Grinning like a Chessy Cat,
if you don't stop looking so everlasting1 cheerful, I'll throw something at you!"
"Throw," returned Patty, as her grin perceptibly and purposely widened to the full extent of her scarlet2 lips.
"All right!" and Elise threw a sofa cushion and another and another, following them up with a knitted afghan, a silk slumber3 robe, and then beginning on a pile of newspapers.
Patty, who was lounging on a broad divan4, protected her face with a down pillow, and contentedly5 endured the avalanche6.
Then, as the enemy's stock of missiles gave out, she sat up, flinging the impedimenta right and left, and her smiling face and tumbled curls triumphantly7 braved further assault.
"It's snowing like the very dickens," Elise declared, disconsolately8.
"I don't see any snow," and Patty shut her blue eyes tight.
"Of course you don't, you old goose! If a roaring Bengal tiger stood in front of you, with full intent of eating you at once, you'd shut your eyes and say, 'There isn't any tiger there.' That is, if you had time to get the words out before you slipped down his throat."
Leisurely9, Patty got up, shook her rumpled10 skirts, and walked to the window.
"It does look like snow," she observed, critically eyeing the landscape.
"Look like snow!" cried Elise; "it's a blizzard11, that's what it is!"
"Well, doesn't a blizzard look like snow? It does to me. And I don't know anything nicer than a whole long day in the house. I'm having the time of my life."
Patty threw herself into a big armchair, in front of the blazing log fire, and contentedly held out her slippered12 feet to the glowing warmth.
"But we were going to play tennis, and——"
"My dear child, tennis will keep. And what's the use of growling13? As you remark, it is a young blizzard, and we can't possibly stop it, so let's make the best of it, and have what is known in the kiddy-books as Indoor Pastimes."
"Patty, you're enough to exasperate14 a saint! You and your eternal cheerfulness!"
"All right, anything to please," and Patty assumed a doleful expression, drew down the corners of her mouth, and wrung15 her hands in mock despair.
"Isn't it mean," she wailed16; "here's this horrid17, hateful old snowstorm, and we can't go outdoors or anything! I'm mad as a hornet, as a hatter, as a wet hen, as a March hare, as a—as hops18, as—what else gets awful mad, Elise?"
"I shall, if you continue to act like an idiot!"
"My good heavens!" and Patty rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, "there's no pleasing her—positively19 no pleasing her! What to do! What to do!"
But Elise's face had cleared up, and as she looked from the window, she smiled gaily20.
"He's coming!" she cried, "Sam's coming!"
Patty hastily adjusted her dignity and sat up with a formal air to greet the visitor, while Elise scrabbled up the sofa cushions and newspapers.
The girls were down at Lakewood. Patty was the guest of Elise, whose family had taken a cottage there for the season. That is, it was called a cottage, but was in reality an immense house, most comfortably and delightfully21 appointed. Patty was still supposed to be convalescing22 from her recent illness, but, as a matter of fact, she had regained23 her health and strength, and, though never robust24, was entirely25 well.
The invitation to Pine Laurel, as the house was called, was a welcome one, and the elder Fairfields were glad to have Patty go there for a fortnight or so. She had arrived but the day before, and now the unexpected snowstorm had spoiled the plans for tennis and other outdoor affairs. Though it was late November, it was early for such a tempestuous26 snowstorm, and the weather-wise ones opined that it was a mere27 swift and sudden flurry.
Patty, with her usual adaptability28 to circumstances, didn't care much, and felt pretty sure the storm would depart as quickly as it had gathered. She was quite willing to stay indoors a day or two if need be, and could easily amuse herself in many ways. Not so Elise. She was impatient and impetuous, and was always greatly put out if her plans went awry29. But the diversion of an unexpected guest roused her to animation30 and she poked31 the logs to a brighter blaze by way of welcome.
After the sound of stamping and whisking off snow in the hall, a young man came into the pleasant sun-parlour where the girls were.
It was with difficulty that Patty concealed32 her amazement33 as she looked at him. He was of a type that she had heard of, but had never before chanced to meet.
Mechanically, she went through the formalities of the introduction, and sat staring at him, without realising that she was doing so.
"Well," said Sam Blaney, at last, "what about it? Do I get a blue ribbon?"
"Oh, I beg your pardon!" and Patty blushed at her rudeness. "You see, you er—you reminded me of somebody I have met——"
"No, you mean I remind you of somebody you never have met, but are glad to discover at last."
Patty laughed outright34, for the words so definitely expressed her state of mind. Thus encouraged, she continued to look at him.
Blaney was not so extraordinary of appearance, but he presented the effects of the class known as artistic35. His thick, fair hair, while it could scarcely be called long, was a trifle longer than the conventional cut. His collar, while not Byronic, was low, and he wore a Windsor tie, of a sickly, pale green. He was a big man, but loose-jointed and ungainly of build. His manners were careless, and his voice was low and soft. He had big grey eyes, which seemed especially noticeable by reason of enormous tortoise-rimmed glasses, whose long, thick bows hooked over his ears.
"You are a poet," Patty said, decisively, after a smiling survey; "and you are right, I have always wanted to know a live poet."
"I hope," said Blaney, in a mournful way, "that you don't agree with those wiseacres who think the only good poet is a dead poet."
"Oh, goodness, no!" said Patty, quickly. "But most of the poetry with which I am familiar was written by dead men—that is, they weren't dead when they wrote it, you know——"
"But died from the shock?"
"Now you're making fun of me," and Patty pouted36, but as Patty's pout37 was only a shade less charming than her smile, the live poet didn't seem to resent it.
"Doubtless," he went on, "my work will not be really famous until after I am dead, but some day I shall read them to you, and get your opinion as to their hopes for a future."
"Oh, do read them to Patty," exclaimed Elise; "read them now. That's the very thing for a stormy day!"
"Yes," Patty agreed; "if you have an Ode to Spring, or Lines on a Blooming Daffodil, it would be fine to fling them in the teeth of this storm."
"I see you're by way of being a wag, Miss Fairfield," Blaney returned, good-naturedly. "But you've misapprehended my vein38. I write poems, not jingles39."
"He does," averred40 Elise, earnestly. "Oh, Sam, do recite some—won't you?"
"Not now, Lady fair. The setting isn't right, and the flowers are too vivid."
Patty looked at the two large vases of scarlet carnations41 that stood on the long, massive table in the middle of the room. She had thought them a very pleasant and appropriate decoration for the snowy day, but Blaney's glance at them was disdainful.
"He's an affected42 idiot!" she exclaimed to herself. "I don't like him one bit!"
"Please like me," said the poet's soft voice, and Patty fairly jumped to realise that he had read her thought in her face.
"Oh, I do!" she said, with mock fervour, and a slight flush of embarrassment43 at her carelessness. "I like you heaps!"
"Don't be too set up over that," laughed Elise, "for Patty likes everybody. She's the greatest little old liker you ever saw! Why, she even likes people who don't like her."
"Are there such?" asked Blaney, properly.
"Yes, indeed," Patty declared; "and I can't help admiring their good taste."
"I can't either," and Blaney spoke44 so seriously, that Patty almost gasped45.
"That isn't the answer," she smiled; "you should have contradicted me."
"No," the poet went on; "people who don't like you show real discrimination. It is because you are so crude and unformed of soul."
But Patty was too wise to be caught with such chaff46.
"Yes, that's it," she said, and nodded her curly head in assent47.
"You say yes, because you don't know what I'm talking about. But it's true. If you had your soul scraped and cleaned and properly polished, you would be well worth liking48."
"Go on! go on!" cried Patty, clapping her hands. "Now I know you're the real thing in poets! That's the way I thought they would talk! Say more."
But Blaney turned sulky. He scowled49 at Patty, he threw a reproachful glance at Elise, and the atmosphere suddenly charged with gloom.
Patty felt that it was her fault and that she had perhaps gone too far. The man was Elise's guest and it wasn't right to make fun of him, if he did sound foolish. So, ignoring the past conversation, Patty smiled, and said, "It is too bad about the storm, isn't it? We had expected to have such a fine tennis game today. You play, of course?"
It was a chance shot, but Patty felt pretty sure that such a big, muscular chap would be fond of outdoor sports and, as it turned out, he was. Moreover, it would be a grumpy poet, indeed, who wouldn't relent under the magic of Patty's smile.
"Yes, I do," he replied, animatedly50, and then the talk turned to the game, and the chances of the storm abating51 and play being possible in a day or two.
"Hello, Blaney," said Roger Farrington, coming into the room. "How's everything?"
"All right, Farry. How goes it with you?"
"Fine. I say, girls, are you game for a little two-cent sleigh ride in the storm? As soon as it stops snowing, the flakes52 will melt like morning dew, and, if we catch a ride at all, it must be immejit. How about it?"
"I'd love to go!" cried Patty, her eyes sparkling. "I haven't had a sleigh ride in ages——"
"And no telling when you will again," said Roger. "But it's blowing great guns, and snowing fast. You're sure you want to go?"
"Course we do," insisted Elise. "Shall we get our things now?"
"Not quite yet. I'll have to telephone Mr. Livery Man for a rig. This otherwise well-stocked outfit53 that we're inhabiting doesn't have such a thing on the premises54 as a sleigh. I'll go and see about it."
"Can't we stop and pick up Alla?" suggested Elise.
"No," and Sam Blaney shook his head decidedly. "My sister wouldn't think of putting her nose out-of-doors on a day like this. I'm surprised that you will, Miss Fairfield."
"Oh, I'm a tough pine knot. I may not look the part, but I assure you wind and weather have no terrors for me."
"That's so," put in Elise. "Patty looks like a chaff which the wind driveth away, but it would be a pretty strong old wind that could do it."
"You can't tell by looks; my sister looks like a strong, hearty56 girl, but she's as fragile as a spring crocus."
"There's nothing fragiler than that," Patty remarked; "I've often tried to keep the flimsy little things for a few hours, and even in water they droop57 and peak and pine all to pieces."
"That's just like Alla," said Blaney. "She's psychic58, you see——"
"Oh, is she!" cried Patty. "I've always wanted to know a real psychic.
Mayn't I meet her?"
"Indeed you may, she'll be pleased. Will you come round to the studio today, while we're out sleighing?"
"No, not today," said Elise, positively. "Roger wouldn't stand for it. He'll want to put in all the time there is on the road. And he's going to New York tonight, I think."
"Oh, yes," and Blaney remembered. "Let's see, his wedding day is—when is it?"
"Not till the fifteenth of December. But he and Mona have so much to look after and attend to, that he spends most of his time on the road between here and New York."
"Isn't Mona coming down here while I'm here?" asked Patty.
"She promised to," Elise replied, "but Mona's promises are not to be implicitly59 depended on just now. She's getting married with all her time and attention."
"Well, a wedding like hers is to be does take a lot of planning. And Mona's looking after everything herself. She's a genius at that sort of thing, but it seems as if she ought to have some one to help her,—some relative, I mean."
"Her father's a big help," said Roger, who had returned just in time to hear Patty's remark.
"Yes, I know it, but I mean a woman relative."
"I know," agreed Roger. "You're right, in a way. But Mona is so accustomed to managing for herself that I'm pretty sure a meddling60 relative would bother her to death."
"Probably would," agreed Patty. "Do we go sleigh-ridy, Roger?"
"We do. The fiery61 steeds will be here in fifteen minutes. Get warm wraps, for it's blowing like blazes. Shall we go 'round by your studio, Sam, and drop in on Alla?"
"No, please. I don't want to seem inhospitable, but I've decided55 I want Miss Fairfield to see the studio first under proper conditions. I want Alla to know when she's coming and——"
"And have her hair frizzed. I get you. All right. We'll drive 'round the lake, and see how the going is, and then decide whether to keep on, or go to some friend's for a cup of tea."
"You mustn't think my sister is a fuss," said Blaney to Patty, as she started to leave the room. "But you know the artist soul likes to have the stage rightly set for an important scene."
"Yes," said Patty, a little puzzled.
"Yes. And your advent62 at my studio is a most important scene——"
"Why?" asked Patty, bluntly.
"Because you're important. In fact, I may say you're the most important person I have ever seen."
"Really? But if you say things like that, you'll make me vain."
"You can't well be vainer than you are."
Patty looked up in sudden anger at this speech, but Blaney's eyes were quietly amused, and his soft voice was so innocent of offence, that Patty was uncertain what attitude to assume, and to save the necessity of a reply she ran from the room and upstairs to get ready for the ride.
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1
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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disconsolately
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| adv.悲伤地，愁闷地；哭丧着脸 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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blizzard
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| n.暴风雪 | |
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slippered
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| 穿拖鞋的 | |
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growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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exasperate
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| v.激怒，使（疾病）加剧，使恶化 | |
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15
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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18
hops
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| 跳上[下]( hop的第三人称单数 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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convalescing
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| v.康复( convalesce的现在分词 ) | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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adaptability
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| n.适应性 | |
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awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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31
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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pouted
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pout
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| v.撅嘴；绷脸；n.撅嘴；生气，不高兴 | |
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vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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39
jingles
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| 叮当声( jingle的名词复数 )； 节拍十分规则的简单诗歌 | |
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40
averred
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| v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；证明…属实；作为事实提出 | |
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carnations
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| n.麝香石竹，康乃馨( carnation的名词复数 ) | |
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42
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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44
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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45
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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46
chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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48
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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49
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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animatedly
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| adv.栩栩如生地，活跃地 | |
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51
abating
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| 减少( abate的现在分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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52
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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53
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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55
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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56
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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57
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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58
psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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60
meddling
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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61
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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62
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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