it was due to the fact that she was now looked upon as a social equal and not a dependent.
“It is all so uncertain yet,” Patty went on. “I don’t know exactly how we are to persuade the girl to come North at all. She is of a proud and sensitive nature that would reject anything like charity.”
“Well, you will doubtless arrange the matter somehow, and when you do, remember that I shall be glad to help in any way I can.”
“Thank you very much,” said Patty. “It may be that you can indeed help us. And now, Mrs. Van Reypen, mayn’t I read to you, or something? You know my week isn’t up until this afternoon.”
“Not literally, perhaps; but for the few hours that are left of your stay with me I shall look upon you as a guest, not a ‘companion.’ And as I always like to entertain my guests pleasantly, I shall, if you agree, telephone for Philip to come to luncheon with us.”
The old lady’s eyes twinkled at the idea of Philip’s surprise at the changed conditions, and Patty smiled, too, as she expressed her assent.
When Philip arrived he was, of course, amazed at his aunt’s demeanour. She not only seemed to approve of Miss Fairfield, but treated her as an honoured guest and seemed more than willing that Philip should chat socially with her. Soon she explained to him the cause of her sudden change of attitude.
Philip laughed heartily. “I suspected something of the sort,” he said. “Miss Fairfield didn’t strike me as being of the ‘thankful and willin’ to please’ variety. She tried her best, but her deference was forced and her meekness assumed.”
“But she did it well,” said Mrs. Van Reypen.
“Oh, yes; very well. Still I like her better in her natural rôle of society lady.”
“Oh, not that!” protested Patty. “I’m not really a society lady. In fact, I’m not ‘out’ yet. I’m just a New York girl.”
“Were you born here?” asked Mrs. Van Reypen.
“No,” said Patty, laughing; “I was born South, and I’ve only lived North about five years. One of those I’ve spent abroad, and one or two outside of New York. So when I say I’m a New York girl I only mean that I live here now.”
“Mayn’t I come to see you?” asked Philip. “Where do you live?”
“I live on Seventy-second Street,” said Patty, “and you may come to tea some Wednesday if you like. That’s my mother’s ‘day,’ and I often receive with her.”
“I see you’re well brought up,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, nodding her head approvingly. “I’m a bit surprised though that your mother allowed you to undertake this escapade.”
“Well, you see, she’s my stepmother—she’s only six years older than I am. So she hasn’t much jurisdiction over me; and as for my father—well, really, I ran away!”
The luncheon was a merry feast, for Mrs. Van Reypen made a gala affair of it, and, though there were but the three at table, there was extra elaboration of viands and decorations.
Philip Van Reypen was in his gayest humour, and his aunt was beaming and affable.
So they were really sorry when it was time for Patty to say good-by.
At four o’clock Miller came for her, and when Patty saw the familiar motor-car her homesickness came back like a big wave, and with farewells, speedy though cordial, she gladly let Philip hand her into the limousine.
“Home, Miller!” she said, with a glad ring in her voice, and then, with a final bow and smile to the Van Reypens, she started off.
“Discharged!” she thought, smiling to herself. “Didn’t give satisfaction! Too high-falutin to be a companion! Huh, Patty Fairfield, I don’t think you’re much of a success!”
She was talking to the reflection of herself in the small mirror opposite her face, but the happy and smiling countenance she saw there didn’t tally with her remarks. “Oh, well,” she thought, “I only agreed to earn my living for a week, and I’ve done it—I’ve done it!”
She opened her purse to make sure the precious fifteen dollars was still there, and she looked at it proudly. She had more money than that in another part of her purse, but no bills could ever look so valuable as the ten and five Mrs. Van Reypen had paid her.
At last she reached home, and as she ran up the steps the door flew open, and she saw Nan and her father, with smiling faces, awaiting her.
“Oh, people!” she cried. “Oh, you dear people!”
She flung herself indiscriminately into their open arms, embracing both at once.
Then she produced her precious bills, and, waving them aloft, cried:
“I’ve succeeded! I’ve really succeeded! Behold the proofs of Patty’s success!”
“Good for you, girlie!” cried her father. “You have succeeded, indeed! But don’t you ever dare cut up such a prank again!”
“No, don’t!” implored Nan. “I’ve had the most awful time the whole week! Every night Fred vowed he was going to bring you home, and I had to beg him not to. I wanted you to win,—and I felt sure you would this time,—but you owe it to me. For if I hadn’t worked so hard to prevent it your father would have gone after you long ago——”
“Good for you, Nan!” cried Patty. “You’ve been a trump! You’ve helped me through every time, in all my failures and in my one success. Oh, I’ve so much to tell you of my experiences! They were awfully funny.”
“They’ll keep till later,” said Nan. “You must run and dress now; Ken and the Farringtons are coming to dinner to help us celebrate your success.”
So Patty went dancing away to her own room, singing gaily in her delight at being once more at home.
“Oh, you booful room!” she cried, aloud, as she reached her own door. “All full of pretty homey things, and fresh flowers, and my own dear books and pictures, and—and everything!”
She threw herself on the couch and kissed the very sofa cushions in her joy at seeing them again.
Then she made her toilette, and put on one of her prettiest and most becoming frocks.
“Oh, daddy, dear,” she cried, meeting him in the hall on her way down, “it has done me lots of good to be homeless for a week! I appreciate my own dear home so much more.”
“But you were away from it for a year.”
“Oh, that’s different! Travelling or visiting is one thing, but working for your living is quite another! Oh, don’t lose all your fortune, will you, father? I don’t want to have to go out into the cold world and earn my own support.”
“Then it isn’t as easy as you thought it was?”
“Oh, dear no! It isn’t easy at all! It’s dreadful! Every way I tried was worse than every other. But I succeeded, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did. You fulfilled your part of the contract, and when the time comes I’m ready to fulfil mine.”
“We’ll have to see Mr. Hepworth about that,” replied Patty.
Then Kenneth and the two Farringtons came, and the wonderful fifteen dollars had to be shown to them, and they had to be told all about Patty’s harrowing experiences.
“I’ll never again express an opinion on matters I don’t know anything about,” declared Patty. “Just think! I only said I thought it would be easy to earn fifteen dollars a week, and look what I’ve been through in consequence! But I’ve won at last!”
“Plucky Patty!” said Kenneth, appreciatively. “I knew you’d