at the whole performance, Patty jumped into the Barlow carriage and went to the Hurly-Burly.
“Well, of all things!” said her Aunt Grace, after Patty had told her story. “I’ve had a suspicion, sometimes, that we Barlows were an unconventional crowd, but we never borrowed anybody’s house yet! It’s ridiculous, Patty, and you ought not to have let that woman have it!”
“I just couldn’t help it, Aunt Grace, she was in such a twitter, and threw herself on my mercy in such a way that I felt I had to help her out.”
“You’re too soft-hearted, Patty; you’d do anything for anybody who asked you.”
“You needn’t talk, Aunt Grace, you’re just the same yourself, and you know that if somebody came along this minute and wanted to borrow your house you’d let her have it if she coaxed hard enough.”
“I think very likely,” said Aunt Grace, placidly. “Now, how are you going to catch your father and Nan?”
“Why, they’ll have to drive past here on their way home,” said Patty, “and I mean to stop them and tell them about it. We can put the horse in your barn, I suppose.”
“Yes, of course. And now we’ll go out on the verandah, and then we can see the Fairfield turn-out when it comes along.”
The Fairfields were waylaid and stopped as they drove by the house, which was not astonishing, as Patty and Bumble and Mrs. Barlow watched from the piazza, while Bob was perched on the front gate post, and Uncle Ted was pacing up and down the walk.
“What’s the matter?” cried Mr. Fairfield, as he reined up his horse in response to their various salutations.
“The matter is,” said Patty, “that we haven’t any home of our own to-night, and so we’re visiting Aunt Grace.”
“Earthquake swallowed our house?” inquired Mr. Fairfield, as he turned to drive in.
“Not quite,” said Patty, “but one of the neighbours wanted to borrow it, so I lent it to her.”
“That Mrs. Roland, I suppose,” said Nan; “she probably mislaid her own house, she’s so careless and rattle-pated.”
“It was Mrs. Roland,” said Patty, laughing, “and she’s having a dinner-party, and their tank burst, and most of the ceilings fell, and really, Nan, you know yourself such things do upset a house, if they occur on the day of a dinner-party.”
Fuller explanations ensued, and though the Fairfields thought it a crazy piece of business, they agreed with Patty, that it would have been difficult to refuse Mrs. Roland’s request.
And it really didn’t interfere with the Fairfields’comfort at all, and the Barlows protested that it was a great pleasure to them to entertain their friends so unexpectedly, so, as Mr. Fairfield declared, Mrs. Roland was, after all, a public benefactor.
“You’d better wait,” said Nan, “until you see the house to-morrow. I know a little about the Rolands, and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find things pretty much upside down.”
It was nearly noon the next day when Mrs. Roland telephoned to the Hurly-Burly and asked for Mrs. Fairfield.
Nan responded, and was told that the Rolands were now leaving, and that the Fairfields might again come into their home.
Mrs. Roland also expressed voluble thanks for the great service the Fairfields had done her, and said that she would call the next day to thank them in person.
So the Fairfields went back home, and happily Nan’s fears were not realised. Nothing seemed to be spoiled or out of order, and the servants said that Mrs. Roland and her family and friends had been most kind, and had made no trouble at all.
“Now, you see,” said Patty, triumphantly, “that it does no harm to do a kind deed to a neighbour once in a while, even though it isn’t the particular kind deed that you’ve done a hundred times before.”
“That’s true enough, Patty,” said her father, “but all the same when you lend our home again, let it be our own house, and furnished with our own things. I don’t mind owning up, now that it’s all over, that I did feel a certain anxiety arising from the fact that this is a rented house, and almost none of the household appointments are our own.”
“Goodness, gracious me!” said Patty. “I never once thought of that! Well, I’m glad they didn’t smash all the china and bric-a-brac, for they’re mortal homely, and I should certainly begrudge the money it would take to replace them.”
Chapter XXI.
The Crusoes
Plans were on foot for a huge fair and bazaar to be held in aid of the Associated Charities. Everybody in and around Sandy Cove was interested, and the fair, which would be held the last week in August, was expected to eclipse all previous efforts of its kind.
All three of the Fairfields were energetically assisting in the work, and each was a member of several important committees.
The Barlows, too, were working hard, and the Rolands thought they were doing so, though somehow they accomplished very little. As the time drew near for the bazaar to open, Patty grew so excited over the work and had such a multitude of responsibilities, that she flew around as madly as when she was preparing for the play at school.
“But I’m perfectly well, now,” she said to her father when he remonstrated with her, “and I don’t mind how hard I work as long as I haven’t lessons to study at the same time.”
Aside from assisting with various booths and tables, Patty had charge of a gypsy encampment, which she spared no pains to make as gay and interesting as possible.
The “Romany Rest” she called the little enclosure which was to represent the gypsies’home, and Patty not only superintended the furnishing and arranging of the place, but also directed the details of the costumes which were to be worn by the young people who were to represent gypsies.
The Fairfields’ house was filled with guests who had come down for the fair.
Patty had invited Elise and Roger Farrington, and Bertha and Winthrop Warner. Mr. Hepworth and Kenneth Harper were there, too, and the merry crowd of young people worked zealously in their endeavours to assist Patty and Nan.
Mr. Hepworth, of course, was especially helpful in arranging the gypsy encampment, and designing the picturesque costumes for the girls and young men who were to act as gypsies. The white blouses with gay-coloured scarfs and broad sombreros were beautiful to look at, even if, as Patty said, they were more like Spanish fandangoes than like any gypsy garments she had ever seen.
“Don’t expose your ignorance, my child,” said Mr. Hepworth, smiling at her. “A Romany is not an ordinary gypsy and is always clothed in this particular kind of garb.”
“Then that’s all that’s necessary,” said Patty. “I bow to your superior judgment, and I feel sure that all the patrons of the fair will spend most of their time at the ‘Romany Rest.’”
The day on which the fair was to open was a busy one, and everybody was up betimes, getting ready for the grand event.
A fancy dress parade was to be one of the features of the first evening, and as a prize was offered for the cleverest costume, all of the contestants were carefully guarding the secret of the characters their costumes would represent. Although Roger had given no hint of what his costume was to be, he calmly announced that he knew it would take the prize. The others laughed, thinking this a jest, and Patty was of a private opinion that probably Mr. Hepworth’s costume would be cleverer than Roger’s, as the artist had most original and ingenious ideas.
The fair was to open at three in