“That will do. As I told you, it is not strictly necessary that we should let it at all. We are not rich, but we have enough to go to Europe on. I have never been in Europe in my life, and never expected or wanted to go. But my niece there, Maria Spofford, has taken a fancy to go. Now, you know a young person like Maria can’t go globetrotting alone.”
“No — I — I suppose not,” murmured Anne, seeing that Miss Patty was quite solemnly in earnest.
“Of course not. So I have to go along to look after her. I expect to enjoy it, too; I’m seventy years old, but I’m not tired of living yet. I daresay I’d have gone to Europe before if the idea had occurred to me. We shall be away for two years, perhaps three. We sail in June and we shall send you the key, and leave all in order for you to take possession when you choose. We shall pack away a few things we prize especially, but all the rest will be left.”
“Will you leave the china dogs?” asked Anne timidly.
“Would you like me to?”
“Oh, indeed, yes. They are delightful.”
A pleased expression came into Miss Patty’s face.
“I think a great deal of those dogs,” she said proudly. “They are over a hundred years old, and they have sat on either side of this fireplace ever since my brother Aaron brought them from London fifty years ago. Spofford Avenue was called after my brother Aaron.”
“A fine man he was,” said Miss Maria, speaking for the first time. “Ah, you don’t see the like of him nowadays.”
“He was a good uncle to you, Maria,” said Miss Patty, with evident emotion. “You do well to remember him.”
“I shall always remember him,” said Miss Maria solemnly. “I can see him, this minute, standing there before that fire, with his hands under his coat-tails, beaming on us.”
Miss Maria took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes; but Miss Patty came resolutely back from the regions of sentiment to those of business.
“I shall leave the dogs where they are, if you will promise to be very careful of them,” she said. “Their names are Gog and Magog. Gog looks to the right and Magog to the left. And there’s just one thing more. You don’t object, I hope, to this house being called Patty’s Place?”
“No, indeed. We think that is one of the nicest things about it.”
“You have sense, I see,” said Miss Patty in a tone of great satisfaction. “Would you believe it? All the people who came here to rent the house wanted to know if they couldn’t take the name off the gate during their occupation of it. I told them roundly that the name went with the house. This has been Patty’s Place ever since my brother Aaron left it to me in his will, and Patty’s Place it shall remain until I die and Maria dies. After that happens the next possessor can call it any fool name he likes,” concluded Miss Patty, much as she might have said, “After that — the deluge.” “And now, wouldn’t you like to go over the house and see it all before we consider the bargain made?”
Further exploration still further delighted the girls. Besides the big livingroom, there was a kitchen and a small bedroom downstairs. Upstairs were three rooms, one large and two small. Anne took an especial fancy to one of the small ones, looking out into the big pines, and hoped it would be hers. It was papered in pale blue and had a little, old-timey toilet table with sconces for candles. There was a diamond-paned window with a seat under the blue muslin frills that would be a satisfying spot for studying or dreaming.
“It’s all so delicious that I know we are going to wake up and find it a fleeting vision of the night,” said Priscilla as they went away.
“Miss Patty and Miss Maria are hardly such stuff as dreams are made of,” laughed Anne. “Can you fancy them ‘globetrotting’ — especially in those shawls and caps?”
“I suppose they’ll take them off when they really begin to trot,” said Priscilla, “but I know they’ll take their knitting with them everywhere. They simply couldn’t be parted from it. They will walk about Westminster Abbey and knit, I feel sure. Meanwhile, Anne, we shall be living in Patty’s Place — and on Spofford Avenue. I feel like a millionairess even now.”
“I feel like one of the morning stars that sang for joy,” said Anne.
Phil Gordon crept into Thirty-eight, St. John’s, that night and flung herself on Anne’s bed.
“Girls, dear, I’m tired to death. I feel like the man without a country — or was it without a shadow? I forget which. Anyway, I’ve been packing up.”
“And I suppose you are worn out because you couldn’t decide which things to pack first, or where to put them,” laughed Priscilla.
“Ezackly. And when I had got everything jammed in somehow, and my landlady and her maid had both sat on it while I locked it, I discovered I had packed a whole lot of things I wanted for Convocation at the very bottom. I had to unlock the old thing and poke and dive into it for an hour before I fished out what I wanted. I would get hold of something that felt like what I was looking for, and I’d yank it up, and it would be something else. No, Anne, I did NOT swear.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“Well, you looked it. But I admit my thoughts verged on the profane. And I have such a cold in the head — I can do nothing but sniffle, sigh and sneeze. Isn’t that alliterative agony for you? Queen Anne, do say something to cheer me up.”
“Remember that next Thursday night, you’ll be back in the land of Alec and Alonzo,” suggested Anne.
Phil shook her head dolefully.
“More alliteration. No, I don’t want Alec and Alonzo when I have a cold in the head. But what has happened you two? Now that I look at you closely you seem all lighted up with an internal iridescence. Why, you’re actually SHINING! What’s up?”
“We are going to live in Patty’s Place next winter,” said Anne triumphantly. “Live, mark you, not board! We’ve rented it, and Stella Maynard is coming, and her aunt is going to keep house for us.”
Phil bounced up, wiped her nose, and fell on her knees before Anne.
“Girls — girls — let me come, too. Oh, I’ll be so good. If there’s no room for me I’ll sleep in the little doghouse in the orchard — I’ve seen it. Only let me come.”
“Get up, you goose.”
“I won’t stir off my marrow bones till you tell me I can live with you next winter.”
Anne and Priscilla looked at each other. Then Anne said slowly, “Phil dear, we’d love to have you. But we may as well speak plainly. I’m poor — Pris is poor — Stella Maynard is poor — our housekeeping will have to be very simple and our table plain. You’d have to live as we would. Now, you are rich and your boardinghouse fare attests the fact.”
“Oh, what do I care for that?” demanded Phil tragically. “Better a dinner of herbs where your chums are than a stalled ox in a lonely boardinghouse. Don’t think I’m ALL stomach, girls. I’ll be willing to live on bread and water — with just a LEETLE jam — if you’ll let me come.”
“And then,” continued Anne, “there will be a good deal of work to be done. Stella’s aunt can’t do it all. We all expect to have our chores to do. Now, you—”
“Toil not, neither do I spin,” finished Philippa. “But I’ll learn to do things. You’ll only have to show me once. I CAN make my own bed to begin with. And remember that, though I can’t cook, I CAN keep my temper. That’s something. And I NEVER growl about the weather. That’s more. Oh, please, please! I never wanted anything so much in my life — and this floor is awfully hard.”
“There’s just