Aunt Patty's Paying Guests by Eglanton Thorne

IN spite of the fears she had exhibited on her arrival, Paulina Dicks was apparently content with her life at "Gay Bowers. " As she appeared cheerful, and was never one to disguise her feelings, we could safely conclude that she was not dull. Of a highly nervous, energetic temperament, she was for ever planning new enterprises, and whatever she took in hand she accomplished most thoroughly.

When she wearied of cycling, she took to driving about the country roads in Aunt Patty's little old-fashioned chaise. Sometimes her father and sometimes Miss Cottrell accompanied her. Aunt was much afraid that she overdrove the fat little pony, that had grown accustomed to an easy life; but Paulina declared that he was far too fat, and she was doing him good by rousing him from the silly jog-trot which was the pace he preferred.

She played croquet occasionally, under protest, to please her father; but she was indefatigable at tennis until she heard Alan Faulkner say that the common was just the place for golf, and drew from him an admission that he was extremely fond of this game. Then nothing would do but she must learn golf. It was in vain that any one raised objections. She made light of every difficulty suggested, and would not rest till she had coaxed Mr. Faulkner into helping her to arrange a course and get the requisites for the game.

"What Pollie Dicks wants, she'll have," said her father admiringly, and he showed himself willing to meet all the expense which her scheme involved.

But his words did not prove true in this instance, for Paulina had to put up with something she did not at all desire and was far from foreseeing as she made her plans, and with a business-like air wrote a list of the things she would order when next she went to London. Not a week passed without her going to town, and sometimes she would go two or three times in the week. Her father seldom accompanied her. He found the Chelmsford shops good enough for him, and if he wanted anything special his daughter could get it. The bustle and stir of London, so dear to Paulina, no longer attracted him. He was taking kindly to a country life, and found himself the better for it.

One morning when Paulina came down prepared to start for London, as she had informed us on the previous evening was her intention, I noticed that she was pale and heavy-eyed and took little breakfast.

"You don't seem quite the thing, Paulina," I remarked in an undertone. "Have you a headache?"

She nodded.

"Then why go to town to-day? " I said. "London is hardly the place to cure a headache."

"Oh, it is nothing; I must go," she said impatiently. "I hate putting things off. I want to start the golf while this fine weather lasts."

It was a lovely June morning. When I had seen Paulina off, I went round the garden with basket and scissors, gathering fresh flowers for the vases. I came to the corner where was Miss Cottrell's tiny domain, and found her exhibiting its beauties to Alan Faulkner. She had certainly done wonders in the short time she had had it in her care. The little parterre was gay with flowers. She was especially proud of a cluster of fine carnations of the striped variety which I believe is commonly known as "strawberries and cream."

"They are splendid," said Mr. Faulkner, as he bent to inhale their perfume; "I am so fond of carnations."

"I will give you a buttonhole," said Miss Cottrell eagerly. "Your scissors, please, Miss Darracott."

In vain he protested that it would be a pity to gather them. Miss Cottrell cut two of the finest blooms and presented them to him.

"Oh, I cannot be so greedy as to take two," he said. "Miss Nan must have one. Yes, indeed, Miss Nan. " And he insisted on giving me one.

"Here is a pin," said Miss Cottrell, as I tried to fasten the carnation beneath my brooch. I adjusted it carefully, but no sooner had I done so than Mr. Faulkner declared that the other was a finer one, and asked me to change flowers with him.

"They are both fine," said Miss Cottrell. "What does it matter?"

But I had already discovered that in spite of his quiet manner Alan Faulkner had a very strong will. Even in trifles I generally found myself gently constrained to yield to him. So the flowers were exchanged, and, to make sure that he would not give it away, Miss Cottrell herself secured the Professor's at his buttonhole. Then he and I took a stroll round the garden. I asked him about an article which had recently appeared in one of the reviews. He said he had the review in question, and would lend it to me if I cared to see it. He went into the house to fetch the periodical, and while I sauntered near the door, Miss Cottrell came up.

"I am glad he gave you that carnation," she said, looking fondly at it, "but I am afraid Miss Pollie will get the other. She made him give her the rose he was wearing last night."

"Really! " I said stiffly.