Other editions of book Patty's Motor Car

This Book is #9 of the Patty Fairfield collection, a total of 17 novels covering the life of this happy and cheerful american teenager of a century ago, as she matures and comes of age, and, in the meantime, living all kind of amazing adventures. Patty Fairfield is a pretty, well-mannered, graceful, thoughtful, smart, but not too smart 14 year old who will make us laugh and cry, and learn about life with her.

Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. Patty was curled up in her favourite big easy-chair in her own study. Though called a study, because it had been used as such during her schooldays, the pretty room was really more like a boudoir. Her desk was still there, but was now filled with programmes, friendly letters, and social correspondence instead of school themes or problems. The general colouring of the room was green, but the sash curtains of thin yellow silk, and the heap of yellow sofa cushions, did much to lighten the effect, and gave the room a sunshiny air, even on a dull day. The couch, and the two big, soft, cuddly chairs were upholstered in yellow-flowered chintz, and on the pale green walls hung Patty’s favourite pictures, and many curios or souvenirs of her year spent abroad. It was the first of March, so the room was brightened both by a big bowlful of yellow daffodils and a blazing wood fire. The two things Patty liked best in life were warmth and colour, and so to-day she was sitting near the fire, with the splendid yellow glory of the daffodils in full view. But she was not looking at them, for she was poring over a book. When Patty read she usually pored, for she was eager and enthusiastic over any story in which she was interested.

Patty was curled up in her favourite big easy-chair in her own study. Though called a study, because it had been used as such during her schooldays, the pretty room was really more like a boudoir. Her desk was still there, but was now filled with programmes, friendly letters, and social correspondence instead of school themes or problems. The general colouring of the room was green, but the sash curtains of thin yellow silk, and the heap of yellow sofa cushions, did much to lighten the effect, and gave the room a sunshiny air, even on a dull day. The couch, and the two big, soft, cuddly chairs were upholstered in yellow-flowered chintz, and on the pale green walls hung Patty's favourite pictures, and many curios or souvenirs of her year spent abroad. It was the first of March, so the room was brightened both by a big bowlful of yellow daffodils and a blazing wood fire. The two things Patty liked best in life were warmth and colour, and so to-day she was sitting near the fire, with the splendid yellow glory of the daffodils in full view.

Patty was curled up in her favourite big easy-chair in her own study.Though called a study, because it had been used as such during her schooldays, thepretty room was really more like a boudoir. Her desk was still there, but was now filledwith programmes, friendly letters, and social correspondence instead of school themes orproblems. The general colouring of the room was green, but the sash curtains of thin yellowsilk, and the heap of yellow sofa cushions, did much to lighten the effect, and gave the rooma sunshiny air, even on a dull day. The couch, and the two big, soft, cuddly chairs wereupholstered in yellow-flowered chintz, and on the pale green walls hung Patty’s favouritepictures, and many curios or souvenirs of her year spent abroad.It was the first of March, so the room was brightened both by a big bowlful of yellowdaffodils and a blazing wood fire. The two things Patty liked best in life were warmth andcolour, and so to-day she was sitting near the fire, with the splendid yellow glory of thedaffodils in full view.But she was not looking at them, for she was poring over a book. When Patty read sheusually pored, for she was eager and enthusiastic over any story in which she wasinterested.

Patty was curled up in her favourite big easy-chair in her own study. Though called a study, because it had been used as such during her schooldays, the pretty room was really more like a boudoir. Her desk was still there, but was now filled with programmes, friendly letters, and social correspondence instead of school themes or problems. The general colouring of the room was green, but the sash curtains of thin yellow silk, and the heap of yellow sofa cushions, did much to lighten the effect, and gave the room a sunshiny air, even on a dull day. The couch, and the two big, soft, cuddly chairs were upholstered in yellow-flowered chintz, and on the pale green walls hung Patty’s favourite pictures, and many curios or souvenirs of her year spent abroad. It was the first of March, so the room was brightened both by a big bowlful of yellow daffodils and a blazing wood fire. The two things Patty liked best in life were warmth and colour, and so to-day she was sitting near the fire, with the splendid yellow glory of the daffodils in full view.