When Patty Went to College | Page 3

Clara Vere de Vere for short?"
The freshman looked doubtful, and Patty proceeded: "Lady Clara,
allow me to present my room-mate Miss Priscilla Pond--no relation to
the extract. She's athletic and wins hundred-yard dashes and hurdle
races, and gets her name in the paper to a really gratifying extent. And
my dear friend Miss Georgie Merriles, one of the oldest families in
Dakota. Miss Merriles is very talented--sings in the glee club, plays on
the comb--"
"And," interrupted Georgie, "let me present Miss Patty Wyatt, who--"
"Has no specialty," said Patty, modestly, "but is merely good and
beautiful and bright."
A knock sounded on the door, which opened without waiting for a
response. "Miss Theodora Bartlet," continued Patty, "commonly known
as the Twin, Miss Vere de Vere."
The Twin looked dazed, murmured, "Miss Vere de Vere," and dropped
down on a dry-goods box.
"The term 'Twin,'" explained Patty, "is used in a merely allegorical
sense. There is really only one of her. The title was conferred in her
freshman year, and the reason has been lost in the dim dawn of
antiquity."
The freshman looked at the Twin and opened her mouth, but shut it
again without saying anything.
"My favorite maxim," said Patty, "has always been, 'Silence is golden.'
I observe that we are kindred spirits."
"Patty," said Priscilla, "do stop bothering that poor child and get to
work."

"Bothering?" said Patty. "I am not bothering her; we are just getting
acquainted. However, I dare say it is not the time for hollow civilities.
Do you want to borrow anything?" she added, turning to the Twin, "or
did you just drop in to pay a social call?"
"Just a social call; but I think I'll come in again when there's no
furniture to move."
"You don't happen to be going into town this afternoon?"
"Yes," said the Twin. "But," she added guardedly, "if it's a curtain-pole,
I refuse to bring it out. I offered to bring one out for Lucille Carter last
night, because she was in a hurry to give a house-warming, and I
speared the conductor with it getting into the car; and while I was
apologizing to him I knocked Mrs. Prexy's hat off with the other end."
"We have all the curtain-poles we need," said Patty. "It's just some
paint--five cans of black paint, and three brushes at the ten-cent store,
and thank you very much. Good-by. Now," she continued, "the first
thing is to get that door down, and I will wrest a screw-driver from the
unwilling Peters while you remove tacks from the carpet."
"He won't give you one," said Priscilla.
"You'll see," said Patty.
Five minutes later she returned waving above her head an unmistakable
screw-driver. "Voilà, mes amies! Peters's own private screw-driver, for
which I am to be personally responsible."
"How did you get it?" inquired Priscilla, suspiciously.
"You act," said Patty, "as if you thought I knocked him down in some
dark corner and robbed him. I merely asked him for it politely, and he
asked me what I wanted to do with it. I told him I wanted to take out
screws, and the reason impressed him so that he handed it over without
a word. Peters," she added, "is a dear; only he's like every other
man--you have to use diplomacy."

By ten o'clock that night the study carpet of 399 was neatly folded and
deposited at the end of the corridor above, whence its origin would be
difficult to trace. The entire region was steeped in an odor of turpentine,
and the study floor of 399 was a shining black, except for four or five
unpainted spots which Patty designated as "stepping-stones," and which
were to be treated later. Every caller that had dropped in during the
afternoon or evening had had a brush thrust into her hand and had been
made to go down upon her knees and paint. Besides the floor, three
bookcases and a chair had been transferred from mahogany to Flemish
oak, and there was still half a can of paint left which Patty was
anxiously trying to dispose of.
The next morning, in spite of the difficulty of getting about, the
step-ladder had been reërected, and the business of tapestry-hanging
was going forward with enthusiasm, when a knock suddenly
interrupted the work.
Patty, all unconscious of impending doom, cheerily called, "Come in!"
The door opened, and the figure of Peters appeared on the threshold;
and Priscilla basely fled, leaving her room-mate stranded on the ladder.
"Are you the young lady who borrowed my screw--" Peters stopped
and looked at the floor, and his jaw dropped in astonishment. "Where is
that there carpet?" he demanded, in a tone which seemed to imply that
he thought it was under the paint.
"It's out in the hall,"