"Now, Patty," said Cousin Tom, as they walked along the saloon, "I am going to hand you over to the stewardess, who will show you your stateroom. Go with her, and she will look after you. I think you would better leave off that heavy coat, as it is too chilly outside to permit of going on deck, and the atmosphere within is quite warm. Ah, here she is. Stewardess, this is Miss Fairfield and here is her stateroom key. See to it that she is made comfortable."

As Mr. Fleming supplemented his request with a pecuniary argument, the stewardess made Patty her especial charge, and assiduously looked after her comfort.

"And, Patty," said her cousin, as she turned away, "when you are ready, come back and you will find me right here. See, just by this staircase. Lock your door and bring the key with you."

Patty felt as if she had suddenly grown several years younger, for Cousin Tom talked to her as to a little child. "It's more like Wonderland than ever," she said to herself. "Only instead of growing big or little, I grow old or young. At Aunt Isabel's I was considered a young lady but Cousin Tom seems to think I'm a small child."

The stewardess, who was a good-natured old colored woman, took Patty to her stateroom, and then helped her to unpack her traveling-bag, and arrange her belongings for the night.

As Aunt Isabel had bought her clothes, of course Patty was absurdly overdressed.

When she took off her blue velvet coat with its ermine collar, her blue silk, lace-trimmed dress looked far more suitable for a grand reception than for traveling.

"Laws, missy," said the voluble stewardess, "how handsome you is!"

Patty thought this a reference to her dress, but the remark was meant for the child herself, whose flower-like face looked out from a most becoming big hat of plaited blue velvet, and her golden hair fell in a loosely tied bunch of long thick curls.

When Patty returned to her Cousin Tom, she found him sitting just where he said he would be, but so deeply absorbed in a book that he didn't see or hear her approach.

Not wishing to disturb his reading, she sat down in the large chair next to him and waited.

She didn't mind this at all, for it was very interesting to watch the people passing up and down, and the saloon itself was beautiful to look at. Patty sat for a long while, but Cousin Tom never moved, except to turn the pages of his book. She did not like to speak to him, as she feared he would think it necessary to lay aside his book and entertain her; she had no wish to trouble him, and beside, she was quite capable of entertaining herself.

So after she had sat still for a long while, she decided to walk about the cabin a bit, always keeping in sight of Cousin Tom, if he should raise his eyes. But he didn't, and Patty strayed farther and farther away from him, until she had explored all the available parts of the boat.

She was much interested in all she saw, and many admiring eyes followed the pretty, graceful child as she walked about.

When she reached the dining-room she looked in, and the sight of the passengers sitting at well-filled tables made her feel very hungry, and she wondered if Cousin Tom would finish his book in time to give her any dinner. Somehow she felt sure he never would look up until he had finished the book.

She went back and sat down again beside him with a little sigh. But he didn't hear the little sigh, and kept on reading.

Patty looked at him curiously. There was little hope of his finishing the book, for he was only about half-way through it, and he read very slowly, turning the pages at long intervals. She could see his eyes move eagerly along the printed lines, as if delighted with what he found there.

She waited a while longer, and then said to herself, "I don't care, I'm going to speak to him. I've waited a million hours, and the dinner will be all eaten up."

She didn't speak, but she rose and stood by his side, and then with a sudden impulse she laid her hand with outspread fingers upon the page he was reading.

Cousin Tom jumped as if a firecracker had exploded in his vicinity, and he looked at Patty with a dazed expression.

"Bless my soul!" he said, "why, little one, I forgot all about you. Will you forgive me? Have you been here long? I was reading, you see, and I didn't hear you come."

"I've been here an hour, Cousin Tom," said Patty, demurely.

"An hour? No! Is it possible? You poor child, why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, I didn't mind," said Patty, "and you seemed to be all wrapped up in your book."

"Yes, I was,—I was. But I'll try to make amends. Come, let's go and have some dinner."

Taking Patty's hand, Cousin Tom strode along the saloon, and down the stairs, and Patty almost had to run to keep up with his long steps.

"Now," said he, as they seated themselves at a table and an obsequious waiter began to put ice and then water into their glasses. "Now, what would you like to eat?"

"Oh, anything at all," said Patty, gaily, "I'm hungry enough to eat,—I don't know what."

"Yes, yes, of course you are,—poor child,—so sorry I forgot you,—quite inexcusable of me."

Mr. Fleming was looking over the bill of fare as he talked, and then he looked doubtfully at Patty, as if uncertain what he ought to order for her.

"What would you like for your dinner, child? Now don't say you don't care, or that you'll leave it to me, for little girls always say that, and I declare I don't know what you ought to have."

"All right," said Patty, who was quite equal to the occasion. "Let's have some lobster mayonnaise, and some mushrooms under glass, and little tiny clams, and tutti-frutti and a Dewey Punch."

Cousin Tom stared at her in amazement.

"What are you talking about?" he exclaimed; "you'd be dead if you ate all those things. Are they on the bill of fare? What is a 'Dewey Punch'?"

"Oh, I don't die so easily as that. Ethelyn and I used to eat worse mixes than that, whenever we lunched at the New York restaurants, A Dewey Punch is a lovely kind of ice cream with strawberry jam or something poured all over it. I don't see it on the list; perhaps they don't have it. Never mind, we'll take meringue glacé."

"Indeed we won't. I've changed my mind and I'll order this dinner myself. You shall have some soup, a broiled chicken, some vegetables and a plain ice cream. There, how do you like that?"

Cousin Tom didn't speak crossly at all, but very decidedly, and there was a pleasant twinkle in his eye that took away all idea of censure, so Patty said, amiably:

"I think it will be very nice and I really don't care what we have, only you told me to suggest something, so I did."

"Certainly, that's all right, but your suggestions were suicidal. Are you familiar with Bacon?"

Oh, thought Patty, he's going to order the breakfast over night, and I hate bacon.

"Yes," she said, "but I don't like it at all."

"You don't? What a perverted taste. But Boston will soon change that. We have a Bacon club, which you shall join. It is a most delightful club, and you will like it, I'm sure. I fancy that in a few weeks I shall see you devouring Bacon with intense enjoyment."

Indeed I won't, thought Patty. She was about to say that her Uncle Robert belonged to a Terrapin Club, but refrained, thinking it might be impolite to imply disparagement to the more lowly bacon.

So she changed the subject, and said:

"Please, Cousin Tom, tell me something of your family. It's so queer to go to see people and not know anything about them beforehand. But so far, my relatives have been very nice."

"Oh, the Flemings are a wonderful family," said Cousin Tom, gaily, "we are all going to do something great, but somehow we haven't hit it off yet."

"Cousin Elizabeth is an author, isn't she?" inquired Patty, a little timidly, for she had never seen a real, live author.

"Yes," said Mr. Fleming, "Elizabeth is an author, that is, she writes novels when she isn't doing anything else; Barbara is a club woman, but she writes too, more or less."

"And what do you do? Are you literary?"

"Yes, I'm writing a book, myself. It's a treatise on The Will, and I flatter myself I have some novel theories; and then there's Ruth, you know."

"Ruth, who is she?"

"Oh, she's our cousin, who lives with us. Not your cousin, you know. She is father's brother's child, and her people live in the country; so, as she has a fine mind, she lives with us in order to have the advantage of a Boston education."

"How old is she?" asked Patty.

"Fourteen or fifteen, I think. She'll be company for you; I think you'll like her, though she is very different from you."

"What is she like?" asked Patty, much interested in this new and unexpected comrade.

"Why, she is quiet, and very studious, and—but you'll see her yourself, to-morrow, so I'll let you form your own opinion."

After dinner they had a short promenade on deck, but the wind was so strong, that Patty was glad to return to the warm, light saloon, and they sat down on one of the red velvet sofas. Cousin Tom didn't resume his book, and Patty felt that he was politely trying to entertain her.

So with a desire to entertain him in return, she asked him to tell her about the book he was writing.

This seemed to please him immensely, and he eagerly launched into a description of its scope and plan.

As the subject was far above Patty's comprehension, she listened without understanding it clearly at all, and after a half hour or so, the continuous conversation, and the soothing motion of the boat caused the little girl quite unintentionally to fall sound asleep.

Mr. Fleming kept on talking for some time after this, when suddenly it occurred to him that his cousin sat very still, and peering round the corner of the big blue velvet hat, he discovered that his audience was quite oblivious to his learned discourse.

At first he looked a little annoyed, then he smiled compassionately, for the tired child seemed to be very peacefully resting, and her pretty head made a lovely picture against the red velvet sofa.

Mr. Fleming sent for the stewardess, and then awoke the little sleeper.

"Come, Patty," said he, gently tapping her on the shoulder, "it's bedtime, little girl, and you must run away to your bunk."

Patty opened her eyes and stared about her.

"Oh, Cousin Tom," she said, as she remembered the circumstances under which she had fallen asleep, "I'm so sorry,—I didn't mean to go to sleep, and I was interested."

"That's all right, my small cousin," said Mr. Fleming, "and now go along with the stewardess, and go to sleep and get a good night's rest." Patty did as Cousin Tom directed, and never wakened until she heard the steamer scraping against the dock early the next morning.

She rose and dressed quickly, and when the stewardess came for her, she was quite ready to go to meet Cousin Tom, who awaited her in the cabin.

"I shall give you a roll and a cup of coffee," he said, as if half afraid that Patty would want to order unheard-of dishes, "for they are expecting us home to breakfast, and we have only fifteen minutes before our train starts for Boston."

Patty drank her coffee and ate her roll with a relish, and declared herself ready to start. A short ride in the cars brought them to Boston. They left the train and entered the waiting-room, where Cousin Tom placed Patty in a seat, and told her to stay there and not move while he attended to her trunks.

Patty obediently sat still, and soon she saw Cousin Tom returning. But just before he reached her, he met a man whom he evidently knew, and whom he seemed overjoyed to meet. The two men talked earnestly together, and then both turned and walked away.

Patty had seen instances of her cousin's absent-mindedness, even since he had neglected to take her to dinner the night before, and she guessed at once that he had forgotten her existence, and was going away with his friend.

She had no intention of being deserted in this way, so she left the bags and wraps which she was supposed to be guarding, and ran after him.

"Cousin Tom!" she cried as she caught up with him, "where are you going?"

"Bless my soul!" he exclaimed, staring at her, "I forgot you were with me.

What shall I do? Allow me to present Mr. Harding. Ted, this is my cousin, Miss Patty Fairfield; I am supposed to be escorting her home, but if what you tell me is so, I must go at once to see Varian. Wait, I have it, Patty;

I'll send you home by a messenger; you don't mind, do you?"

"No, indeed, Cousin Tom," said Patty; "send me any way you like."

So Mr. Fleming called a messenger-boy, and giving Patty, and all the wraps and bags into his charge, he sent them to his mother's house. "Tell them I met Harding, and had to go away with him on some very important business," he said to Patty. "I'll be home to-night,—good-bye."

And with a hasty hand-shake, he turned again to his friend and they walked rapidly away.

"Come this way, miss," said the messenger, who was a tall youth, polite and deferential, and who appeared not at all surprised at the order given him. "I'll take you along all right."

He piloted Patty with great care and after riding for some distance on the street cars, they arrived at Mrs. Fleming's house.

CHAPTER IX
THE FLEMINGS

The messenger-boy rang the door bell, and a white-capped maid opened the door. When she saw the uniformed youth, she held out her hand for his book, signed it and dismissed him.

Then turning to Patty, she said, "This way, miss," and ushered her into a small reception room.

As Patty wrote to her father afterwards, she felt like a package sent from a department store, and she looked down, almost expecting to find herself wrapped in paper and tied with a string.

After she had waited about ten minutes, a tall young woman came quickly down-stairs and passed along the hall. She had on a hat and jacket, and was evidently going away in a great hurry.

As she went by the reception room, she caught sight of Patty through the open door, and stopped in surprise.

"Good-morning," she said, in a quick, hurried way. "Did you wish to see me?"

"I don't know," said Patty, uncertain whether this was a cousin or a visitor at the house. "I am Patty Fairfield."

"Oh, yes, of course,—our cousin from the South. I'm so glad to see you,"—she shook Patty's hand hastily,—"but I must ask you to excuse me this morning, as I am just going to a meeting of the 'Current Events' Club, and I am already five minutes late."

With an apologetic smile she hastened away, and Patty waited again.

Then she heard another step on the stairs, and another lady entered the room. This time it was Aunt Hester. She was a delicate looking little woman with silver hair, but Patty knew her at once from her resemblance to her father, who was Mrs. Fleming's brother.

"My dear child," said her aunt, as she kissed Patty, affectionately, "we are very glad to have you with us. But where is Tom?"

"He met a friend, Mr. Harding, and went away with him on very important business. He said to tell you he would be home to-night, and he sent me here by a messenger-boy."

"Very well; I am glad you reached here safely. Are you hungry? Have you breakfasted?"

"I had coffee and rolls on the boat, but I am hungry," said Patty, frankly.

"Of course you are; well, you shall have something to eat. Let me look at you. Yes, you do look a little like brother Fred. How old are you?"

"Fourteen," replied Patty.

"Ah, just the age of Ruth Fleming, who lives with us, and who will be pleasant company for you. I hope you will be happy with us, my dear, and you mustn't mind being left to yourself a bit, for we are very busy people. Life is too short to be wasted in idleness."

"Yes," assented Patty, thinking that this aunt was indeed very different from Aunt Isabel.

"And now," continued Mrs. Fleming, "I am going to send Molly to you, and she will show you to your room, and afterwards give you some breakfast. I must ask you to excuse me this morning, as I have to go to the sewing-class. Ruth is at school, but we will all meet at luncheon which is served promptly at one."

Mrs. Fleming went away, not hurriedly, but with a quick, decided step, and in a few moments Molly, the maid appeared.

She was a merry-looking Irish girl, and her pleasant smile was such a contrast to the preoccupied manners of the ladies, that Patty felt friendly towards her at once.

"Come with me, Miss Fairfield," she said, and taking up Patty's hand-luggage, she led the way to a room on the third floor. It was a good-sized room, very neat and well-furnished, but with none of the luxury and beauty of Patty's room at Villa Rosa.

There was a square dressing-table and exactly in the centre of it was a square pincushion, with a glass toilet bottle on either side and behind it a smaller glass bottle to match. The chairs were stiff and straight, and there was a haircloth sofa with a small, square pillow at each end and one in the middle.

In the centre of the room was a table with books on it, and writing materials, and a drop-light hung over it from the chandelier above.

Though plain in its appointments, the room was light and airy and exquisitely neat and well-kept.

Molly deftly unfastened Patty's bag and shawl-straps, and then said:

"Now, miss, I'll go below, and when you're ready, come down three flights of stairs to the dining-room, and I'll give you some breakfast."

Patty thanked her, and when she had left the room, Patty sat down in the small, straight-backed rocking-chair to "think herself out," as she sometimes expressed it.

She felt a little homesick for the warm-hearted friends at Villa Rosa, and yet she felt sure her Boston relatives were going to be very nice, if only they could ever find time to talk to her.

She wondered if the ladies were always hurrying off to club-meetings, and if Ruth were always studying. She would be glad when Cousin Tom came home, for she was very sure she liked him.

She looked critically at her surroundings and decided that when her trunks came, and she could put the pretty things that she owned all about, the room would look much more cozy and attractive, and so, though her reception had chilled her a little, she thought that perhaps she would have a good time in Boston after all.

She jumped up and began to arrange such things as she had brought with her.

Her pretty silver brushes and trays looked somewhat out of place on the prim dressing-table, but Patty thought them a decided improvement. Then she unwrapped her mother's portrait, and placed it on the writing-table.

"It's a funny place, this, motherdy," she whispered to the picture, "and I don't know whether we'll like it or not; but we'll be happy together, you and I. And I think we'll like Aunt Hester, for she's papa's sister, you know, so she must be nice."

Then Patty went down the three flights of stairs, as directed, in search of

Molly.

"It's funny," she said to herself, "to go down cellar to breakfast. But I'm sure she said three flights," and sure enough, when she reached the basement, Molly met her with a kindly smile, saying,

"Come this way, miss," and Patty found that the front basement was the dining-room.

Its large windows were protected by iron railings, and the whole room had an air of solemn dignity rather than cheerfulness, but Molly was so pleasant and cordial that Patty felt cheerful at once.

The smiling Irish girl brought her some fruit, an omelet, hot rolls and delicious coffee, and after she had finished her solitary meal, Patty felt better able to cope with whatever might be awaiting her.

But apparently, nothing awaited her.

It was about ten o'clock, and as luncheon was announced for one, Patty wondered what she was expected to do in the meantime.

She asked Molly where Miss Elizabeth Fleming was.

"Laws, miss," said Molly, rolling her eyes, "don't make no attempt for to see her. She's writin' a novel, and she's up in her den on the fourth floor. We don't even call her to her meals. If she wants to come, she comes; and if she don't, I takes a few things up and sets 'em outside her door."

"Oh," said Patty, with great interest, "can't you speak to people when they're writing novels?"

"Indade, no, miss. It spiles the whole thing, and they has to begin all over again if a word is spoken to them."

"I think that's wonderful," said Patty, much impressed, "and I'm just crazy to see my Cousin Elizabeth. And Ruth, where is she?"

"Miss Ruth, she's at her school, miss, around on the next block. She'll be home at one o'clock and then you'll see her. Now why don't ye go and lie down and rest yerself?"

"But I'm not tired," said Patty, "I just want to get started; get to living here, you know. Can't I go into the library and look at some of the books?"

"Yes, miss, sure, if there's nobody there. I'll shlip up an' peep."

Molly went softly up-stairs, and Patty followed on tiptoe. It seemed strange to be so quiet, for at Villa Rosa everybody seemed to try to make all the noise possible.

"You can go in," said Molly, after her peep, "nobody's there; but the chairs is all settin' in rows, so I guess a club or somethin' is comin'. But go in, miss, dear, an' amuse yerself."

So Patty went in the library, which was a large back room on the main floor.

It has been said that a house without a library is like a body without a soul, and surely the library was the soul of the Fleming home. It was a beautiful room, built out behind the rest of the house, with a large skylight of stained glass, and a wide bay window whose cushioned seats looked very attractive.

Patty sat down and looked about her. The room was furnished with many well-filled bookcases, several small desks and tables, and a number of reading-chairs, whose broad arms held books and magazines.

Patty began at once to examine the titles of the books, and was delighted to find a large case full of children's books, containing all her old favorites, and many more that she had never read.

She selected "The Water Babies," which belonged to the latter class, and curling herself up on the window-seat, was soon absorbed in the story.

A little later, she heard the street door open and shut, and then Cousin Barbara whisked hurriedly into the library. She didn't see Patty at first, but sat down at a desk at the other end of the room, and hastily sorted over some papers.

"Ten-thirty to eleven-thirty, pigs," she murmured; "eleven-thirty to twelve, write paper on Choctaw costumes; twelve to one, attend Bootblacks' dinner. Ten-thirty! Why it's time for the pigs now."

"Will I interfere with the pigs if I stay here, Cousin Barbara?" said

Patty, curious to see the animals appear, but not wishing to intrude.

"What! are you there, Patty? Yes, you may stay if you like, but make no noise or disturbance of any kind."

"I won't," said Patty, and then Miss Barbara proceeded to ignore her small cousin's presence, and in her hurried way, prepared her books and papers, and laid small slips of paper and pencils in various chairs, and occasionally jotted down something in a small note-book which she took from her pocket.

Soon several strange ladies were ushered into the room by Molly, and Patty was much disappointed by the fact that they brought no pigs with them, and was just hoping that they would arrive later, when the meeting was called to order, and she learned that it was a committee from the Town Improvement Association, to consider ways and means for the amelioration of the general condition of the Common Pig.

Patty thought this was very funny, and wanted to laugh when the ladies discussed it seriously and with great enthusiasm. Sometimes several talked at once, and then Cousin Barbara rapped on her desk with a little hammer and they began all over again.

At half-past eleven, they all went away, and Cousin Barbara whipped out her packets of papers once more. Then she selected several books from the shelves, and sat down to write. Presently she looked up, bewildered.

"Can I help you, Cousin Barbara?" said Patty, eager to be of assistance.

"No,—yes,—" said her cousin, absent-mindedly. "Yes—if you will please hand me the encyclopedia—the one labeled cho—"

Patty easily found the desired volume and carried it to her cousin, who said, "Thank you," and then scribbled away as fast as she could until the clock struck twelve.

"Now," she said, thrusting her papers in her desk, "I must go to the Bootblacks' Dinner," and hastily putting on her jacket and gloves,—she had kept on her hat,—she flew out of the room, and almost instantly the street door closed behind her.

Then Patty resumed her book and read until one o'clock, when a great gong that could be heard all over the house announced luncheon.

Delighted at the thought of seeing the family at last, Patty skipped down-stairs.

Aunt Hester was in the dining-room and greeted her niece cordially.

"Well, my dear," she said, "I hope you found something to amuse you this morning. To-morrow, if you wish, you may go to school with Ruth. Ah, here she comes now. Ruth, this is Patty Fairfield, my brother's child, from Richmond."

"I am very glad to see you," said Patty pleasantly. "Cousin Tom told me you were here, and I hope we shall be good friends."

"I hope so," said Ruth, a little awkwardly, for she was a trifle confused by the graceful elegance of Patty's manner.

Ruth Fleming was a thin slip of a girl, with a very pale face, large gray eyes, and light brown hair which was smoothly brushed back, and tightly braided. She wore a gray dress and her whole effect was plain and colorless.

Her face was pure and intellectual, but so calm and expressionless that Patty wondered if she ever laughed aloud, and if she ever enjoyed herself very much in any way.

Ruth took her place at the table without another word, and Patty sat down beside her determined to make her say something, if she had to pinch her.

But just then Cousin Elizabeth came in, and Patty rose to greet her.

Miss Elizabeth Fleming was a large, handsome woman with black hair, and snapping black eyes, and such a winning smile that Patty liked her at once.

"Well, Patty cousin, have you come at last?" she said. "I've been waiting for you several years, and I'm very glad to see you." She gave Patty an affectionate caress, and kept on talking as she seated herself at the table. Patty afterwards discovered that Cousin Elizabeth always kept on talking, no matter what happened, or who else was talking at the time.

"Yes," she said, "we've all wanted to see our Southern cousin, and now that I have seen you, I think you are delightful. Mother, Geraldine has been the hatefullest thing this morning; she just sat down on a blue satin sofa, and she wouldn't move, nor she wouldn't say a word. I declare I've lost all patience with her."

"Who is Geraldine?" said Patty, "is there any one else in the family?"

"Geraldine is the heroine of my new novel," said Cousin Elizabeth, "and she is lovely, but so intractable. You wouldn't believe how sulky and stupid she gets at times. Ah, Barbara," as her sister bustled into the room, and dropped into a chair at the table, "how are the bootblacks?"

"Oh, they're lovely," said Barbara, "they ate all the dinner, and then stole the forks. I rescued some of them, though—Elizabeth, can't you go to see the Common Council this afternoon about that Statue Fund? I have a Mothers' Meeting at two, and after that we rehearse the Greek pantomime, and oh, mother, did you keep that Greek robe of mine, or did you give it away?"

"I gave it to a peddler," said Mrs. Fleming; "it was full of moth holes, and soiled besides. He gave me two saucepans for it."

"Never mind, sis," said Elizabeth, "you can borrow a Greek robe from Martha Fowler; she has one, I know, and I'll stop there for it, as I return from the Authors' Tea. Ruth, what have you on hand for this afternoon?"

"I practice until three, Cousin Elizabeth, then 'The Golden Branch' from three till four, and after that my French lesson and the Physical Culture class."

"H'm, well,—somebody ought to entertain Patty. Mother, what are your plans?"

"I have to go out to Cambridge this afternoon to collect for the Dorcas Aid Society. Patty can go with me if she likes, but I'm afraid she wouldn't enjoy it very much."

"No, I'll take Patty with me," said Cousin Elizabeth, very decidedly. "She'll like the Authors' Tea, I know, and if we have time, we'll look in at the Library."

When luncheon was over, they all flew away on their respective errands, and Cousin Elizabeth told Patty to put on her hat and coat, and meet her in the reception-room in ten minutes.