Pattys Butterfly Days | Page 3

hear about it! I suppose you'll be queen of it, whatever it is, Lora?"
"I'll have a chance at it, if you're not here! That's the only comfort about your going away. Somebody else can be the Belle of Spring Beach for a time."
The good-natured laughter in Lora's eyes took all sting from her words, and, indeed, it was an acknowledged fact that Pretty Patty was the belle of the little seashore colony.
"I'm awfully sorry about it," began Nan, but Patty stopped her at once.
"There's nothing to be sorry about, Madame Nan," she cried, gaily; "these provincial young people don't appreciate the advantages of travel. They'd rather stay here in one place than jog about the country, seeing all sorts of grand scenery and sights! Once I'm away from this place I shall forget all about its petty frolics and its foolish parties."
"Yes, you WILL!" exclaimed Jack, not at all impressed by Patty's statements, for he knew how untrue they were.
"And the Country Club summer dance!" said Beatrice, regretfully. "Patty, how can you be reconciled to missing that? It's the event of the season! A fancy dance, you know. A sort of Kirmess. Oh, DON'T go away!"
"Don't go away!" echoed Lora, and Jack broke into one of the improvised songs for which he was famous:
"Don't go away from us, Patty, Patty, We can't part with the likes of you! Stay, and be Queen of the Pageant, Patty, Patty, Patty, tender and true. Though you are not very pretty, Patty, Though you are liked by a very few; We will put up with you, Patty, Patty,-- Patty, Patty, stay with us, do!"
The rollicking voice and twinkling eyes, which were Jack's chief charms, made Patty laugh outright at his song. But, not to be outdone in fun, and also, to keep herself from growing serious, she sang back at him:
"I don't want to stay at this place, I don't like it any more! I am going to the mountains, Where I've never been before. I shall tramp the mountain pathways, I shall climb the mountain's peak; I don't want to stay in this place, So I'll go away next week!"
"All right for you!" declared Jack. "Go on, and joy go with you! But don't you send me any picture postcards of yourself lost in a perilous mountain fastness,--'cause I won't come and rescue you. So there!"
"What is a mountain fastness?" demanded Patty. "It sounds frisky."
"It isn't," replied Jack; "it's a deep gorge, with ice-covered walls and no way out; and as the darkness falls, dreadful growls are heard on all sides, and wild animals prowl--and prowl--and prow-ow-owl!"
Jack's voice grew deep and terrible, as he suggested the awful situation, but Patty laughed gaily as she said:
"Well, as long as they keep on prowling, they certainly can't harm me. It all sounds rather interesting. At any rate, the ice-covered walls sound cool. You must admit Spring Beach is a hot place."
"All places are hot in hot weather," observed Beatrice, sapiently; "when there's an ocean breeze, it's lovely and cool here."
"Yes," agreed Lora, "when there IS. But there 'most generally ISN'T. To-day, I'm sure the thermometer must be about two hundred."
"That's your heated imagination," said Jack. "It's really about eighty-four in the shade."
"Let's move around into the shade, then," said Patty. "This side of the veranda is getting sunny."
So the young people went round the corner of the house to a cooler spot, and Nan expressed her intention of going down to the train to meet Mr. Fairfield.
"You people," began Patty, after Nan had left them, "mustn't talk as you do about my going away, before my stepmother. You see, we're going because she wants to go, but it isn't polite to rub it in!"
"I know it," said Beatrice, "but I forgot it. But, I say, Patty, I think it's too bad for you to be trailed off there just to please her."
"Not at all, Bee. She has stayed here three months to please me, and turn about is fair play."
"It's Fairfield play, at any rate," put in Jack. "You're a trump, Patty, to take it so sweetly. I wish you didn't have to go, though."
"So say we all of us," declared Lora, but Patty ordered them, rather earnestly, to drop the subject and not refer to it again.
"You must write me all about the Pageant, girls," she went on.
"Can't I write too, though I'm not a girl?" asked Jack.
"No!" cried Patty, holding up her hands in pretended horror. "I couldn't receive a letter from a young man!"
"Oh, try it," said Jack, laughing. "I'll help you. You've no idea how easy it is! Have you never had a letter from a man?"
"From papa," said Patty, putting the tip of her finger in her mouth, and speaking babyishly.
"Papa, nothing! You get letters from those New York chaps,