Patty Fairfield | Page 3

with your new experiences."
Now, Patty Fairfield was a philosophic little girl, so when she found
that her father's mind was made up she accepted the situation and
offered no objections of any kind. And, indeed the new plan was not
without its charm. Although she knew none of her aunts, she knew a
great deal about them, and their Northern homes seemed attractive to
her in many ways.
"What about school, papa?" she said, finally.
"That will be left to the judgment of each aunt in turn. I think Aunt
Isabel has a governess for her children, and Aunt Hester will probably
teach you herself. But you will learn enough, and if not, you can
consider it a year's vacation, and I'll put you back in school when I am
with you again."
"Well," said Patty, meditatively, "I think it will be very nice, and I'll
like it, but I'll be awful lonesome for you," and with a spring she
jumped into her father's arms.
"Yes, of course, my baby, we'll be homesick for each other, but we'll be
brave, and when we feel very lonesome, we'll sit down and write each
other nice long letters."
"Oh, that will be fun, I love letters; and here comes Clara, may I tell her

about it?"
"Yes, and tell her she must come to see me once in a while, and cheer
me after I lose my own little girl."
Clara Hayden was Patty's intimate friend and both the girls' hearts grew
sad at the thought of parting.
"But," said Patty, who was determined to look on the bright side, "after
a year, papa and I will have a house of our own, and then you can come
and make us a long, long visit. And we can write letters, Clara, and you
must tell me all about the girls, and about school and about the
Magnolia Club."
"Yes, I will; and you write to me about all you do at your aunts' houses.
Where do they live, Patty?"
"Well, I shall go first to Aunt Isabel's, and she lives in Elmbridge.
That's in New Jersey, but it's quite near New York. Next I'm going to
Aunt Hester's; she lives in Boston. Then I'm going to visit Aunt Grace.
They live in Philadelphia, but I'll be with them in the summertime, and
then they're at their country place somewhere on Long Island, wherever
that may be. And the last one is Aunt Alice, and I forget the name of
the town where she lives. Isn't it nice, Clara, to have so many aunts?"
"Yes, lovely! I suppose you'll go to New York often."
"I don't know; I think I'm afraid of New York. They say it's an awful
dangerous place."
"Yes, it is. People get killed there all the time."
"Fiddlesticks! I don't believe they do. Well, I reckon I won't get killed.
Uncle Robert will take better care of me than that."
CHAPTER II
TRAVELING NORTH

As a result of many letters back and forth between Mr. Fairfield and the
Northern aunts, Patty stood one morning on the platform of the railway
station, all ready to depart for her new homes.
It was the first week in December, and the little girl shivered as she
thought of the arctic cold to which she imagined herself going.
"Of course they'll meet me in a sleigh, won't they, papa?" she said.
"Perhaps so, but I doubt it," he replied. "They don't have such
snowstorms in Jersey now as they used to when I was a boy. Last
winter they had no sleighing at all. But here comes Miss Powers; let us
go to greet her." Miss Powers was a sharp-faced lady who came
marching along the platform with a firm step.
Patty was to travel in her care, not because she was an especially
desirable traveling companion, but because she was the only
acquaintance of the Fairfields who chanced to be going North at that
time.
"Good-morning," she cried, "are you here already? I was certain you'd
be late and miss the train. Not a very pleasant day, is it? I wish we had
planned to go to-morrow instead. Why, Patty, you are wearing your
best hat! You'll spoil it, I'm sure. Have you your trunk check? Give it to
me, you'll certainly lose it else."
"Here it is, Miss Powers," said Mr. Fairfield, pleasantly, "and I dare say
you will prove more responsible than my rattle-pated daughter."
He squeezed Patty's hand affectionately as he said this, and a great
wave of homesickness came over the child's heart. She caught her
father round the neck, and vainly trying to keep the tears back, she
whispered,
"Oh, papa, dear, let me stay with you. I don't want to go to Aunt
Isabel's,--I know she's horrid,