Then Patty gave her father a gold penholder, which she had had made expressly for him, and engraved with his name.
“Why, that’s fine, Pattykins!” he exclaimed. “I can only write poems with a pen like that. It’s not made for business letters, I’m sure.”
“Of course it isn’t,” said Patty, gaily; “it’s to keep on your desk in the library here at home. And you must use it just for social correspondence or–”
“Or to sign checks for us,” suggested Nan, smiling.
“That’s just what I’ll do with it,” declared Mr. Fairfield. “It’s a gem of a pen; Patty, you know my weakness for fine desk appointments, don’t you?”
Nan gave her husband a watch fob, on which hung a locket containing a miniature of her own sweet face. Neither Patty nor her father had seen this before, as Nan had been careful to keep the matter secret in order to surprise them.
It was a real work of art, and so winsome was the pictured face that Patty cried out in admiration: “What a stunner you are, Nan! I didn’t realise you were so good-looking,—but it’s exactly like you.”
“That’s a mixed-up compliment, Patty,” laughed Nan, “but I’ll surmise that you mean well.”
“I do so! I think it’s a lovely picture of a lovely lady! There, how’s that?”
“Much better,” said Nan, as Patty caught her round the shoulders and kissed her affectionately.
“Give me the lady,” said Mr. Fairfield, taking Nan into his own arms. “As the portrait is a gift to me, I will kiss her for it, myself.”
“Do,” said Patty, “but if you give her more than three kisses, you’ll lose your train; it’s getting pretty late.”
“Is it?” cried Mr. Fairfield. “Then, Jane, bring in those two boxes I left in your charge, will you?”
“Yes, sir,” cried the waitress, and, leaving the room, she returned in a moment with two large white boxes.
“These are Christmas gifts to the two loveliest ladies I know,” said Mr. Fairfield, gallantly tendering a box to each.
“But I’ve had my Christmas gift from you!” exclaimed Patty, and “So have I!” cried Nan.
“Nevertheless these are laid at your feet,” said Mr. Fairfield, calmly depositing the boxes on the floor in front of them.
“Oh, well, we may as well see what they are,” said Patty, untying the white ribbons that fastened her box.
Nan did likewise, and in a moment they were both rapturously exclaiming over two sets of white furs that nestled in billows of white tissue paper.
Nan’s furs were ermine, and Patty’s were soft, fluffy, white fox, and so beautiful were they that the two recipients donned them at once, and posed side by side before the mirror, admiring themselves and each other. Then, with a simultaneous impulse they turned to thank the donor, and Mr. Fairfield found himself suddenly entangled in four arms and two boas, while two immense muffs met at the back of his neck and enveloped his head and ears.
“Have mercy!” he cried; “come one at a time, can’t you? Yes, yes, I’m glad you’re pleased, but do get this fur out of my mouth! I feel as if I were attacked by polar bears!”
“Oh, Fathery Fairfield,” Patty cried, “you are the dearest thing in the world! How did you know I wanted furs? And white fox, of all things! And ermine for Nan! Oh, but you are a good gentleman! Isn’t he, stepmother?”
“He’ll do,” said Nan, smiling roguishly at her husband, who, somehow, seemed satisfied with this faint praise.
“Now, scamper, Nan-girl,” he cried, “if you would see your mother to-day, you must leave here in less than an hour. Can you be ready?”
“I can’t, but I will,” replied Nan, gaily, as she ran away to prepare for her journey.
Patty, too, went to her room to get ready for her visit at the Farringtons’. She was to stay three days, and as there were several parties planned for her entertainment, she packed a small trunk with several of her prettiest gowns. Also, she had a suitcase full of gifts for the Christmas tree, which was to be part of the festivities.
She bade her parents good-by when they started, and watched the new motor-car disappear round the corner, then returned to her own preparations.
“I do have lovely things,” she thought to herself, as she folded her dainty garments and laid them in their places.
Then she glanced again at her new furs.
“I have too much,” she thought; “it isn’t fair for one girl to have so much, when so many poor people have nothing. I wonder what I ought to do about it.”
Poor Patty was confronting the problem that has troubled and baffled so many honest hearts, but the more she thought about it, the more it seemed insoluble.
“At any rate, it would be absurd to give my white furs, or my chiffon frocks to poor people,” she concluded, “for they couldn’t use them. Well, after the holidays, I’m going to see what I can do. But now, I must hurry, or I’ll be late.”
An hour or two later, she found herself in the Farringtons’ home.
“What lovely furs, Patty,” exclaimed Mrs. Farrington, “and how well they suit you!”
They were extremely becoming, and Patty’s pretty face, with its soft colour and smiling eyes, rose like a flower from the white fur at her throat.
“Yes, aren’t they beautiful?” Patty responded. “Father just gave them to me, and I’m so pleased with them.”
“And well you may be. Now, you girls run away and play, for I’ve a thousand things to do.”
Indeed, Mrs. Farrington was in a whirlpool of presents that she was both sending and receiving. Maids and footmen were running hither and thither, bringing messages or carrying out orders, and as the whole house was full of warmth and light, and the spicy fragrance of Christmas greens, Patty fairly revelled in the pleasant atmosphere.
She was of a nature very susceptible to surroundings. Like a cat, she loved to bask in warm sunshine, or in a luxurious, softly-furnished place. Moreover, she was fond of Elise, and so looked forward to her three days’ visit with glad anticipation.
After Patty had laid aside her things, the two girls sat down to chat in the big hall on the second floor of the mansion. A wood-fire was blazing, and soft, red-shaded lights cast a delightful glow.
“Elise,” said Patty, somewhat suddenly, “don’t you think we have too much riches and things?”
Elise stared at her.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Patty laughed at her friend’s blank expression, but she went on.
“I mean just what I say. Of course, you have lots more riches and things than I have; but I think we all have too much when we think of the poor people who haven’t any.”
“Oh, you mean Socialism,” exclaimed Elise, suddenly enlightened.
“No, I don’t mean Socialism. I mean plain, every-day charity. Don’t you think we ought to give away more?”
“Why, yes, if you like,” said Elise, who was greatly puzzled. “Do you want me to subscribe to some charity? I will.”
“Well, perhaps I’ll hold you to that,” said Patty, slowly; “for after the holidays I’m going to try to do something in the matter. I don’t know just what; I haven’t thought it out yet. But I’m not going to be what my father calls a ‘mere social butterfly,’ and I don’t believe you want to, either.”
“No, I don’t; but do leave it all till after the holidays, Patty, for now I want you to help me with some Christmas presents.”
Elise looked so worried and so beseeching that Patty laughed. Then she kissed her, and said: “All right, Lisa mine. Command me. My services are at your disposal.”
So the girls went up to the Sun Parlour, where Elise had all her choicest belongings, and where she now had her array of Christmas gifts.
The room was entirely of glass, and by a careful arrangement of double panes and concealed heat-pipes, was made comfortable even in the coldest weather. Flowers and plants were round the sides; birds in gilt cages sang and twittered; and gilt wicker furniture gave the place a dainty French effect that was charming. On the tables were strewn Christmas gifts of all sorts.
“I’m just tying up the last ones,” said Elise. “Don’t be afraid to look; yours is safely hidden away. Now, here’s what I want to know.”
She picked up a gold seal ring, which, however, had no crest or monogram cut on it,—and a bronze paper cutter.
“They’re lovely,” said Patty, as she looked at them. “Who catches these?”
“That’s just what I don’t know. I bought the ring for Roger and the paper cutter for Kenneth Harper; he’s coming to-night. But I’d like to change them about and give the ring to Ken, and the paper knife to Roger. Would you?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” said Patty, bluntly. “Why do you want to do such a thing?”
“The ring is much the handsomer gift,” said Elise, who had turned a trifle pink.
“Of course it is,” said Patty, “and that’s why you should give it to your brother. It’s too personal a gift to give to a boy friend.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Elise, with a little sigh. “But Roger won’t care for it at all, and Kenneth would like it heaps.”
“Because you gave it to him?” asked Patty, quickly.
“Oh, I don’t know. Yes, perhaps so.”
“Nonsense, Elise! You’re too young to give rings to young men.”
“Ken isn’t a young man, he’s only a boy.”
“Well, he’s over twenty-one; and anyway, I know it wouldn’t be right for you to give him a ring. Your mother wouldn’t like it at all.”
“Oh, she wouldn’t care.”
“Well, she ought to, and I think she would. Now, don’t be silly; give the ring to Roger, and if you want something grander than this bronze jig for Ken, get him a book. As handsome a book as you choose; but a book. Or something that’s impersonal. Not a ring or a watch-fob, or anything like that.”
“But he gave you a necklace,—the day we sailed for Paris.”
“Fiddle-de-dee! It was only a locket, with the merest thread of a gold chain; and anyway, I never wore it but once or twice.”
“Well, you oughtn’t to have accepted it, if a personal gift is so reprehensible.”
“Elise, you’re a goose!” said Patty, losing her patience at last. “A gift like that is not in very good taste from a boy to a girl; but from a girl to a boy, it’s very much worse. And, anyway, it was different in my case; for Ken and I are old friends, which you and he are not. And, beside, father knew about it, and he said as a parting keepsake it was all right. But at a Christmas tree, in your own house,—Elise, you’ll make a great mistake if you give Kenneth Harper a seal ring.”
“All right, Patty, you know I always do just as you say, so I’ll give it to Roger.”
Patty knew she had judged rightly in the matter, but she also knew that Elise was greatly disappointed at her decision.
She had already noticed that Elise liked handsome Kenneth, but if she did, that was only an added reason why she should not make him a present of a ring.
“She ought to have had more sense!” Patty said to herself, indignantly. “And I’m sorry if she’s sorry; but I couldn’t let her do such a foolish thing!”
CHAPTER IV
A SPLENDID TREE
The Christmas Eve dinner was set for an early hour, that the younger Farrington children might take part in the festivities.
Beside Elise and Roger, there were two younger girls, Louise and Hester, and Bobby, aged ten.
When Patty went down to the drawing-room, she found these three eager with anticipation of the Christmas frolic about to begin.
Kenneth Harper was there too, but there were no other guests, as this evening was to be a family celebration. Soon the other members of the household appeared, and then dinner was announced, and they all went to the dining-room.
Mr. Farrington offered his arm to Patty, and escorted her out first, as guest of honour. Mrs. Farrington followed with Kenneth, and then the five Farrington children came out less formally.
A burst of applause greeted their first sight of the dinner table. It was indeed a Christmas feast to the eye as well as to the palate.
In the centre of the table was a Christmas tree, decorated with tinsel and gay ornaments, and lighted by tiny electric bulbs.
At each plate also, was a tiny Christmas tree, whose box-shaped standards bore the names of the diners.
“Here’s mine!” cried Bobby, as he slid into his chair. “Oh, what a jolly dinner!”
On the little place trees hung nuts and bonbons which were to be eaten, “at the pleasure of the performer,” as Roger expressed it.
The table was also decked with holly and red ribbons, and the various viands, as they were served, were shaped or decorated in keeping with the occasion.
The Farrington household was conducted on a most elaborate plan, and their dinners were usually very formal and conventional. But to-night was an exception, and, save for the solemn butler and grave footmen, everybody in the room was bubbling over with laughter and merriment.
“I’m not hungry any more,” declared Bobby, after he had done full justice to several courses; “let’s hurry up, and have the tree.”
“Wait, Bobs,” advised Hester; “we haven’t had the ice cream yet.”
“Oh, that’s so,” said Bobby; “can’t we have it now, mother, and skip these flummerydiddles?”
He looked scornfully at the dainty salad that had just been placed before him, but Mrs. Farrington only smiled, not caring to remind him of the laws of table etiquette on a festive occasion.
“Have patience, Bobby, dear,” she said; “the ice cream will come next; and, too, you know the longer the dinner, the later you can sit up.”
“That’s so!” agreed Bobby. “My, but Christmas Eve is fun! Wish I could sit up late every night.”
“But it wouldn’t be Christmas Eve every night,” said Patty, smiling at the chubby-faced boy.
“That’s so! Neither no more it wouldn’t! Well, I wish it was Christmas Eve every night, then!”
“That’s right,” laughed Patty. “Make a good big wish while you’re about it.”
Then the ice cream was served and of course it was in shapes of Christmas trees, and Santa Clauses, and sprigs of holly, and Christmas bells, and Patty’s portion was a lovely spray of mistletoe bough.
“Ho, ho!” laughed Kenneth, seeing it across the table; “another good chance lost! You know the penalty, Patty, if you’re caught under the mistletoe. But of course if you eat mistletoe, the charm fails.”
“I’m willing it should,” said Patty, as she took up her spoon. “I’m not pining for a rustic swain to kiss me ’neath the mistletoe bough.”
Patty looked very roguish and provoking as she said this, and Mr. Farrington said, gallantly:
“Ah, no, perhaps not. But the swains are doing the pining, without doubt.”
Now Roger sat on the other side of Patty, and as his father finished speaking, he said, apparently apropos of nothing:
“Mother, are these your Spode plates, or are they Cauldon ware?”
“They’re Spode, Roger; why do you want to know? Are you suddenly becoming interested in China?”
“Yes,” he replied; “are you sure, mother, these are Spode?”
He lifted the handsome plate in front of him, and gazed intently at the mark on its under side, as he held it just above the level of his eyes.
“Be careful, Roger, you’ll spill your ice cream,” admonished his father.
“No, I won’t, sir,” he said, as he replaced his plate. “But I never saw Spode with this decoration before. Let me look at yours, Patty.”
He took up Patty’s plate of ice cream, and lifting it quite high studied the stamp on that.
Suddenly he moved it, until the dish of mistletoe ice cream was directly over Patty’s head.
“Fairly caught!” he cried; “under the mistletoe!” And before Patty caught the jest, Roger had kissed her pretty pink cheek, and then calmly restored her plate of ice cream to its place in front of her.
“You villain!” she cried, glaring at him, and pretending to be greatly offended, but smiling in spite of herself at his clever ruse.
“Good for you, my boy!” cried Mr. Farrington, clapping his hands. “I wish I had thought of that myself. But it’s a game that won’t work twice.”
“Indeed it won’t!” said Patty, “I’ll take care of that!” and she began to eat her mistletoe ice cream in proof of her words.
“It never can happen again,” said Kenneth, in sad tones, as he watched the “mistletoe” disappear. “But I’ll not give up all hope. It’s still Christmas Eve, and there are other mistletoes and other manners.”