This was too much for Patty. Her nerves were strained almost to the breaking point, and when Sir Otho spoke so repellently, she realised how foolish her little plan had been, and how hopeless was her dream of reconciling this dreadful old man and his daughter. Partly, then, because of her overwrought nerves, and partly because of the downfall of her cherished hopes, Patty burst into tears.
She rarely cried, almost never, unless at some injustice or undeserved unkindness. But when she did cry, it was done as she did everything else, with a whole-souled enthusiasm.
Utterly unable to control herself, for a few moments she sobbed, and shook in paroxysms of emotion.
The old gentleman fairly danced around.
“Bless my soul!” he exclaimed; “what is the matter? What does this mean? Did you come into my house for the purpose of having a fit of hysterics?”
Now Patty wasn’t a bit hysterical; it was merely a sudden blow of disappointment, and she would have been over it in a moment, but that Sir Otho made matters worse by storming at her.
“Stop it, do you hear? I won’t have such goings on in my house! You are a madwoman!”
As Patty’s sobs grew quieter, and she sat softly weeping into an already soaked handkerchief, her host’s mood seemed to change also.
“When I consented to see Miss Patricia Fairfield,” he said, quoting her name as it appeared on the card she had sent in, “I didn’t know I was to be subjected to this extraordinary treatment.”
“I d-didn’t know it e-either,” said Patty, wiping her eyes, and trying to smile. Then, as she saw Sir Otho’s hard old face beginning to soften a little, she smiled at him through her tears.
“There, there, my dear, don’t cry,” he said, with a clumsy imitation of gentleness. “Shall I ring for a maid? Will you have some sal volatile?”
“No,” said Patty, trying hard to check her sobs; “no, I will go away.”
“But what’s it all about?” said the bewildered old man. “What made you cry?”
“You did,” said Patty, with such suddenness that he nearly fell over.
“I? Bless my soul! What did I do?”
“You were so c-cross,” said Patty, weeping afresh at the remembrance of his cold looks.
“Well, never mind, child, I won’t be cross again. Tell me all about it.”
Surely Sir Otho was melting! Patty sagaciously believed he was touched by her tears, so made no desperate effort to stop them.
“I c-can’t tell you now. You’re not in a k-kind m-mood.”
“Yes, I am; try to tell me, my dear child.”
Patty thought she had never known any one who could turn from anger to kindness so suddenly, but she resolved to strike while the iron was hot.
“It’s about K-Kitty,” she said, still sobbing, but peeping out from behind her handkerchief to see how he took this broadside.
“I supposed so,” he said, with a sigh. “Well, what about her?”
“She’s your daughter, you know,” went on Patty, growing more daring, as she slyly watched the old gentleman’s expression.
“Is she, indeed? I’d forgotten the fact.”
This, though in a sarcastic tone, was better than his usual disavowal of the relationship.
“And did you stop in here, and treat me to this absurd scene, just to inform me concerning my family tree?”
“N-no,” said Patty, resorting to tears again. “I stopped in, to—to ask you s-something.”
“Well, out with it! Are you afraid of me?”
This nettled Patty.
“No,” she said, starting to her feet. Her tears had stopped now, and her eyes were blazing. “No! I am not afraid of you! I’m sorry I broke down. I was foolishly nervous. But I’m over it now. I came in here, Sir Otho Markleham, to ask you to make peace with your daughter, and to propose to you a pleasant way to do so. But you have been so cross and ugly, so sarcastic and cruel, that I see the utter hopelessness of trying to reconcile you two. I was foolish even to think of it! Lady Kitty is gentle and sweet in many ways, but she has inherited your obstinate, stubborn——”
“Pigheaded,” suggested Sir Otho, politely.
“Yes! Pigheaded disposition, and though, as the older, you ought to make the advance, you’ll never do it—and she never will—and—so——”
Patty broke down again, this time from sheer sadness of heart at the irrevocable state of things.
Her face buried in her handkerchief, to her great surprise she felt a kindly touch on her shoulder.
“Don’t condemn me too soon, little one; and don’t condemn me unheard. Suppose I tell you that some of my ideas have undergone a change since Miss Yankee Doodle has taken it upon herself to scold me.”
“Oh!” said Patty, rendered almost breathless with amazement at the kind tone and the gentle touch.
“But suppose it’s very hard for an old man like me to uproot some feelings that have grown and strengthened with the passing years.”
“But if they’re bad and unworthy feelings, you want to uproot them!” cried Patty.
“Yes,” said Sir Otho, “I do. And though my irascible and taciturn nature won’t let me admit this to any one else, I’ll confess to you, Miss Yankee Doodle, I do want to pull them up, root and branch.”
Sir Otho looked so brave and manly as he made this confession, which was truly difficult for him, that Patty grasped his hand in both hers, and cried: “Oh, what a splendid man you are! I’ll never be afraid of you again!”
“You weren’t afraid of me, child. That’s why your words had weight with me. You fearlessly told me just what I was, and I had the grace to be ashamed of myself.”
“Never mind that now,” said Patty, eagerly. “Do you want to be friends again with Kitty?”
“More than anything on earth.”
“Well, then, let me manage it; and do it the way I want you to, will you?”
Patty’s voice and smile were very wheedlesome, and Sir Otho smiled in response, as he said:
“You’ve surely earned the right to manage it. How shall it be done? Will Kitty meet me halfway?”
“I think she will,” said Patty, slowly. “But she’s not very tractable, you know. Indeed, Sir Otho, she’s such a contrary-minded person, that if she knew you wanted to be kind to her, she’d likely run away.”
“Miss Patricia,” said Sir Otho, gravely, “you can’t tell me anything about my daughter Catharine that I don’t already know. And she is, indeed, contrary-minded, on occasion. As you so justly observed, she inherits my obstinate and cross-grained disposition.”
“And yet she’s so lovely to look at,” sighed Patty.
“Ah, well, she didn’t get her good looks from me, I’ll admit.”
“I think she did,” said Patty, looking critically at the fine old face, with a thoughtful gaze that was very amusing.
“Well, are you going to detail to me the plan of this rather difficult campaign?”
“Yes, I am. And I hope you’ll see it as I do.”
“If I don’t, I have little doubt but you can change my views. Will you have time to drink a cup of tea