she wants to come, you certainly ought to ask her. You visited there three months, you know."
"Yes, I know it, and they were very kind to me. Aunt Isabel had parties, and did things for my pleasure all the time. Well, I'll invite them right away. Perhaps I ought to ask Aunt Isabel, too."
"Yes, you might ask her," said Mr. Fairfield, "and she can bring the children down, but she probably will not stay as long as they do."
So Patty wrote for her aunt and cousins, and the first day of July they arrived.
Mrs. St. Clair, who was Patty's aunt only by marriage, was a very fashionable woman of a pretty, but somewhat artificial, type. She liked young people, and had spared no pains to make Patty's visit to her a happy one. But it was quite evident that she expected Patty to return her hospitality in kind, and she had been at Boxley Hall but a few hours before she began to inquire what plans Patty had made for her entertainment.
Now, though Patty had thought out several little pleasures for her cousins, it hadn't occurred to her that Aunt Isabel would expect parties made for her.
She evaded her aunt's questions, however, and waited for an opportunity to speak alone with her father about it.
"Why, papa," she exclaimed that evening after their guests had gone to their rooms, "Aunt Isabel expects me to have a tea or reception or something for her."
"Nonsense, child, she can't think of such a thing."
"Yes, she does, papa, and what's more, I want to do it. She was very kind to me and I'd rather please her than Ethelyn. I don't care much for Ethelyn anyway."
"She isn't just your kind, is she, my girl?"
"No, she isn't like Marian nor any of the club girls. She has her head full of fashions, and beaux, and grown-up things of all sorts. She is just my age, but you'd think she was about twenty, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, she does look almost as old as that, and she acts quite as old. Reginald is a nice boy."
"Yes, but he's pompous and stuck-up. He always did put on grand airs. Aunt Isabel does, too, but she's so kind-hearted and generous nobody can help liking her."
"Well, have a party for her if you want to, chicken. But don't take the responsibility of it entirely on yourself. I should think you might make it a pretty little afternoon tea. Get Aunt Alice to make out the invitation list; she knows better than you what ladies to invite, and then let Pacetti send up whatever you want for the feast. I've no doubt Pansy will be willing to attend to the floral decoration of the house."
"I've no doubt she will," said Patty, laughing. "The trouble will be to stop her before she turns the whole place into a horticultural exhibit."
"Well, go ahead with it, Patty. I think it will please your aunt very much, but don't wear yourself out over it."
Next morning at breakfast Patty announced her plan for an afternoon tea, and Aunt Isabel was delighted.
"You dear child," she exclaimed, "how sweet of you! I hate to have you go to any trouble on my account, but I shall be so pleased to meet the Vernondale ladies. I want to know what kind of people my niece is growing up among."
"I'm sure you'll like them, Aunt Isabel. Aunt Alice's friends are lovely. And then I'll ask the mothers of the Tea Club girls, and my neighbour, Miss Daggett, but I don't believe she'll come."
"Is that the rich Miss Daggett?" asked Aunt Isabel curiously; "the queer one?"
"I don't know whether she's rich or not," said Patty. "I dare say she is, though, because she has lovely things; but she certainly can be called queer. I'm very fond of her, though; she's awfully nice to me, and I like her in spite of her queerness."
"But you'll ask some young ladies, too, won't you?" said Ethelyn. "I don't care very much for queer old maids and middle-aged married ladies."
"Oh, this isn't for you, Ethel," said Patty. "I'll have a children's party for you and Reginald some other day."
"Children's party, indeed," said Ethelyn, turning up her haughty little nose. "You know very well, Patty, I haven't considered myself a child for years."
"Nor I," said Reginald.
"Well, I consider myself one," said Patty. "I'm not in a bit of hurry to be grown-up; but we're going to have a lovely sailing party, Ethelyn, on Fourth of July, and I'm sure you'll enjoy that."
"Are any young men going?" said Ethelyn.
"There are a lot of boys going," said Patty. "But the only young men will be my father and Uncle Charley and Mr. Hepworth."
"Who is Mr. Hepworth?"
"He's an artist friend of papa's, who comes out quite often, and who always goes sailing with us when we have sailing parties."
Aunt Alice was more than willing to help Patty with her project, and the result was a very pretty little afternoon tea at Boxley Hall.
"I'm so glad I brought my white crêpe-de-chine," said Aunt Isabel, as she dressed for the occasion.
"I'm glad, too," said Patty; "for it's a lovely gown and you look sweet in it."
"I've brought a lot of pretty dresses, too," said Ethelyn, "and I suppose I may as well put on one of the prettiest to-day, as there's no use in wasting them on those children's parties you're talking about."
"Do just as you like, Ethelyn," said Patty, knowing that her cousin was always overdressed on all occasions, and therefore it made little difference what she wore.
And, sure enough, Ethelyn arrayed herself in a most resplendent gown which, though very beautiful, was made in a style more suited to a belle of several seasons than a young miss of sixteen.
Patty wore one of her pretty little white house dresses; and Aunt Alice, in a lovely gray gown, assisted her to receive the guests, and to introduce Mrs. St. Clair and her children.
Among the late arrivals was Miss Daggett. Her coming created a sensation, for, as was well known in Vernondale, she rarely attended social affairs of any sort. But, for some unknown reason, she chose to accept Patty's invitation, and, garbed in an old-fashioned brown velvet, she was presented to Mrs. St. Clair.
"I'm so glad to see you," said the latter, shaking hands effusively.
"Humph!" said Miss Daggett. "Why should you be glad to see me, pray?"
"Why, because--because--" Mrs. St. Clair floundered a little, and seemed really unable to give any reason.
"Because you've heard that I'm rich and old and queer?" said Miss Daggett.
This was exactly true, but Mrs. St. Clair did not care to admit it, so she said: "Why, no, not that; but I've heard my niece speak of you so often that I felt anxious to meet you."
"Well, I'm not afraid of anything Patty Fairfield said about me; she's a dear little girl; I'm very fond of her."
"Why do you call her little girl?" said Mrs. St. Clair. "Patty is in her seventeenth year; surely that is not quite a child."
"But she is a child at heart," said Miss Daggett, "and I am glad of it. I would far rather see her with her pretty, sunshiny childish ways than to see her like that overdressed little minx standing over there beside her, whoever she may be."
"That's my daughter," said Mrs. St. Clair, without, however, looking as deeply offended as she might have done.
"Oh, is it?" said Miss Daggett, sniffing. "Well, I see no reason to change my opinion of her, if she is."
"No," said Mrs. St. Clair, "of course we are each entitled to our own opinion. Now, I think my daughter more appropriately dressed than my niece. And I think your nephew will agree with me," she added, smiling.
"My nephew!" snapped Miss Daggett. "Do you know him?"
"Oh, yes, indeed; we met Mr. Harper at a reception in New York not