Patty's Social Season. Wells Carolyn

necessary, or we’ll use our motor cars, or buy flowers, or whatever we like; but we won’t have dues and officers and things.”

      “But the shop girls are always busy; how can we take them motoring?” asked Elise.

      “That was only a suggestion,” said Mona; “it needn’t be exactly a shop girl; but anybody we know of, who would enjoy a little unexpected pleasure.”

      “The principle is exactly right,” said Clementine; “now, let’s get it down to practicability. As Mona says, we needn’t necessarily choose a shop girl,—but suppose we do, many of them are free Saturday afternoon.”

      “Only in the summer time,” objected Elise.

      “Yes, perhaps, in the big shops; but there are lots of them, in offices,—or even school teachers,—who would be free Saturday afternoons. Well, anyway, here’s what I’m thinking of, and you can all say what you think of it. Suppose we try, every week, to give a happy Saturday afternoon to somebody who wouldn’t have it otherwise.”

      “The Happy Saturday Afternoon Club!” cried Patty; “that’s a lovely name! let’s do it!”

      “But,” said Elise, “that would mean giving up our Saturday afternoons. Do we want to do that? What about matinées?”

      “I think we ought to be willing to sacrifice something,” said Patty, thoughtfully; “but I do love Saturday matinées.”

      “Oh, if there’s anything especial, we needn’t consider ourselves bound to give up the afternoon,” said Clementine. “For that matter, we could send a couple of girls for a motor ride without going ourselves.”

      “But that’s more like charity,” objected Patty: “I meant to go with them, and be real nice and pleasant with them, and make a bright spot in their lives that they would always remember.”

      “They’d always remember you, Patty, if you were the bright spot,” declared Mona, who idolised her friend. “But I must confess I do like to be definite about this thing. Now, how’s this for a plan? To-day’s Thursday. Suppose we begin on Saturday and make a start at something. Suppose we each of us pick out a girl,—or a boy, for that matter,—or a child or anybody, and think what we can do to make them happy on Saturday afternoon.”

      “Now we’re getting somewhere,” said Elise, approvingly. “I’ve picked mine already. She’s a girl who comes to our house quite often to sew for the children. She’s a sweet little thing, but she looks as if she never had a real good time in all her life. Now, can the rest of you think of anybody like that?”

      “Yes, I have one,” said Mona. “Your suggestion made me think of her. She’s my manicure girl. She comes here, and sometimes she’s so tired she’s ready to drop! She works awfully hard, and never takes a day off, because she has to support two little sisters. But I’ll make her take a holiday Saturday afternoon, somehow.”

      “There’s a girl I’d like to have,” said Clementine, thoughtfully; “she’s at the ribbon counter in Walker’s. She always waits on me there; and she has such a wistful air, I’d like to do her a kindness. I don’t suppose she could get off,—but I could go and ask the head of the department, and perhaps he’d let her.”

      “I can’t think of anybody,” said Patty, “except one person, that I would simply love to have. And that’s a very tired and cross-looking lady who gives out embroidery patterns in a dreadful place, way down town. I believe it would sweeten her up for a year to have a little spree with us.”

      “All right,” said Mona. “Now we have selected our guests, what shall we do with them? Say, a motor ride and a cup of tea afterward in some pretty tea room?”

      “I think,” said Elise, “that we’d better give them luncheon first. They can’t enjoy a motor ride if they’re hungry, and they probably will be.”

      “Luncheon where?” said Patty, looking puzzled; “at one of our houses?”

      “I could have them here, easily enough,” said Mona. “Our dining-room here, would really be better than any of the homes of you girls. Because you all have people, and I haven’t. Father would just as lieve lunch downstairs, in the main dining-room.”

      “That’s lovely of you, Mona,” said Patty. “I was going to suggest some small, quiet restaurant, but a luncheon here in your pretty dining-room would indeed be a bright spot for them to remember. But suppose they won’t come?”

      “Then we must ask someone instead,” said Clementine; “let’s promise each to bring someone with us on Saturday, and if the first one we ask declines, keep on asking till we get somebody. Of course, Mona, we’ll share the expense of the luncheon equally.”

      “Nonsense,” returned Mona; “I’ll be glad to give that.”

      “No,” said Patty, firmly; “we’ll each pay a quarter of whatever the luncheon costs. And let’s have it good and substantial, and yet have some pretty, fancy things too. For, you know, this isn’t a charity or a soup kitchen,—it’s to give those girls a bright and beautiful scene to look back on.”

      “Oh, it will be lovely!” cried Mona. “I’ll have pretty place cards, and favours, and everything.”

      “But we mustn’t overdo it,” said Clementine.

      “You know, to the unaccustomed, an elaborate table may prove embarrassing.”

      “That will be all right,” said Patty, smiling. “Mona can fix her table, and I’ll come over before the luncheon, and if she has too many or too grand flumadiddles, I’ll take some of them off. I don’t want our guests struck dumb by too much grandeur, but I do want things pretty and nice. Suppose we each bring a favor for our own guest.”

      “Something useful?” said Elise.

      “No; not a suit of flannel underwear or a pair of shoes! But a pretty necktie or handkerchief, if you like, or even a little gold pin, or a silver one.”

      “Or a picture or cast,” said Clementine.

      “Yes,” and Patty nodded approval; “but it ought to be a little thing that would look like a luncheon souvenir and not like a Christmas present. I think they ought to be all alike.”

      “So do I,” said Mona, “and I think a little pin in a jeweler’s box will be the prettiest; and then a lovely bunch of flowers at each plate, and an awfully pretty place-card.”

      “Oh, it will be beautiful!” cried Patty, jumping up and dancing about the room; “but I must flit, girls,—I have an engagement at five. Wait, what about motors? I’m sure we can use our big car.”

      “And ours,” said all the rest together.

      “Well, we’ll need two,” said Clementine, “and two of us girls and two guests can go in each. We’ll see which cars can be used most conveniently; perhaps our fathers may have something to say on that subject. But we can arrange all such things by telephone to-morrow. The main thing is to get our guests.”

      “Oh, we’ll do that,” said Patty, “if we have to go out into the highways and hedges after them.”

      CHAPTER IV

      AN INVITATION

      The next morning Patty started off in her own little electric runabout with Miller, the chauffeur.

      She let him drive, and gave the address, as she stepped in, “The Monongahela Art Embroidery Company,” adding a number in lower Broadway.

      The correct Miller could not suppress a slight smile as he said, “Where I took you once before, Miss Patty?” And Patty smiled, as she said, “Yes, Miller.”

      But it was with a different feeling that she entered the big building this time, and she went straight to department B. On her way she met the red-headed boy who had so amused her when she was there a year ago.

      He greeted her with the same lack of formality that had previously characterised him.

      “Is