Little Maid Marian - Amy Ella Blanchard (the best electronic book reader .txt) 📗

other people, for they don't know it and it doesn't make them feel bad if they don't get the things. When I get things for myself, sometimes I am a little wee bit disappointed because I am only make-believing. I think Dick would like one of those neckties, the red one, I think."

Marian felt suddenly very poverty-stricken; there were no Dollies or Dicks for her to buy make-believes for. She sighingly mentioned the fact to Patty.

"Oh, that doesn't make any difference," said Patty cheerfully; "you can buy for some one else. I think I'll get you that Roman sash."

"Oh, lovely, and I'll get you the blue one. Would you like it?"

"I'd love it."

"I might get Miss Dorothy one of those pretty lacey things in the case."

"That would be fine; she'd be so pleased." Patty spoke so exactly as if Marian really intended to buy it, that the latter laughed outright. Patty was really great fun.

"I'll get something for dear Mrs. Hunt," Marian went on.

"Oh, do. I know about her. Dolly wrote us how kind she was to her. She must be awfully nice."

Marian overlooked the "awfully." She was not going to criticise anything about Patty if she could help it. "I think I ought to get something for poor Miss Almira," she went on. "It is because she is so ill and couldn't make my coat that I could come to-day. What do you think would be nice for her, Patty?"

Patty's eyes roved around the big store. "See, those soft-looking wrappers hanging up way over there? I think one of those would be just the thing for a sick person. Let's go look at them and pick one out. We'll tell Dolly we are going. She will be at that counter for some time."

They left Miss Dorothy while they went upon their interesting errand of selecting a proper robe for Miss Almira. They decided upon one of lavender and white, and then they returned to find that Miss Dorothy had finished making her uninteresting purchases of tapes, thread and the like, so they went to another floor to look at coats. Marian's was chosen first and Patty was so pleased with it that she begged to have one like it, "If Marian doesn't mind," she said.

Marian did not in the least mind, in fact she would be delighted to know that she and Patty had coats alike, for then they could think of one another whenever they put them on. So one as near like Marian's as possible was selected for Patty, and then they went to a place Patty had been talking of all morning. This was an exhibition of moving pictures which Patty doted upon and which Miss Dorothy, herself, confessed she dearly liked. To Marian it was like exploring a new country, and she was filled with awe and delight, so they remained till the last minute and had to hurry in order to reach Griffin's by one o'clock.

Mr. Robbins was there, watch in hand. "Ten minutes late," he cried.

"It was that funny man trying to get his hat that kept us," declared Patty. "We had to see the end."

"She means the moving pictures," Miss Dorothy explained. "We were so absorbed we didn't realize how the time was going."

"Oh, well, well, never mind," said Mr. Robbins good-naturedly. "I have ordered lunch and we'll go eat it."

"Good!" exclaimed Patty. "I always like what dad orders much better than what I get myself. What did you get, daddy dear?"

"Beefsteak and French fried potatoes, hot rolls, chocolate for you ladies, coffee for myself. Would you like a salad, Dolly? We can have some ice-cream and cake, or whatever sweet you like, later."

Miss Dorothy declined the salad for them all, and her father led the way to a table near the windows where one could look out upon the street or in upon the room in which they were sitting. It was all very exciting and unusual to Marian who had never enjoyed such a high event in all her life as lunching at a restaurant with grown-ups. Everything was a matter of curiosity and pleasure from the garnished dish of beefsteak to the chocolate with whipped cream on top. The shining mirrors, the dextrous waiters, the music played by an orchestra, seated behind tall palms, made the place appear like fairy-land to the little village girl. "I'd like to do this every day," she confided to Patty.

"So should I," agreed Patty.

"No, you wouldn't," put in Mr. Robbins overhearing them. "You'd grow so tired of it that you would long for plain bread and butter in your own home. Nothing palls upon one so much as having to dine at a restaurant every day. I have tried it and I know."

Marian could scarcely believe this possible, but she supposed that such things appeared very different to men, and she was sure that it would be many, many years before she would grow tired of it. After luncheon there came more shopping, and the time arrived all too soon when they must start for home. At parting Patty slipped a little package into Marian's hand. "It's for you," she whispered. "It isn't the Roman sash, but I hope you will like it. Dolly is going to ask your grandma if she can't bring you to make us a visit some day."

"How I should love to do that," was the fervent answer. Marian felt very badly that she had nothing to give Patty in return for her gift. "If you were a heathen," she said gravely, "I might have something to give you, too. I hope grandma will let me make the visit. I mean to think of the mustard seed very hard and maybe she will let me." Then before she could explain this strange speech to the puzzled Patty, Mr. Robbins said they must hurry to the train, and she had to leave Patty on the platform waiting till her train should be called, and wondering what sort of girl Marian could be to say such very unusual things.

Marian waited till the train was fairly under way before she opened the package Patty had given her. She found it contained a little doll. On a piece of paper was scribbled: "You said you didn't have any little dolls, so I got you this one. It cost only five cents. I hope you will think of me when you play with it." The doll was one which Marian had admired in the Five Cent store, and which she had wished she could buy. "I don't see when she got it," she said to Miss Dorothy, turning the doll around admiringly.

"Don't you remember when you ran to the door to listen to the street band that was playing outside?"

"Oh, yes. Was it then?"

"It was then. Patty was so pleased to get it so secretly."

"I shall call it Patty," said Marian. "I shall love her very much; she is so cunning and little, and I can do all sorts of things with her that I can't do with my big doll." This tiny Patty was company all the way home, and in a measure took the place of her lively namesake. Marian had been obliged to rely upon her own invention and imagination so much in her little life, which had lacked childish comrades, that she could amuse herself very well alone or with slight things.

Miss Dorothy watched her as she murmured to the wee Patty and at last she said: "Have you had a good day, girlie?"

Marian cuddled up to her in the familiar way she had seen Patty do. "Oh, it has been a wonderful day, and I am so thankful for Patty," she said.

"Big Patty or this little one?" Miss Dorothy touched the doll with her gloved finger.

"For both. There is so much that is pleasant in the world, isn't there? Every little while something comes along that you never knew about before and it makes you glad. First you came, then there was school and the girls, and to-day came Patty and your father. He makes me feel very differently about fathers."

"He is a dear dad," said Miss Dorothy lovingly.

"Do you think mine will be like him? I've always thought of him as being like grandpa, not that grandpa isn't very nice," she added quickly, "but he doesn't think much about little girls, and never says funny jokey things to them as your father does. He never seems to notice the things I do, and your father talks to Patty about the little, little things I never knew grown up men were interested in."

"That's because he has to be father and mother, too. Our mother died when Patty was a baby, you know. Yes, daddy is a darling."

"I hope mine will be," said Marian earnestly. "I haven't any mother either, so perhaps he will feel like being father and mother, too. I wonder when I shall see him. I didn't use to think much about it, but since I have written to him, and all that, I think much more about him."

"That is perfectly natural, and I have no doubt but that when he finds out that you want to see him he will want to see you, and he will be crossing the ocean the first thing we know."

"Oh, do you really think so?"

"I shouldn't be at all surprised, only you mustn't count too much on it. We must be getting those photographs ready pretty soon."

"I would like one of Patty and me together, I mean Patty Robbins, this is Patty Otway," and she held out her doll.

"We'll see if that can be arranged."

"How can it when we don't live in the same place?"

"I have a little plan that I cannot tell you yet. If it works out all right I will let you know."

"Oh, Miss Dorothy, you are always making such lovely plans. What did I ever do without you? Has the plan anything to do with my going to visit Patty some time?"

"Maybe it has and maybe it hasn't. But, dear me, we are slowing up for Greenville. We must not be carried on to the next station. Have we all the things? Where is the umbrella? Oh, you have it. All right. I hope Heppy will give us hot cakes for supper, don't you?" So saying she led the way from the train and in a few minutes they were making their way up the familiar street which, strange to say, had not altered in the least since morning, although Marian felt that she had been away so long something must surely have happened meanwhile.


CHAPTER IX


A Visit to Patty

After all it was not so very long before Marian and Patty met again, for a little cough which developed soon after the trip to town in course of time grew worse, and in course of time the family doctor announced that Marian had whooping-cough. Mrs. Otway was aghast. She had a horror of contagious diseases and kept Marian at a distance. "She must not go to school," she said to Miss Dorothy, "for the other children might take it."

This was a great blow to Marian, for it meant not only staying away from school, but from her schoolmates upon whom she had begun to depend, so it was a very sorrowful face that she wore all that day, and time hung heavily upon her hands. She