sure to buy a house with a garage, father,” put in Patty. “For I must have a place to keep my car.”
“Well, as we’ll have our own car there, I fancy we’ll have a garage, Puss. But we may have to add an ell, to accommodate your toy wagon. When do you expect to get it, by the way?”
“The winner will be announced on the twentieth of April, and the car delivered about May first. So I’ll take you both for a May-day ride. Not both at once, of course.”
“You’ll take Miller on your first few rides, my girl; until you’ve thoroughly learned how to manage the thing.”
“All right, I will. For I don’t want to make any stupid mistakes through ignorance. Accidents may happen, but, if so, I expect to be able to use my skill and knowledge to repair them.”
“Patty, you have a sublime self-confidence,” said her father, laughing; “but I’m glad of it. For it will probably carry you through when your vaunted skill and knowledge give out.”
A few nights later, Mr. Fairfield came home with several photographs of Spring Beach houses that were for sale. Each was accompanied with a description, and the Fairfield trio looked them over with great interest. Two seemed more desirable than the rest, and it was decided that, next day, they should all go down to the shore to look at them.
“Let’s take Christine,” suggested Patty; “a day at the seashore will do her good.”
So, next morning, the quartette started for Spring Beach.
Christine had never seen the ocean before, and Patty greatly enjoyed seeing the Southern girl’s delight.
It was a fine April day, the air clear and cool, and the blue sky cloudless, save for some cotton-wool masses near the horizon. The waves were deep, translucent blue, with brilliantly white crests, and they rolled and tumbled in to shore, as if anxious to greet Christine.
“Is it like you thought it would be?” asked Patty, as Christine stood, with clasped hands, gazing.
“Yes; in its lines. For, of course, I’ve seen pictures of it. But I didn’t know it was so alive.”
“Yes,” said Patty, with a nod of comprehension, “that’s the way it seems to me. Really alive, and always responsive to my moods and thoughts.”
“I didn’t know you had moods and thoughts,” said Christine, smiling at Patty a little quizzically.
“’Deed I have! Perhaps not such subtle and temperamental ones as yours or Mr. Hepworth’s, but perfectly good moods and thoughts, all the same.”
“Why do you class mine with Mr. Hepworth’s?”
“Because you’re both artists. Aren’t artists supposed to have most impressive and unspeakable thoughts at sight of the ocean or the moon or the purple shadows on the distant hills?”
“Patty, I suppose you’re making fun of me, but I don’t mind a bit. And, of one thing I’m sure, whatever your thoughts may be, they’re never unspeakable!”
“Right you are, Christine! I’m glad you appreciate my talent for volubility! That’s why I like the sea. I can talk to it all day, and it is most appreciative, but it never talks back.”
“Oh, it talks back to me! It has told me lots of things already.”
“That’s because you’re an artist. But this must be the new house! Father’s turning in here. Oh, isn’t it lovely!”
It was a most beautiful place, though its somewhat dense shrubbery partly hid the view of the ocean.
But the house was delightful. Large, roomy, and well-built, it seemed all any one could desire for a summer home.
They went through it, with many comments, and then went on a block farther, to look at the other one they had in mind.
This was equally desirable, in every way, as a dwelling, but the large grounds had very few trees or tall shrubs, so that the sea-view was unobstructed.
“This is my choose!” declared Patty, sitting down on the steps of the front veranda. “What’s the use of coming to the seashore and living in a forest? Oh, my fond parents, do decide to take this one, for your little Patty’s sake!”
“Will there be shade enough?” asked Mr. Fairfield.
“Yes, indeed!” declared Patty. “If not, we can go inside and draw the curtains. But I do love a house where you can see out. And I think this is the finest ocean view on the beach.”
“It is,” corroborated the agent, who was showing them the house. “And the sunrise view is grand.”
“I don’t often see the sun rise,” admitted Patty, laughing; “but perhaps I shall, down here, for I’m going to sleep out of doors.”
“In your motor car?” enquired her father.
“No, sir! I’m going to have a veranda bedroom. There, you see it, between those two front towers. I’ve always wanted to try that sort of a fresh-air fund scheme.”
“Well, whatever you and Nan decide on, I’ll agree to,” said Mr. Fairfield, who lived but to please his wife and daughter.
So, after some further serious consideration of rooms and outlooks, Nan and Patty agreed that the second house they had visited was the one for them, and Christine commended their choice.
“It’s rather large for just us three,” said Nan, but Patty replied: “Never mind, we’ll have lots of company. I expect to have house parties a great deal of the time; we’ve never had room for much company in New York. What shall we name the place?”
“‘Sea View,’” said her father, and Patty laughed.
“Yes,” she said; “or ‘Ocean View,’ or ‘Fair View,’ or ‘Beach View’! No, let’s get something descriptive and unhackneyed. Help us, Christine.”
“I like a name like ‘The Breakers,’” said Nan. “It’s so dignified.”
“How about ‘The Pebbles’?” asked Christine, looking at the pebbled walks that led through the lawn.
“That’s just right!” said Patty, “and it’s seashorey, too. We’ll call the place ‘The Pebbles’; shall us, Nan?”
“Yes; I like that. It’s simple and yet expressive.”
“And now,” said Mr. Fairfield, “let us go over to the hotel for luncheon, and then, while I have a little business talk with the agent, you ladies can rave over the sea, the sea, the open sea.”
“What good times you do have, don’t you, Patty?” said Christine, as they strolled along the board walk to the hotel.
“Yes, Christine, I do. And I often feel as if I didn’t deserve so much happiness; and perhaps it’s wrong for me to have so much, when many other girls have so little.”
“No, Patty; that isn’t the way to look at it. You ought to be glad and thankful, but never feel any doubt about its being all right. Myself, I have so much to be thankful for, sometimes my heart almost bursts with gratitude. But I know it’s all right, and that I ought to have it. Whatever is, is right, Patty.”
“Yes; I s’pose so. But, Christine, what do you mean, about yourself? Are you glad you have to earn your own living?”
“Oh, that’s merely incidental. Since I have to earn my own living, I’m glad I can, of course. Or, at least, I shall soon be able to. But I mean, I’m so glad that I have such talent as I have, and such a love of my life work, and such dear friends, and such a happy outlook generally.”
“Christine, you’re a darling. I don’t believe many people know how fine and lovely you are. Do they?”