he says he loves me and begs me to call him by his first name. And I did—twice.”
Patty went off in shrieks of laughter at the remembrance of it, and she rocked back and forth on her cushion in paroxysms of mirth.
“Patty, behave yourself, and tell me the truth. I’ve a mind to shake you!”
“I am shaking,” said Patty, trying to control her voice. “And I am telling you the truth. His first name is Sylvester. Lovely name!”
“Where did this occur?”
“In the rose garden. Oh, right near the terrace. Not a dozen yards away from you all. I’m sure if you’d been listening, you could have heard me say, ‘Sylvester—Sylvester!’”
Again Patty went off in uncontrollable merriment at this recollection, and Lady Kitty had to laugh too.
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him to wait till to-morrow, and he’d probably change his mind. And I see my trunks have come, so he surely will. You see he proposed to that long-tailed gown and jewelled tiara I had on——”
“It wasn’t a tiara.”
“Well, it looked something like one. I’m sure he thought it was. He doubtless wants a dignified, stately Lady Ruthven, and he thought I was it. Oh, Kitty! if you could have heard him.”
“I don’t think it’s nice of you, to take him that way.”
“All right, I won’t. But I’m not going to take him at all. Why, Kitty, when he sees me to-morrow in my own little pink muslin, he won’t know me, let alone remembering what he said to me.”
“Patty, you’re incorrigible. I don’t know what to say to you. But I hope your parents won’t blame me for this.”
“Of course they won’t, Kitsie. You see it was an accident. A sort of case of mistaken identity. I don’t mind it so much now that it’s over, but I was scared stiff at the time. Only it was all so funny that it swallowed up my scare. Now I’ll tell you the whole story.”
So Patty told every word that the Earl had said to her during the evening, in the ballroom and on the terrace. And Lady Hamilton listened attentively.
“You were not a bit to blame, dear,” she said, kindly, when the tale was finished. “I don’t think you even flirted with him. But it’s truly extraordinary that he should speak so soon.”
“It was on the spur of the moment,” declared Patty, with conviction. “You know, moonlight and roses and a summer evening have a romantic influence on some natures.”
“What do you know of a romantic influence, you baby. Hop along to bed, now, and get up in the morning your own sweet, natural self—without a thought of Earls or moonlight.”
“I will so,” said Patty; “I didn’t like it a bit, except that it was all so funny. Won’t Nan howl?”
“She may, but I’m afraid your father will be annoyed. You know you’re in my care, Patty.”
“Don’t you worry. I’ll tell Daddy all about it. And I rather guess it will make him laugh.”
Chapter IX.
An Important Document
It was the custom at Herenden Hall to serve morning tea to the guests in their rooms.
When Patty’s tray was brought, she asked to have it taken into Lady Hamilton’s room, and the two friends chatted cosily over their toast and teacups.
Lady Kitty, with a dainty dressing-jacket round her shoulders, was still nestled among her pillows, while Patty, in a blue kimono, curled up, Turk-fashion on the foot of the bed.
“It’s a gorgeous day,” observed Patty, stirring her tea, which she was trying to sip, though she hated it. “I’ll be glad to explore that lovely rose garden without horrid old moonlit Earls.”
“It’s a wonderfully fine place, Patty; you really must go over the estate. I’ll show you round myself.”
“Thank you,” said Patty, airily, “but I believe I have an engagement. Mr. Snowden, or Snowed on, or Snowed under, or whatever his name is, kindly offered to do that same.”
“Yes, and he’ll kindly withdraw his offer when he sees you in your own rightful raiment. I’ve a notion to put you in a pinafore, and give you a Teddy Bear to carry. There’s no keeping you down any other way.”
“Oh, don’t be alarmed. I’ve no designs on the young men. I like the boys better, anyhow. That Jack Merivale is a chummy kind of a youth. That’s the sort I like. Rest assured I won’t trouble that wretched Earl. I won’t even speak to him, and I’ll make over to you whatever interest he may deign to show in me.”
“As one Humpty Dumpty said, ‘I’d rather see that on paper.’”
“So you shall,” said Patty, and setting down her unfinished tea, she flew to the writing table.
Perching herself on the corner of the desk chair, she laid out a sheet of Lady Herenden’s crested note paper, and took up a pen. “Shall I write the agreement as I please?” she said, “or will you dictate it?”
“I’ll dictate,” said Lady Kitty, smiling lazily at the foolery. But as she paused between sentences, Patty put in parentheses of her own, and when finished the remarkable document read thus:
“I, the undersigned, being of (fairly) sound mind, do hereby of my own free will (coerced by one Lady Hamilton) relinquish all interest or concern in the (illustrious) personage known as Sylvester, Earl of Ruthven (but I do think he has a lovely name), and should he show any interest in me, personally, I promise (gladly) to refer him to (the aforesaid) Lady Hamilton (though what she wants of him, I don’t know!), and I hereby solemnly promise and agree, not to seek or accept any further acquaintance or friendship with the (Belted) gentleman above referred to.
“Furthermore, I (being still of sound mind, but it’s tottering) promise not to talk or converse with the (Sylvester! Sylvester!) Earl of Ruthven, beyond the ordinary civilities of the day (whatever that may mean!), never to smile at him voluntarily (I can’t help laughing at him), and never to wave my eyelashes at him across the table. (Why does she think I’d do that?)
“Witness my hand and seal,
“PATRICIA FAIRFIELD.”
(“Lady Patricia would sound great! Wouldn’t it?”)
“There, Kitty Cat,” said Patty, tossing the paper to Lady Hamilton, “there’s your agreement, and now, my dreams of glory over, I’ll go and ‘bind my hair and lace my bodice blue.’ I always wondered how people bind their hair. Do you suppose they use skirt braid?”
But Lady Kitty was shaking with laughter over Patty’s foolish “document” and offered no reply.
An hour or so later, Patty presented herself for inspection.
She wore a pale blue dimity, whose round, full blouse was belted with a soft ribbon. The skirt, with its three frills edged with tiny lace, came just to her instep, and disclosed dainty, patent-leather oxfords.
Her golden braids, crossed and recrossed low at the back of her head, were almost covered by a big butterfly bow of wide white ribbon. In fact, she was perfectly garbed for an American girl of eighteen, and the costume was more becoming to her pretty, young face than the trained gown of the night before.
Lady Hamilton was still at her dressing table.
“I feel quite at ease about you now,”