along down, and see for yourselfs.”
Hopalong threw open the door that led from the kitchen to the cellar stairs, and holding up their dainty white skirts, Patty and Nan started down the rather dark staircase.
“Look at those white shoes coming downstairs,” they heard Bumble’s voice cry; “I do believe it’s Nan and Patty!”
“It certainly is,” said Patty, and as she reached the last step, she looked around in astonishment, and then burst into laughter.
“Well, you do beat all!” she said, “We’ve been sitting on the front verandah half an hour, wondering where you could be.”
“Isn’t it nice?” said Mrs. Barlow, after she had greeted her guests.
“It is indeed,” said Patty, “it’s the greatest scheme I ever heard of.”
The cellar, which had been recently white-washed, had been converted into a funny sort of a sitting-room. On the floor was spread a large white floor-cloth, whose original use had been for a dancing crash.
The chairs and sofas were all of wicker, and though in various stages of dilapidation, were cool and comfortable. A table in the center was covered with a white cloth, and the sofa pillows were in white ruffled cases.
Bumble explained that the intent was to have everything white, but they hadn’t been able to carry out that idea fully, as they had so few white things.
“The cat is all right,” said Patty, looking at a large white cat that lay curled up on a white fur rug.
“Yes, isn’t she a beautiful cat? Her name is The Countess, and when she’s awake, she’s exceedingly aristocratic and dignified looking, but she’s almost never awake. Oh, here comes Hopalong, with our lemonade.”
The old negro lumbered down the steps, and Bumble took the tray from her, and setting it on the table, served the guests to iced lemonade and tiny thin cakes of Hopalong’s concoction.
“Now isn’t this nice?” said Mrs. Barlow, as they sat chatting and feasting; “you see how cool and comfortable it is, although it’s so warm out of doors. I dare say I shall get rheumatism, as it seems a little damp here, but when I feel it coming on, I’m going to move my chair over onto that fur rug, and then I think there will be no danger.”
“It is delightfully cool,” said Patty, “and I think it a most ingenious idea. If we had only known sooner that you were here, though, we could have had a much longer visit.”
“It’s so fortunate,” said Bumble, whom Patty couldn’t remember to call Helen, “that you chanced to be dressed in white. You fit right in to the colour scheme. Mother and I meant to wear white down here, but all our white frocks have gone to the laundry. But if you’ll come over again after a day or two, we’ll have this place all fixed up fine. You see we only thought of it this morning. It was so unbearably hot, we really had to do something.”
Soon Uncle Ted and Bob came in, and after a while Mr. Fairfield arrived.
The merry party still stayed in the cellar room, and one and all pronounced it a most clever idea for a hot day.
The Barlows were delighted that the Fairfields were to be near them for the summer, and many good times were planned for.
Patty was very fond of her Barlow cousins, but after returning to her own home, which Nan with the special pride of a young housekeeper, kept in the daintiest possible order, Patty declared that she was glad her father had chosen a wife who had the proper ideas of managing a house.
Nan and Patty were congenial in their tastes and though Patty had had some experience in housekeeping, she was quite willing to accept any innovations that Nan might suggest.
“Indeed,” she said, “I am only too glad not to have any of the care and responsibility of keeping house, and I propose to enjoy an idle summer after my hard year in school.”
So the days passed rapidly and happily. There were many guests at the house, and as the Fairfields were rather well acquainted with the summer people at Sandy Cove, they received many invitations to entertainments of various kinds.
The Farringtons often came down in their motor-car and made a flying visit, or took the Fairfields for a ride, and Patty hoped that the Warners would visit them before the summer was over.
One day Mr. Phelps appeared unexpectedly, and from nowhere in particular. He came in his big racing-car, and that day Patty chanced to be the only one of the family at home. He invited her to go for a short ride with him, saying they could easily be back by dinner time, when the others were expected home.
Glad of the opportunity, Patty ran for her automobile coat and hood, and soon they were flying along the country roads.
Part of the time they went at a mad rate of speed, and part of the time they went slower, that they might converse more easily.
As they went somewhat slowly past a piece of woods, Patty gave a sudden exclamation, and declared that she saw what looked like a baby or a young child wrapped in a blanket and lying on the ground.
Her face expressed such horror-stricken anxiety, as she thought that possibly the child had been abandoned and left there purposely, that Mr. Phelps consented to go back and investigate the matter, although he really thought she was mistaken in thinking it was a child at all.
He turned his machine, and in a moment they were back at the place.
Mr. Phelps jumped from the car, and ran into the wood where Patty pointed.
Sure enough, under a tree lay a baby, perhaps a year old, fairly well dressed and with a pretty smiling face.
He called to Patty and she joined him where he stood looking at the child.
“Why, bless your heart!” cried Patty, picking the little one up, “what are you doing here all alone?”
The baby cooed and smiled, dimpling its little face and caressing Patty’s cheeks with its fat little hands. A heavy blanket had been spread on the ground for the child to lie on, and around its little form was pinned a lighter blanket with the name Rosabel embroidered on one corner.
“So that’s your name, is it?” said Patty. “Well, Rosabel, I’d like to know where you belong and what you’re doing here. Do you suppose,” she said, turning an indignant face to Mr. Phelps, “that anybody deliberately put this child here and deserted it?”
“I’m afraid that’s what has happened,” said Mr. Phelps, who really couldn’t think of any other explanation.
They looked all around, but nobody was in sight to whom the child might possibly belong.
“I can’t go away and leave her here,” said Patty, “the dear little thing, what shall we do with her?”
“It is a mighty hard case,” said Mr. Phelps, who was nonplussed himself. He was a most gentle-hearted man, and could not bear the thought of leaving the child there alone in the woods, and it was already nearing sundown.
“We might take it along with us,” he said, “and enquire at the nearest house.”
“There’s no house in sight,” said Patty, looking about. “Well, there are only two things to choose from; to stay here in hope that somebody will come along, who knows something about this baby, or else assume that she really has been deserted and take her home with us, for the night at least. I simply won’t go off and leave her here, and if there was anybody here in charge of her they must have shown up by this time.”
Mr. Phelps could see no use in waiting there any longer, and though it seemed absurd to carry the child off with them, there really seemed nothing else to do.
So with a last look around, hoping to see somebody, but seeing no one, Patty climbed into the car and sitting in the front seat beside Mr. Phelps, held the baby in her lap.
“She’s