“How long can you wait?”
“Why, the only stipulation is that the list of answers shall be postmarked not later than April first; but I hate to wait till the last mail.”
“So should I; do telephone, Patty.”
“No, not yet. He’ll send it.”
The afternoon dragged by, with no word from Mr. Hepworth. At four o’clock, Nan went to Patty’s room.
“Dearie,” she said, “don’t lose your whole effort by a bit of stubbornness. Mr. Hepworth must have forgotten to send his answer—or, perhaps, he sent it by a messenger, and it went to the wrong place.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” said Patty, shaking her head. “He’ll guess it, and, as soon as he does, he’ll telephone me. I know him.”
“I know him, too, and I know his faithfulness. But mistakes do happen sometimes. If you’d only telephone,—or let me.”
“No, Nannie,” said Patty, gently. “This is my picnic, and I shall conduct it in my own way. And I won’t telephone Mr. Hepworth, if I have to send the answers with one missing.”
And then the telephone bell rang!
And it was Mr. Hepworth calling.
“I’ve guessed it!” he said, breathlessly, but triumphant. “But it’s rather complicated, and I can’t explain it very well over the telephone. I’ll come right over. Is there time?”
“Yes,” returned Patty; “come on. Good-bye.”
She hung up the receiver, and turned to Nan with an “I told you so” expression on her face.
“But it was a narrow escape,” said Nan.
“Not at all,” said Patty.
Then Mr. Hepworth came.
He looked calm and smiling as ever, and showed no trace of his sleepless night and anxious hard-working day.
“It’s ‘Forceps,’” he said, as soon as he had greeted them; “but it isn’t a fair charade at all. A charade should be divided into its two or more legitimate syllables. But this one is divided ‘Force’ and ‘P.S.’ You see, the P.S. is referred to as the principal part of a lady’s letter.”
“Oh, that old joke!” cried Nan.
“Yes. But, if it hadn’t been for that old joke, I never could have guessed it. For that was what put me on the right track. But the whole charade is distinctly unfair in its construction.”
“I think so, too,” said Patty, who had been looking it over. “Oh! Mr. Hepworth, how did you ever guess it?”
“I told you I would,” he answered, simply.
“Yes; and so I knew you would,” she returned, with a glance as straightforward as his own.
“Now, I’ll add it to my list,” she went on, “and then we’ll go out to the box together, to mail it.”
In a moment, Patty was ready, with the big, fat envelope, clearly addressed and much bestamped.
Throwing a light wrap round her, she went with Mr. Hepworth the half-block to the lamp-post letter-box. But the large envelope would not go in the box.
“Never mind, Patty,” he said; “I’ll take it to the post-office for you. That will be better, anyway, as it may be postmarked a little sooner. And it’s my fault that it’s delayed so late, anyway.”
“It is not!” exclaimed Patty. “If it hadn’t been for you, I couldn’t have sent the list at all! I mean, not a complete list.”
“Van Reypen helped you far more than I did,” said Mr. Hepworth, a little bitterly.
Patty noticed his tone, and, with her ready tact, she ignored it.
“Mr. Van Reypen did help me,” she said; “but, with all his help, the list would not have been perfect but for you. I thank you, very much.”
Patty held out her hand, and Hepworth took it slowly, almost reverently.
“Patty,” he said, “I wonder if you know how much I would do for you?”
“How much?” said Patty, not really thinking of what she was saying, for her mind was still on her puzzles.
“Shall I tell you?” and the intense note in his voice brought her back to a realising sense of the situation.
“Not now,” she cried, gaily; “you promised to get those answers to the post-office in double-quick time. That would be the nicest thing you could do for me.”
“Then I’ll do it, you little witch;” and, with a quick bow, Hepworth turned and strode down the street.
Chapter V.
A Summer Home
“If I were sure Patty would get her motor car,” said Nan, “I’d vote for the seashore. But, if she doesn’t, I’d rather go to the mountains.”
“’Course I’ll get it,” declared Patty. “I’m sure, certain, positive, convinced, satisfied beyond all shadow of doubt that I’ve cinched that car! It only remains to get the formal notice.”
“And to get the car,” added her father.
They were discussing, in family conclave, their plans for the coming summer.
Patty liked the seashore, and Nan, the mountains, but each wanted the other to be pleased, so there was a generous rivalry going on.
“But I can use it in the mountains,” went on Patty; “mountain roads are pretty much civilised nowadays. And, anyway, it’s sure to be a perfect hill-climber.”
“Oh, sure to be!” said Mr. Fairfield, who never could bring himself to believe seriously that Patty would get the car.
“Well, let’s divide the time,” suggested Nan. “Let’s go to the seashore first, and spend, say, May, June, and July. Then go to the mountains for August and September.”
“That would be lovely!” declared Patty, enthusiastically, “if I didn’t know you were planning it that way for my benefit. And I can’t—no, I cannot bring myself to accept such a sackerry-fice!”
“You can’t help yourself, you mean,” said Nan. “And, now that part of it’s settled, where shall we go?”
“I like the New Jersey shore,” said Mr. Fairfield, “because I can run up to New York so easily from there. But I was thinking of buying a house, so we could go to it each summer, and so do away with this yearly discussion of where to go. Even if we have a summer home, we can go on a trip to the mountains as well, later in the season.”
“That’s so,” agreed Nan. “No one wants to go to the mountains before August.”
“Oh, won’t it be gay!” cried Patty. “A home of our own, at the seashore! With little white curtains blowing out of its windows, and box trees at the entrance to the drive!”
“That sounds attractive,” agreed Nan. “And wide verandas all round, and the ocean dashing over them, sometimes.”
“It wouldn’t be a bad investment,” said Mr. Fairfield. “We wouldn’t build, you know, but buy a house, and then fix it up to suit ourselves. And, whenever we tired of it, we could sell it.”
“Good business, Mr. Fairfield,” said Patty, nodding her head at him approvingly. “Now, I know the spot I’d