“Just what I want!” cried Patty. “Now I can go out for a whole-day picnic. And it’s such a lovely picnic basket! Mr. Hepworth, you do think of the loveliest things!”
The grateful glance that Patty gave him was met by one equally friendly, and, in order to escape drawing further attention to himself, Mr. Hepworth quickly opened the next parcel.
This proved to be Philip Van Reypen’s gift, and, as it was being opened, he said: “I, too, should have liked to bring you a really worthwhile gift; but I felt, Miss Fairfield, that I’m too much of a stranger to indulge in anything but the conventional ‘books, candy, or flowers.’ So I have brought you only a box of candy, but I hope you will have many happy returns of to-day, when I shall be an old friend, and can give you anything I choose.”
He looked enviously at the other men present, who had known Patty so much longer than he had; but, when his box of candy was finally released from its wrappings, everybody exclaimed in admiration. For it was by no means a simple box, but was really a French jewel case, whose various compartments were lined with tufted blue satin, and, though now filled with bonbons, were intended to hold trinkets. The outside was of French brocade, decorated with gold filigree and tiny French flowers. Altogether it was an exquisite piece of handicraft, and yet Mr. Van Reypen had, after all, only presented the conventional “box of candy.”
Nan was greatly pleased at his cleverness. She had liked Philip Van Reypen from the first, and he had proved himself a cultured and intelligent gentleman in every respect.
Kenneth’s gift was a fan; a point-lace mount, with pearl sticks. He had showed taste in the selection, and Patty was greatly pleased with it. Indeed, she was enraptured with all her lovely gifts, and fairly bubbled over with enthusiastic thanks.
“This is my present, Patty,” said Nan, producing a very long box. “It was too big to put on the table with the others, so please accept it, with the wish that it may prove useful some day.”
The long box contained a white-lace parasol, which was just the thing to be carried with Patty’s pretty summer costumes.
“Oh, Nan, what a duck you are!” she cried. “I suppose this is from you and father both, as I don’t see anything else from him.”
“Not so, not so, my child,” said Mr. Fairfield, taking a small box from his pocket. “On your nineteenth birthday I want to give you a gift all by myself.”