sew for the children. She’s a sweet little thing, but she looks as if she never had a real good time in all her life. Now, can the rest of you think of anybody like that?”

“Yes, I have one,” said Mona. “Your suggestion made me think of her. She’s my manicure girl. She comes here, and sometimes she’s so tired she’s ready to drop! She works awfully hard, and never takes a day off, because she has to support two little sisters. But I’ll make her take a holiday Saturday afternoon, somehow.”

“There’s a girl I’d like to have,” said Clementine, thoughtfully; “she’s at the ribbon counter in Walker’s. She always waits on me there; and she has such a wistful air, I’d like to do her a kindness. I don’t suppose she could get off,—but I could go and ask the head of the department, and perhaps he’d let her.”

“I can’t think of anybody,” said Patty, “except one person, that I would simply love to have. And that’s a very tired and cross-looking lady who gives out embroidery patterns in a dreadful place, way down town. I believe it would sweeten her up for a year to have a little spree with us.”

“All right,” said Mona. “Now we have selected our guests, what shall we do with them? Say, a motor ride and a cup of tea afterward in some pretty tea room?”

“I think,” said Elise, “that we’d better give them luncheon first. They can’t enjoy a motor ride if they’re hungry, and they probably will be.”

“Luncheon where?” said Patty, looking puzzled; “at one of our houses?”

“I could have them here, easily enough,” said Mona. “Our dining-room here, would really be better than any of the homes of you girls. Because you all have people, and I haven’t. Father would just as lieve lunch downstairs, in the main dining-room.”

“That’s lovely of you, Mona,” said Patty. “I was going to suggest some small, quiet restaurant, but a luncheon here in your pretty dining-room would indeed be a bright spot for them to remember. But suppose they won’t come?”

“Then we must ask someone instead,” said Clementine; “let’s promise each to bring someone with us on Saturday, and if the first one we ask declines, keep on asking till we get somebody. Of course, Mona, we’ll share the expense of the luncheon equally.”

“Nonsense,” returned Mona; “I’ll be glad to give that.”

“No,” said Patty, firmly; “we’ll each pay a quarter of whatever the luncheon costs. And let’s have it good and substantial, and yet have some pretty, fancy things too. For, you know, this isn’t a charity or a soup kitchen,—it’s to give those girls a bright and beautiful scene to look back on.”

“Oh, it will be lovely!” cried Mona. “I’ll have pretty place cards, and favours, and everything.”

“But we mustn’t overdo it,” said Clementine.

“You know, to the unaccustomed, an elaborate table may prove embarrassing.”

“That will be all right,” said Patty, smiling. “Mona can fix her table, and I’ll come over before the luncheon, and if she has too many or too grand flumadiddles, I’ll take some of them off. I don’t want our guests struck dumb by too much grandeur, but I do want things pretty and nice. Suppose we each bring a favor for our own guest.”