Read Online Patricia by Grace Livingston Hill - Free Book Online
Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
Ads: Link
he must hurry to fulfill them.
By means of smiles and wiles, and finally twisting her ankle just the least little bit, Patricia contrived not to dance with Thorny again that evening and only to dance with his guest Harold once. But by so doing she only managed to make Thorny become all the more anxious to absorb her exclusively. When at last the evening was over and she could get home and think things over, she didnât know whether she was pleased or not at the way it had all turned out. For though she only had to dance with him once during the evening, still the once bitter enemy seemed to have turned into an over-eager friend and admirer. It was all a terrible bore. Patricia acknowledged to herself that Thorny was even better looking than he had been as a small boy, that his eyes were handsome and his teeth sparkled like jewels and his smile was most flattering when he had looked at her; still she liked him no better than she had when he was a small boy. He was still selfish, she could see that. She still had the feeling that, with all his admiration, he was only being nice to her now because he thought she was pretty, and Patricia was not a vain little girl. Her head was not turned by his attention. She was glad he was going back to school in a day or two. She did hope that something nice would develop during the interval that would send him off to Europe or Alaska or California for the vacation time, anywhere so that he would not have to stay around home and be flung in her face daily by conniving mothers. Patricia did not want to grow up too soon and be in training for the proper selection of a husband. And the hints about nice boys and culture and making friends in her own class and the importance of money made her dread to grow up, made her turn from her motherâs world with loathing.
Sometimes she would talk it over with her father, on the rare occasions when he was at home and her mother was away for some social or club gathering. And her father would listen and watch her and sigh and say, âOh, little Pat. Iâm with you. You have the right idea. I wish your mother didnât set her heart on things so much!â
Such cheer was enough for the time being to brighten her heart. If Daddy agreed with her, then surely when she was older they could work something out together.
So she went happily on through her school days.
Chapter 6
Patricia seldom saw John Worth anymore except afar. His last year in high school was her third year, and he was seldom in evidence. He didnât seem to be in athletics anymore. Once or twice she had lingered to watch the start of a game, and he was never there. Then one day she heard one of the girls say it was too bad John Worth couldnât play that spring, that it was likely they wouldnât win many games without him, he had been so much better than anybody else on the team. And when she asked why he didnât play, they looked at her astonished. Didnât she know that John Worth was working now? Oh yes, he had been working ever since the late fall. He worked on Millerâs farm, was a hired hand, or something like that. Even in public school it seemed that there was such a thing as caste.
Oh yes, some of the other boys worked after hours, but their work was confined mostly to delivering papers or driving the delivery truck for one of the grocery stores during Christmas holidays when the rush hours were on. But that was mere fun, of course. And that was at holidays. That did not class a high school boy as a laborer. John Worth had to milk the cows and groom the horses. He had to get up before daylight to do these things. He had to feed the chickens and clean the chicken house and the stables. He had to plow and plant. He had to weed and hoe and help harvest wheat and corn. Just a common hired man! And still in high school! The girls said it was a shame, and the boys put on superior airs, even some of the public school boys.
Yet John Worth seemed just
By means of smiles and wiles, and finally twisting her ankle just the least little bit, Patricia contrived not to dance with Thorny again that evening and only to dance with his guest Harold once. But by so doing she only managed to make Thorny become all the more anxious to absorb her exclusively. When at last the evening was over and she could get home and think things over, she didnât know whether she was pleased or not at the way it had all turned out. For though she only had to dance with him once during the evening, still the once bitter enemy seemed to have turned into an over-eager friend and admirer. It was all a terrible bore. Patricia acknowledged to herself that Thorny was even better looking than he had been as a small boy, that his eyes were handsome and his teeth sparkled like jewels and his smile was most flattering when he had looked at her; still she liked him no better than she had when he was a small boy. He was still selfish, she could see that. She still had the feeling that, with all his admiration, he was only being nice to her now because he thought she was pretty, and Patricia was not a vain little girl. Her head was not turned by his attention. She was glad he was going back to school in a day or two. She did hope that something nice would develop during the interval that would send him off to Europe or Alaska or California for the vacation time, anywhere so that he would not have to stay around home and be flung in her face daily by conniving mothers. Patricia did not want to grow up too soon and be in training for the proper selection of a husband. And the hints about nice boys and culture and making friends in her own class and the importance of money made her dread to grow up, made her turn from her motherâs world with loathing.
Sometimes she would talk it over with her father, on the rare occasions when he was at home and her mother was away for some social or club gathering. And her father would listen and watch her and sigh and say, âOh, little Pat. Iâm with you. You have the right idea. I wish your mother didnât set her heart on things so much!â
Such cheer was enough for the time being to brighten her heart. If Daddy agreed with her, then surely when she was older they could work something out together.
So she went happily on through her school days.
Chapter 6
Patricia seldom saw John Worth anymore except afar. His last year in high school was her third year, and he was seldom in evidence. He didnât seem to be in athletics anymore. Once or twice she had lingered to watch the start of a game, and he was never there. Then one day she heard one of the girls say it was too bad John Worth couldnât play that spring, that it was likely they wouldnât win many games without him, he had been so much better than anybody else on the team. And when she asked why he didnât play, they looked at her astonished. Didnât she know that John Worth was working now? Oh yes, he had been working ever since the late fall. He worked on Millerâs farm, was a hired hand, or something like that. Even in public school it seemed that there was such a thing as caste.
Oh yes, some of the other boys worked after hours, but their work was confined mostly to delivering papers or driving the delivery truck for one of the grocery stores during Christmas holidays when the rush hours were on. But that was mere fun, of course. And that was at holidays. That did not class a high school boy as a laborer. John Worth had to milk the cows and groom the horses. He had to get up before daylight to do these things. He had to feed the chickens and clean the chicken house and the stables. He had to plow and plant. He had to weed and hoe and help harvest wheat and corn. Just a common hired man! And still in high school! The girls said it was a shame, and the boys put on superior airs, even some of the public school boys.
Yet John Worth seemed just
Similar Books
