Carolyn Wells

Patty Fairfield Carolyn Wells

"How old are you, Patty?" asked her father, abruptly."Fourteen, papa, -why?""My conscience! what a great girl you're getting to be. Stand up and let me look at you."Patty Fairfield, with two twists and a spring, brought herself to her feet, and stood awaitingher father's inspection. He saw a slender, graceful girl, a Southern blonde of the purest type. Her pretty golden hairwould gladly have hung in curly masses, but it was only allowed to have its own sweet willaround her temples and at the end of a long thick braid. Her eyes were blue, deep andtwinkly, and the rest of her face was as pretty and sweet as soft girlish contours and aperfect complexion could make it. But best of all was the gentle expression and frank, good-natured smile which so oftenbroke into mischievous dimples. It did on this occasion, and Patty laughed merrily at her father's grave consideration of her."What is it, papa?" she asked. "Did you think I was still an infant, and were you going to buyme a new dolls' house? Or were you going to take me to the circus? I'm not a bit too old forthe circus.