"And can't you accomplish it?"

"I don't see how I can; my parents are very much opposed to it. They hate anything like a public career, and they think I sing quite well enough now without further instructions."

"I think so, too," said Patty. "I'd rather hear you sing those quaint little songs of yours than to hear the most elaborate trills and frills that any prima donna ever accomplished."

"Your opinion is worth a great deal to me, Patty, as a friend, but technically, I can't value it so highly."

"Of course, I don't know much about music," said Patty, quite unabashed; "but papa thinks so too. He said your voice is the sweetest voice he ever heard."

"Did he?" said Nan.

"What is your ambition, Patty?" said Marian, after a moment's pause. "Nan and I have expressed ourselves so frankly you might tell us yours."

"My ambition?" said Patty. "Why, I never thought of it before, but I don't believe I have any. I feel rather ashamed, for I suppose every properly equipped young woman ought to have at least one ambition, and I don't seem to have a shadow of one. Really great ones, I mean. Of course, I can sing a little; not much, but it seems to be enough for me. And I can play a little on the piano and on the banjo, and I suppose it's shocking; but really I don't care to play any better than I do. I can't paint, and I can't write stories, but I don't want to do either."

"You can keep house," said Marian.

Patty's eyes lighted up.

"Yes," she said; "isn't it ridiculous? But I do really believe that's my ambition. To keep house just perfectly, you know, and have everything go not only smoothly but happily."

"You ought to have been a _chatelaine_ of the fourteenth century," said Nan.

"Yes," said Patty eagerly; "that's just my ambition. What a pity it's looking backward instead of forward. But I would love to live in a great stone castle, all my own, with a moat and drawbridge and outriders, and go around in a damask gown with a pointed bodice and big puffy sleeves and a ruff and a little cap with pearls on it, and a bunch of keys jingling at my side."

"They usually carry the keys in a basket," observed Marian; "and you forgot to mention the falcon on your wrist."

"So I did," said Patty, "but I think the falcon would be a regular nuisance while I was housekeeping, so I'd put him in the basket, and set it up on the mantelpiece, and keep my keys jingling from my belt."

"Well, it seems," said Nan, "that Patty has more hopes of realising her ambition than either of us."

"Speak for yourself," said Marian.

"I think I have," said Patty. "I have all the keys I want, and I'm quite sure papa would buy me a falcon if I asked him to."

CHAPTER XXIV

AN AFTERNOON DRIVE

The next Sat.u.r.day Mr. Fairfield proposed that they all go for a drive to Allaire.

"What's Allaire?" said Patty.

"It's a deserted village," replied her father. "The houses are empty, the old mill is silent, the streets are overgrown; in fact, it's nothing but a picturesque ruin of a once busy hamlet."

"They say it's a lovely drive," said Nan. "I've always wanted to go there."

"The boys will be down by noon," said Mr. Elliott, "and we can get off soon after luncheon. Do you suppose, Fred, we can get conveyances enough for our large and flourishing family?"

"We can try," said Mr. Fairfield. "I'll go over to the stables now and see what I can secure."

On his return he found that Hepworth, Kenneth, and Frank had arrived.

"Well, Sat.u.r.day's children," he said, "I'm glad to see you. I always know it's the last day of the week when this ill.u.s.trious trio bursts upon my vision."

"We're awfully glad to burst," said Frank; "and we hope your vision can stand it."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Fairfield; "the sight of you is good for the eyes.

And now I'll tell you the plans for the afternoon."

"What luck did you have with the carriages, papa?" asked impatient Patty.

"That's what I'm about to tell you, my child, if you'll give me half a chance. I secured four safe, and more or less commodious, vehicles."

"Four!" exclaimed Marian. "We'll be a regular parade."

"Shall we have a band?" asked Nan.

"Of course," said Kenneth; "and a fife-and-drum corps besides."

"You won't need that," said Patty, "for there'll be no 'Girl I Left Behind Me.' We're all going."

"Of course we're all going," said Mr. Fair-field; "and as we shall have one extra seat, you can invite some girl who otherwise would be left behind."

"If Frank doesn't mind," said Patty, with a mischievous glance at her cousin, "I'd like to ask Miss Kitty Nelson."

They all laughed, for Frank's admiration for the charming Kitty was an open secret.

Frank blushed a little, but he held his own and said:

"Are they all double carriages, Uncle Fred?"

"No, my boy; there are two traps and two victorias."

"All right, then, I'll take one of the traps and drive Miss Nelson."

"Bravo, boy! if you don't see what you want, ask for it. Miss Allen, will you trust yourself to me in the other trap?"

"With great pleasure, Mr. Fairfield," replied Nan; "and please appreciate my amiability, for I think they're most jolty and uncomfortable things to ride in."

"I speak for a seat in one of the victorias," said Aunt Alice; "and I think it wise to get my claim in quickly, as the bids are being made so rapidly."

"I don't care how I go," said Patty, "or what I go in. I'm so amiable, a child can play with me to-day. I'll go in a wheelbarrow, if necessary."

"I had hoped to drive you over myself," said Mr. Hepworth, who sat next to her, speaking in a low tone; "but I'll push you in a wheelbarrow, if you prefer."