Carolyn Wells - Patty's Friends

“I wish I had a twin sister,” said Patty; “no, that wouldn’t do, either. I wish I were twins, and could be both of them myself.”

“What a sensible wish!” commented Nan. “But why do you want to double yourself up in that way?”

“So I could go to two places at once. Here I have two lovely invitations for this afternoon, and I don’t know which I want to accept most. One is a musicale at Mrs. Hastings’, and the other is a picture exhibition at the New Gallery.”

“They sound delightful. Can’t you manage to go to both?”

“No, they’re too far apart; and they’re both at four o’clock, anyway. I think I’ll choose the musicale, for I’ll surely get another chance to see the pictures.”

“Yes, of course you will,” agreed Nan, a little absently, for she was reading some newly arrived letters.

The Fairfields were in London, and were comfortably established in the Savoy Hotel. It was April, and though they intended to travel later in the summer, their plans were as yet indefinite, and they were enjoying the many and varied delights of the London season.

To be sure, Nan and Mr. Fairfield were invited to many dinners and elaborate entertainments which Patty was too young to attend, but her time was pleasantly filled with afternoon garden parties or teas, while mornings were often devoted to sight-seeing.

Patty was almost eighteen, and though not allowed quite the untrammelled freedom she would have had in America, she was not kept so utterly secluded as English girls of her age. Sometimes she would go all alone to Westminster Abbey or to the National Gallery, and enjoy hugely a solitary hour or two. At other times, Nan or her father, or some girl friend, would go with her.

The Fairfields had begun their stay in London with only a few friends, but these had introduced others, until now their circle of acquaintances was large, and the immediate result of this was a sheaf of invitations in every mail. For, during the season, Londoners are hospitable folk, and give entertainments morning, noon, and night. At first, the Fairfields had thought they would take a house, and so have a home of their own. But Mr. Fairfield concluded that if Nan had the duties of a housekeeper, her trip would not be a holiday, so he declared they would live at a large hotel, and thus have a chance to observe the gay life of London.

And so cosy and comfortable were their apartments at the Savoy, that they soon began to feel quite at home there. And Patty, as we all know, was one who could adapt herself to any mode of living.

Of a naturally happy and contented disposition, she accepted everything as it came, and enjoyed everything with the enthusiasm so often seen in American girls.

It greatly amused her to note the differences between herself and the English girls.

To her mind, they seemed to have no enthusiasm, no enterprise, and little capacity for enjoyment, while Patty enjoyed every experience that came to her, whether a visit to Windsor Castle, a day at Stratford, or a simple afternoon tea in their own rooms.

“I seem to have been set back two or three years,” she said to Nan, one day. “In New York I was almost a full-fledged young lady, but over here, I’m treated as a little girl.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Nan, sensibly. “You are what you are, and if the different countries choose to treat you differently, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

“Not a bit. I’m Patty Fairfield, and I’m almost eighteen, whether I’m in California or the Fiji Islands. But it does amuse me, the way the Londoners think we live at home. They really believe American ladies go to market in the morning, loaded down with diamonds. You don’t often see that in New York, do you, Nan?”

“No, I don’t think I ever saw a New York matron wearing elaborate jewelry to market. But then I never go to market myself, and I don’t know many people who do. I think that bediamonded marketer story is an old tradition, which is really pretty well worn out.”

“And the London ladies needn’t talk, anyway. If we did wear jewels to market, it wouldn’t be a bit more absurd than the way they dress to go shopping in the morning. Long, trailing, frilly gowns of pink and blue chiffon, with swishing lace-ruffled petticoats, that just drag through the dirt of the streets.”

“Now aren’t you criticising them as unfairly as they describe us?”

“No, for what I say is true. I’ve seen them fluttering about. And, anyway, I don’t mean to be mean. I like them lots. I just love the London ladies, they’re so kind to me, and invite me to such lovely things. Of course I don’t care if they choose to wear garden-party clothes along Bond Street. We all have some ridiculous ways.”

Pretty Patty was fond of pretty clothes, and the shops of Bond Street held great attractions for her, though she herself wore a real tailor-made costume when shopping. At first, Nan had exercised a supervision over her purchases, but Patty had shown such good taste, and such quick and unerring judgment as to fabrics and colors, that it had come about that Patty more often advised Nan in her choosing, than the other way.

And so, many a pleasant morning was spent in the beautiful London shops, buying things they wanted, looking at things they did not want, or noting with interest the ways and means peculiar to English shopkeepers.

Thus the days went happily by, and they had already been more than a fortnight in London, while as yet their plans for future travel were unmade. Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield wanted to go to Germany, Switzerland, and other countries, but Patty didn’t care so much for that as for English country, or small nearby towns. So the matter was left unsettled, though short and desultory discussions were held now and then.

But oftener their minds were taken up with the doings of the moment, and they complacently left the future to itself.

“Well, then I think I’ll go to the musicale,” said Patty. “What would you wear?”

“That new light blue chiffon of yours, with the lace bolero, is just the thing.”

“Yes, and my new broad-leafed chip hat, with the roses piled all over it.”

Patty ran away to her own room, and after a time returned in the pretty summer costume.

“How do I look?” she asked, smilingly, of Nan.

Nan smiled back at the lovely vision, for Patty’s vanity was of a mild and innocent sort, and was rather a childish delight in dainty colors and fabrics, than any conceit over her own beauty.

For beautiful Patty certainly was, in a sweet, wholesome, girlish way, and not the least of her charms was her naturalness of manner and her entire lack of self-consciousness.

She looked especially winning in the light, filmy dress, and the big hat, weighed down with roses.

“You look all right, Patty,” answered Nan. “That’s a duck of a frock, and suits you perfectly. Are you going alone?”

“Yes; father says I may go alone in our own carriage to any afternoon thing. The Hartleys will bring me home, so sha‘n’t I send the carriage back for you?”

“Yes, I wish you would. I’m going to a tea or two, and then we’re dining out. You’re to dine with the Hartleys, aren’t you?”

“Yes, if it is dinner. It’s more likely to be schoolroom tea. Mabel Hartley is sixteen, but I doubt if she’s allowed at dinner yet.”

“Nonsense, of course she is. Well, then, if they’re sending you home, Louise needn’t go after you?”

“No; they’ll send somebody. Good-bye, Nan.”

“Good-bye, Patty. Have a lovely time.”

“Oh, yes; I always do.”

Away went Patty and her frills, and when she reached Chesterton Mansions, she was soon established under the wing of her hostess, Mrs. Hastings.