“Who’s your friend, Patty?” asked Mabel. “Do you know him?”
“Yes,” said Patty, slowly. “He’s Sir Otho Markleham.”
“So he is,” said Bob. “I’ve seen him often, but I don’t know him personally.”
Sir Otho, still looking at Patty, took a few steps toward her, and then paused irresolutely.
“Please excuse me,” said Patty to the others, “I think I’ll go speak to him for a minute.”
“Do,” said Mr. Lawton; “we’ll wait for you right here.”
Following an impulse, Patty walked directly toward Sir Otho, who looked as if he would like to run away.
“How do you do?” she said, pleasantly, as they met.
“Quite well,” he said, but there was no responsiveness in his manner. “Do you wish to speak to me?”
Now after he had first advanced toward Patty, this was a strange question, but she bravely took up the burden of conversation.
“Well, yes,” she said, smiling at him prettily; “I want to ask you how you are enjoying the Garden Party.”
“I never enjoy anything,” he returned, but his face was sad now, rather than angry.
“Oh, what a pity!” said Patty, involuntarily, “and you have such powers of enjoyment, too.”
“How do you know that, Miss Yankee Doodle?”
Patty didn’t altogether like the name, or rather the tone in which it was said, but she was determined not to get piqued. So she said:
“Oh, because you’re such a big, healthy, hearty-looking man; you ought to laugh most of the time.”
“Ought I, indeed? But you see I never have anything to laugh at.”
At this Patty laughed outright.
“Why, the world is full of things to laugh at,—and you’re not blind.”
“No, but I don’t feel like laughing.”
“Don’t you ever even feel like smiling?”
“Not often.”
“Didn’t you feel like smiling just a little bit of a happy smile, when I gave you those flowers the other day? Those flowers—from Kitty.”
Sir Otho’s face grew dark.
“How dare you mention her name to me?” he cried. “You are a saucy minx! Go away!”
“I won’t be sent away like that,” declared Patty, looking haughty now. “I’m no child to be scolded for nothing. How dare you speak to me like that? What do you think I am?”
Sir Otho turned red with rage. He choked and stammered and looked like a choleric old gentleman, as indeed he was.
“I think you’re an impertinent Yankee. What do you think I am?”
Patty looked him squarely in the eye. Her chance had come, and she did not flinch.
“I think,” she said, looking steadfastly at him, “I think you’re an obstinate, stubborn, selfish, cruel old—Pighead!”
She confessed, afterward, that at that moment she fully expected the irate old man to strike her. But he did not. Instead, he looked at her just a moment in amazement, and then burst into peals of laughter.
Surprised beyond measure, but unable to resist the infectious merriment, Patty laughed too.
“Oh, Miss Yankee Doodle,” said Sir Otho, wiping his eyes, “you are most astonishing. The strange part is, you are quite right. I am a stubborn old Pighead, but how did you know it? Do I wear my heart on my sleeve to that extent?”
“Have you a heart?” asked Patty, so gravely that Sir Otho again roared with laughter.
“And yet,” said Patty, thoughtfully, seeing that frankness pleased the old man, “and yet, no one with such a sense of humour as you seem to have can be wholly bad.”
“Oh, thank you! So I’m not wholly bad? Well, that’s a comfort; I always thought I was. But your friends are looking this way. I think they want you to rejoin them.”
“In a moment,” said Patty. “Sir Otho,—won’t you—please—send a flower back to my friend, Lady Hamilton?”
“I would do much for any friend of yours,” said the strange old man, very gravely, and taking a few steps to a nearby flower stand, he bought a bunch of sweet peas, and said, carelessly, “Give her those, if you like.”
Then formally escorting Patty back to her friends, he raised his hat, and walked quickly away.
Chapter VI.
Herenden Hall
“There, Kitty lady,” said Patty, as she reached the Savoy on her return from the Garden Party, “there’s a nosegay from your affectionate father.”
Lady Hamilton stared at the bunch of sweet peas that Patty held out to her.
“My word!” she exclaimed, “you are the most amazing child! I suppose he sent them to me just about as much as I sent him those valley lilies you took to him the other day.”
Lady Kitty guessed so near the truth that Patty felt a little crestfallen.
“It was more than that,” she said. “I asked him to send some flowers to you, and he bought these purposely.”
“Did he select sweet peas, himself?”
“Yes.”
“That means something, then, Patty dear; for father well knows my fondness for these flowers. Well, you’re a dear, good little girl to try to heal the breach, but I can’t feel much encouragement. Father is too old and too obstinate ever to forgive me.”
“And you’re too young and too obstinate to go and beg his forgiveness!”
“Indeed I am! Fancy my meekly returning, like a prodigal daughter, when I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“You don’t deserve a reconciliation,” cried Patty; “you’re a hard-hearted little thing,—for all you look so soft and amiable.”
“Yes,” said Lady Kitty, demurely; “I inherited my father’s disposition.”
“Indeed, you did; and you’ll grow more like him every day you live, if you don’t try to be more forgiving.”
“I believe you’re right, Patty; and perhaps some day I will try. But now let me tell you what’s been happening. While you were away, I had a call from that very charming stepmother of yours. And this was the burden of her visit. It seems that she and your father are invited to spend the week-end at a country house, and the question was, where to pack you away for safe-keeping while they’re gone.”
“And they’re going to let me stay with you!” exclaimed Patty, clasping her hands and assuming an ecstatically happy expression.
“Well, Mrs. Nan seemed to think that I could keep you in order, though I’m not so sure of it myself. But the strange part is, I also am invited for this same week-end to a most delightful country house, and I have already accepted.”
Patty’s face fell.
“What is to become of poor little me?” she said. “I don’t want to stay with Mrs. Betham.”
“No; I’ve a plan for you.