“That would be lovely!” declared Patty, enthusiastically, “if I didn’t know you were planning it that way for my benefit. And I can’t—no, I cannot bring myself to accept such a sackerry-fice!”
“You can’t help yourself, you mean,” said Nan. “And, now that part of it’s settled, where shall we go?”
“I like the New Jersey shore,” said Mr. Fairfield, “because I can run up to New York so easily from there. But I was thinking of buying a house, so we could go to it each summer, and so do away with this yearly discussion of where to go. Even if we have a summer home, we can go on a trip to the mountains as well, later in the season.”
“That’s so,” agreed Nan. “No one wants to go to the mountains before August.”
“Oh, won’t it be gay!” cried Patty. “A home of our own, at the seashore! With little white curtains blowing out of its windows, and box trees at the entrance to the drive!”
“That sounds attractive,” agreed Nan. “And wide verandas all round, and the ocean dashing over them, sometimes.”
“It wouldn’t be a bad investment,” said Mr. Fairfield. “We wouldn’t build, you know, but buy a house, and then fix it up to suit ourselves. And, whenever we tired of it, we could sell it.”
“Good business, Mr. Fairfield,” said Patty, nodding her head at him approvingly. “Now, I know the spot I’d like best. And that’s at Spring Beach. It’s the prettiest part of the whole Jersey coast.”
“I think so, too,” said Nan. “It’s not a large enough place to be rackety and noisy, but it has beautiful homes and charming people. I’ve been there several times, though not to stay long.”
“Be sure to buy a house with a garage, father,” put in Patty. “For I must have a place to keep my car.”