Patty well remembered her visit at their summer home which they called the Hurly-Burly, and she could not see that their city residence was any less deserving of the name. Her Aunt Grace and Uncle Ted were jolly, good-natured people, who cared little about system or method in their home. The result was that things often went wrong, but nobody cared especially if they did.
“I meant to have a nicer luncheon for you, Patty,” said her aunt, as they sat down at the table, “but the cook forgot to order lobsters, and when I telephoned for fresh peas the grocer said I was too late, for they were all sold. I’m so sorry, for I do love hothouse peas, don’t you?”
“I don’t care what I have to eat, Aunt Grace. I just came to visit you people, you know, and the luncheon doesn’t matter a bit.”
“That’s nice of you to say so, child. I remember what an adaptable little thing you were when you were with us down in the country, and really, you did us quite a lot of good that summer. You taught Bumble how to keep her bureau drawers in order. She’s forgotten it now, but it was nice while it lasted.”
“Helen, Mother, I do wish you would call me Helen. Bumble is such a silly name.”
“I know it, my dear,” said Mrs. Barlow, placidly, “and I do mean to, but you see I forget.”
“I forget it, too,” said Patty. “But I’ll try to call you Helen if you want me to. What time does Uncle Ted come home, Aunt Grace?”
“Oh, about five o’clock, or perhaps six; and sometimes he gets here at four. I never know what time he’s coming home.”
“It isn’t only that,” said Bob; “in fact, father usually comes home about the same time. But our clocks are all so different that it depends on which room mother is in, as to what time she thinks it is.”
“That’s so,” said Helen. “We have eleven clocks in this house, Patty, and every one of them is always wrong. Still, it’s convenient in a way; if you want to go anywhere at a certain time, no matter what time you start, you can always find at least one clock that’s about where you want it to be.”