flinging off her shoes. "I can swim, and I'll save the baby."
She remembered how Nan jumped into the water with her ordinary clothes on that day at the Hurly-Burly, and so she ran into the lake, all dressed as she was, for there was no time to lose, and struck out for the boat.
She had taken but a few strokes, when she saw the child fall into the water, and heard Mrs. Elliott give a despairing shriek.
Patty gave one shout of "All right, Aunt Alice, I'll get him!" and then swam for dear life. This was literally true, for she was determined to save the dear life of little Gilbert if she possibly could.
And she did, for as the baby rose to the surface, Patty was near enough to grasp him, and then managed to reach the overturned boat and by its support she easily kept herself and the child afloat.
"He's all right," she called to the crowd now gathering on the bank. "I can hold him up; somebody come out after us in a boat." But two boats had already started, and in a few minutes Gilbert was lifted into one and Patty scrambled into the other, and they were quickly rowed ashore, and when they landed on the beach, Uncle Charlie, with the tears rolling down his cheeks, tried to embrace both Patty and Gilbert at once.
Aunt Alice couldn't speak, but the looks of love and gratitude she gave Patty said more than words could, and Patty felt that this was the happiest moment of her life. And what a fuss the young people made over her! The boys praised her pluck, and the girls marveled at her skill.
But as Patty and Gilbert were both dripping wet, and it was already nightfall, the question was, what to do to keep them from taking cold.
"Build up the fire again," said grandma, "and we'll undress the baby, and wrap him all up in one of the carriage robes."
"And there's another carriage robe for Patty," said Marian.
"I'll fix Patty," said Uncle Charlie, "haven't some of you girls a big blanket-shawl that won't be spoiled if it gets wet?"
Several shawls were eagerly offered, and Uncle Charlie selected two big warm ones and wrapped Patty, wet clothes and all, tightly in them, leaving only her face exposed, until she looked like a mummy, and was wound so tight she couldn't stand up without assistance. But Uncle Charlie took the laughing mummy in his arms and lifted her right into his carriage and then got in and sat beside her.
"Now give me the baby," he said, and Gilbert, equally wrapped up, was put into his arms.
"Help your mother and grandma in, Frank," he said, "and then, my son, you must look after your guests, and see that the stages are filled and started off. We will drive home quickly and I think our Patty and Gilbert will suffer no harm from their bath. You and Marian must explain all this, and say good-bye to our guests. It has been a terrible experience, but we are all safe now, and I don't want the young people to feel saddened."
"Yes, father," said Frank, "I'll take charge here, and look after Marian and Edith, and attend to getting everything and everybody home safely."
Then the driver took up his whip, and Mr. Elliott's horses flew over the ground at a mad pace.
Although the sudden fright had shocked Mrs. Elliott terribly, she was beginning to recover herself, and by the time the carriage reached home, she was all ready to take charge of affairs in her usual capable way. Uncle Charlie deposited the bundle of baby on the sofa, and then went back and carried in what he called his "mummy niece."
"Grandma," said Mrs. Elliott, "I'll give our darling Patty into your charge, for the present. Will you see that she has a hot bath, and a steaming hot drink made after one of your good old recipes? And then tuck her into her bed in double-quick time. After I treat baby in a similar fashion, and get him to sleep, I will interview my niece myself."
And when that interview took place, Patty was made to know how deep a mother's gratitude can be, and the bond sealed that night between Aunt Alice and her niece was one of lifelong endurance and deep, true love.
Next day, the Water Babies, as Uncle Charlie called Patty and Gilbert, were as well as ever, and suffered no ill effects from their dip in the lake.
Many of the Vernondale boys and girls came to see Patty, and Frank and Marian exhibited her with pride, as if she were an Imperial treasure.
Patty bore her honors modestly, for it didn't seem to her that she had done anything specially meritorious. She was glad Bob and Uncle Ted had taught her to swim so well, and even greater than her joy at saving Gilbert's life was the thought that she had saved the boy for her dear Aunt Alice whom she loved so much.
When Uncle Charlie came home from New York that night, he brought Patty a beautiful gold brooch set with pearls and with a sparkling diamond in the centre.
"This isn't a reward, Patty dear," he said, "for no amount of jewels could represent the value of our baby's life. But I want you to wear it sometimes as heroes wear the Victoria Cross, or as men at the life-saving stations wear their medals."
Patty's heart was touched at this expression of Uncle Charlie's gratitude, and she was delighted, too, with the beautiful gift.
"I don't want any reward, uncle," she said, "but I shall keep this lovely brooch all my life as one of my choicest treasures."
Chapter XXI.
A Reading-Club
With October came school-days.
There was a fine school for young ladies in Vernondale, which Marian attended, and Aunt Alice thought it best for Patty to go too.
The cousins, who had become inseparable companions, enjoyed their school-life together, and the added duties which lessons brought, caused Aunt Alice to make Patty's household tasks rather fewer.
That lady was by no means an advocate of "all work and no play," and though some domestic duties were imposed and a cake or a dessert was taught every Saturday, yet Patty had plenty of time for amusements and plenty of amusements for her time.
One October day, Patty and Marian and two of their schoolgirl friends sat on Patty's balcony drinking afternoon tea.
It was getting late in the season to use the pretty balcony, but it chanced to be a bright, sunny autumn day, and the girls had their wraps on.
Besides, they were talking so busily, that I think they would scarcely have noticed it, had the mercury suddenly fallen to zero.
"Yes," Elsie Morris was saying, "we'll have a real literary club, and we'll have a president and constitution and everything. But don't let's have too many members. About twelve girls, I should say."
"Only girls?" said Marian, "aren't we going to have any boys? I know Frank would like to join."
"Oh, boys don't like to read," said Polly Stevens, "they're nice at parties and picnics, but we want this club to be really literary, and not just fooling."
"I know it," said Marian, "but we thought we'd have little plays and tableaux, and things like that. And how can we manage those without boys? What do you say, Patty?"
"I think it's nice to have the boys," said Patty, "but they won't come much in the afternoons. If we have them, it'll have to be an evening affair. Let's ask Aunt Alice."
"Yes," said Elsie, "Mrs. Elliott always knows just what to do."
"I'll go after her," said Patty, and away she ran, and returned in triumph with her aunt.
"Now, my blessed auntie," she said, as she gave her a seat, and wrapped a fleecy shawl about her shoulders, "let me offer you a cup of tea, for we are going to give you a weighty question to decide, and you'll need a stimulant."
"Very well," said Aunt Alice, laughing, "but you'd better ask the question quickly, for this tea doesn't look very strong and its effects will soon wear off."
So