looking around, Patty saw Bob strolling toward her across the lawn. “Want to go out on the lake and fish for pond-lilies?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Patty, twisting herself out of the hammock. “What are you going to do with them?”
“Oh, just for the lunch table. Mabel’s so everlastingly fond of them, you know.”
Patty thought it was nice of Bob to remember his sister’s tastes, and she willingly went with him toward the lake.
“How beautiful it all is!” she said as they went down the terrace steps and along the lake path which led through a pergola and around a curved corner called “The Alcove.”
This delightful nook was a small open court of marble, adorned with pillars and statues, and partly surrounding a fountain.
“Yes, isn’t it?” exclaimed Bob, enthusiastically. “You know, Patty, this old place is my joy and my despair. I love every stick and stone of it, but I wish we could keep it up in decent order. Heigh-ho! Just wait until I’m out of college. I’ll do something then to turn an honest shilling, and every penny of it shall go to fix up the dear old place.”
“What are you going to be, Bob?”
“An engineer. There’s more chance for a fellow in that than in any other profession. Old Sinclair’s for being a lawyer, and he’ll be a good one, too, but it’s slow work.”
“You ought to go to America, Bob, if you want to get rich.”
“I would, like a shot, if I could take the old house with me. But I’m afraid it’s too big to uproot.”
“I’m afraid it is. I suppose you wouldn’t like to live in a brown-stone front on Fifth Avenue?”
“Never having seen your brown-stone Avenue, ma’am, I can’t say; but I suppose a deer park and lake and several thousand acres of meadow land are not included with each house.”
“No; not unless you take the whole of Manhattan Island.”
“Even that wouldn’t do; unless I had taken it a few hundred years ago, and started the trees growing then.”
“No, America wouldn’t suit you,” said Patty, thoughtfully, “any more than English country life would suit most of our American boys.”
“But you like this life of ours?”
“I love it; for a time. And just now I am enjoying it immensely. Oh, what gorgeous lilies!”
They had reached the lake, and the quiet, well-behaved water was placidly rippling against the stone coping.
Bob untied the boat.
“It’s an old thing,” he said, regretfully; “but it’s water-tight, so don’t be afraid.”
Patty went down the broad marble steps, and seated herself in the stern of the boat, while Bob took the rowing seat.
A few of his strong pulls, and they were out among the lily pads.
“Row around a bit before we gather them,” suggested Patty, and Bob with long, slow strokes sent the boat softly and steadily along.
“Isn’t it perfect?” said Patty, dreamily. “It seems as if nothing could stir me up on a day like this.”
“Is that so?” said Bob, and with mischief in his eyes, he began to rock the boat from side to side.
“You villain!” cried Patty, rudely stirred from her calm enjoyment; “take that!”
She dashed light sprays of water at him from over the side of the boat, and he returned by cleverly sprinkling a few drops on her from the blade of his oar.
“Why did you want to kick up a bobbery, when everything was so nice and peaceful?” she said, reproachfully.
“I shall always kick up a bobbery,” he returned, calmly, “when you put on that romantic, sentimental air.”
“I didn’t put on any sentimental air! I was just enjoying the dreamy spirit of the lake.”
“Thank you! That’s the same as saying my society makes you sleepy.”
“Nothing of the sort. And anyway, the dreamy mood has passed.”
“Yes, I intended it should. Now, let’s sing.”
“All right; what?”
“The ‘Little Kibosh,’ I think. That’s a good song to row by.”
The young people at Cromarty Manor had already composed several songs which seemed to them choicest gems of musical composition.
As a rule Patty and Bob made up the words, while Mabel and Sinclair arranged the tunes.
Sometimes the airs were adapted from well-known songs, and sometimes they were entirely original.
“The Little Kibosh” was one of their favourite nonsense songs, and now Patty and Bob sang it in unison as they rowed slowly about on the lake.
“It was ever so many years ago,
On a prairie by the sea;
A little Kibosh I used to know
By the name of Hoppity Lee.
His hair was as green as the driven snow,
And his cheeks were as blue as tea.
“’Twas just about night, or nearly noon
When Hoppity Lee and I
Decided to go for a sail to the moon,
At least, as far as the sky.
But instead of taking the Big Balloon,
sailed in a pumpkin pie.
“Dear little Hoppity Lee and I
Were happy and glad and gay;
But the Dog Star came out as we passed by,
And began to bark and bay.
And the little Kibosh fell out of the pie,
And into the Milky Way!
“I fished and fished for a year and a week
For dear little Hoppity Lee;
And at last I heard a small faint squeak
From the place where he used to be;
And he said, ‘Go home, and never more seek,
Oh, never more seek for me!’”
Chapter XIV.
Uncle Marmaduke
That very same evening Patty had a chance to speak to Sinclair alone.
It was just after dinner, and the lovely English twilight was beginning to cast long, soft shadows of the tall cypresses across the lawn. The various members of the family were standing about on the terrace, when Sinclair said, “You need some exercise, Patty; let’s walk as far as the alcove.”
Patty assented, and the two strolled away, while Mabel called after them, “Don’t be gone long, for we’re all going to play games this evening.”
They all loved games, so Patty promised to return very soon.
“I never saw anything like this alcove before in my life,” said Patty, as they reached the picturesque spot and sat down upon the curving marble seat.
“They are often found in the gardens of old English homes. Any arched or covered seat out of doors is called an alcove. But this is rather an elaborate one. The marble pillars are of fine design, and the whole thing is beautifully