"She is," returned Miss Dorothy. "She has never had a chance to be spoiled."
Bedtime came all too soon, and the books were reluctantly put back on their shelves, the dolls safely stowed away in a large envelope, and Miss Dorothy piloted the way to Patty"s pretty little room which she was to share with Marian.
As Miss Dorothy stooped to give the two a good-night kiss, Marian whispered: "I"ve had such a lovely time. I"d like to live here always. I hope my whooping-cough won"t get well for a long time."
_CHAPTER X_
_Running Away_
The days for the most part went happily for the two little girls.
They spent much time out-of-doors, lessons taking up only two hours a day. Beside the many outdoor plays which all children love there were others which Patty invented, and these Marian liked best. The two had some disagreements and a few quarrels, for Patty, being the youngest child in her family, was a little spoiled, and liked her own way. She was an independent, venturesome little body, and led Marian into ways she had never tried before. She loved excitement and was always planning something new and unusual.
One morning after the two had raced around the lawn till they were tired, had climbed trees, jumped from the top step many times, gathered chestnuts from the burrs newly opened by the frost, Patty was at her wits" end to know what to do next. "Let"s run away," she said suddenly.
"Oh, what for?" said Marian to whom such adventures never suggested themselves.
"Oh, just because; just to do something we haven"t done," was the reply.
"But where shall we run?"
"Oh, anywhere. Down there." Patty nodded toward the road which led from the college grounds.
Marian looked dubious. "But where would we stay at night, and where would we get anything to eat?"
"Oh, along the way somewhere."
"We haven"t any money to buy food."
"No, but some one would give it to us if we asked."
"Why, then we would be beggars."
Patty nodded. "I"ve always thought I would like to try what it would be like not to mind your clothes, nor your face and hands. It would be rather fine, don"t you think, not to have grown-ups say to you: Be careful of your frock. Don"t get your shoes wet. No lady ever has such a face and hands."
"Ye-es," doubtfully from Marian. "Suppose we should get lost and never find our way back."
"We couldn"t if we kept a straight road. We might meet a princess in disguise, riding in her carriage and she might take us in with her.
I should like to see a real princess."
"My father has seen one."
"I don"t believe it."
"He has. Cross my heart. He wrote to grandma about her and said she looked like any one else."
"Then she couldn"t have been a real princess," said Patty triumphantly.
"My father doesn"t tell stories, I thank you," said Marian indignantly.
"You don"t know whether he does or not; you don"t know him,"
retorted Patty.
Marian gave her one look, arose from where she was sitting, and stalked into the house. Patty was at her heels in a moment. "Oh, please don"t get mad," she begged.
Marian made no reply for a moment, then she said in a low voice, "I"m not exactly mad, but my feelings hurt me."
Patty was too warm-hearted to let this pa.s.s. She flung her arms around her friend"s neck. "I was horrid to say that," she said, "when I have a father close by and you haven"t any mother."
"Neither have you," returned Marian mollified.
"I know, but I have brothers and sisters, and live with my father. I think, after all, Marian, we won"t run away, but we might go down that road a little way and see what it looks like."
"Haven"t you ever been there?"
"No, we always go in the other direction." She did not say why, nor did she tell Marian that she had been warned of a rowdy neighborhood in the vicinity of some factories further on. "You see," she continued, "it would be fun to pretend we were running away. We could stay till it gets dark and we began to be afraid."
"Not till it is really dark," Marian improved on the suggestion, "but just till it begins to be."
"Well, yes, that would do. Come on, let us start."
"Don"t you think we ought to take some lunch?"
"Well, maybe, though I would rather trust to luck; it would be much more exciting. I think I will take five cents that I have, and then if we don"t see any chance of getting something to eat we can buy enough to keep us from getting very, very hungry." So saying, she ran toward the house.
"Bring Patty Wee," called Marian after her.
"All right," answered Patty the Big from the door-step. She came out again directly with the money clasped in her hand, and bearing Patty Wee.
"I suppose we mustn"t go near any children," said Marian as they started off, "for we might give them the whooping-cough."
"I"m sure I don"t want to go near any," replied Patty independently.
"See, the road we are going to take leads right past the chapel and down that hill."
"What are those chimneys sticking up there at the foot of the hill, where all that smoke is coming out?"
"They are the chimneys of the factories."
"What kind of factories?"
"Oh, some kind. I don"t know. We can ask when we get home if you would like to know." She hurried Marian past the big factory buildings from which issued the clattering noise of machinery, and from whose chimneys black smoke was pouring. At the foot of the hill there was a little bridge spanning a rapid stream. Further up, the stream was bordered by willows, and a meadow beyond seemed an inviting playground. "Let"s go up there," said Marian; "it looks so pleasant."
"We might fish if we had a hook and line," said Patty, bent on some new diversion.
"Oh, do you suppose there are any fish so near the factory?"