“Oh, how nice!” cried Patty, clapping her hands; “I just wanted something to take care of. You see I can’t have a dog or a cat or any kind of an animal here, but I can have plants. One of the girls gave me a little fern, but I think it is going to die. It’s drooping like a weeping-willow now.”
“I rather think these will die soon,” said Kenneth, cheerfully, “but it doesn’t matter; when they do, you can get some more to put in—of a different kind. It’s nice to have a variety.”
“I think they look very thrifty,” said Grandma, “and I’m sure with good care they’ll do nicely.”
“Perhaps they will, ma’am; that one in the end is an orange tree. It may have oranges on by Christmas.”
“Yes, if anybody ties them on,” said Patty, laughing.
With Kenneth’s help they arranged the box in the bay-window, and Patty named it “Ten-Acre Farm.” “For,” she said, “although it doesn’t really measure quite ten acres, I like a large-sounding name; it gives you such a feeling of roominess.”
“And that’s a great thing in New York,” said Kenneth; “somehow I always feel cramped. My room is too small, there’s never any room in the street cars, and even the sidewalks are crowded.”
“Well, you may come down and roam around my farm whenever you like,” said Patty; “and now, don’t you think it would be nice, Grandma, if we made a cup of tea? Just to see how the tea-things work, you know.”
Grandma thought it would be a very nice plan, and she rang for hot water, while Patty hunted up the tea-caddy, and Kenneth filled the alcohol lamp.
And so, when Mr. Fairfield returned with the promised box of candy, he found a merry tea-party of three awaiting him.