awoke with a start to the fact that Marjorie and her mother had ceased their conversation and the girl was staring at her with open intent. Suddenly, without meaning to in the least, Patty smiled at her, a ravishing smile of perfect equality and good fellowship, and after a second's surprise and haughty hesitation Miss Marjorie Horliss-Cole allowed a flicker of an answering smile to light up her own big melancholy eyes so that they were really beautiful.
But Mrs. Horliss-Cole was speaking now, as if she had just remembered the existence of her new dependent. She was not altogether sure, but this pretty young upstart needed a little setting down and showing of her place. And so in a very cool tone she began to talk about wages and duties, and to lay down the law pretty thoroughly about what Miss Sylvia liked and disliked until Patty was wholly indignant and a trifle frightened and wished she might get out and run away – only there was the great city, and night coming on with no money – and the impossibility of going back to her home.
Nevertheless there was something sweet and innately dignified about Patty, childish as she looked and sometimes seemed, that made it impossible to quite snub her. She had a way of opening her eyes wide and looking straightly and innocently through one that somehow froze the would-be freezer, and left herself untouched like a flower that did not understand it was being looked down upon.
At the station Patty was not allowed to go for her suitcase herself, but had to surrender her check and sit under a long lecture to Marjorie from her mother, while the chauffeur went after it. Somehow it made her feel like a prisoner, and she was glad indeed when Mrs. Horliss-Cole and her daughter were left in front of a large club building, and at last she was whirled away through a maze of city streets and out upon Riverside Drive.
The chauffeur pointed out Grant's Tomb and a number of other points of interest, at first condescendingly, but finally with a touch of respect in his voice as he saw that Patty held herself aloof, and presently she was taken back to the great house on Fifth Avenue and taken in charge by the maid she had seen before who took her up to a pleasant bedroom and told her to make herself comfortable and rest awhile until Miss Cole was ready to see her.
Patty took off her coat and hat, readjusted the soft embroidered crepe overblouse, washed her face and hands, and rear-ranged her hair. Then she sat down with a fresh magazine to await her summons, but the maid presently returned to say that Miss Cole did not care to see her until it was necessary. Patty waited until the door was shut and the maid's footsteps could no longer be heard down the polished hall, then she said out loud, quite viciously, "She's just an old crab, I know, and I wish I was back” – she caught her breath and her lip trembled – "back in college!” she finished bravely, and then throwing herself down on the pleasant-looking bed she buried her face in the pillow and had a good cry. After which she fell asleep and dreamed that she had caught the last ship for South America and was sailing to meet her father.
She awoke with a start to find the maid bending over her with a tray in her hand:
"Madam says you’re to have your dinner up here, and you will be ready to start in half an hour.”
She set the tray down on a little table, drew up a chair, adjusted a shaded electric lamp, and left the room.
Patty sat up and watched dazedly, and then as the door closed after her felt that she must rush out and bring her back and beg her to help her get out of this awful situation. But she didn't. She was a good sport, was Patricia. She remembered just in time how her father used to call her his "little Pat” with that tender, proud accent that meant he knew she would always have courage to "carry on,” and instead she got up, washed her face again just to get the sleep out of her eyes, smoothed her hair, adjusted her pretty toque, and sat down to the inviting tray. Being very hungry she ate with appreciation and realized that she felt better. After all it was as good as a play what she was doing. And she could always get out of it of course if it became unbearable. She wouldn't be any worse off than she was before she saw Mrs. Horliss-Cole. Why not make a good joke of it, and see what would happen? Perhaps the old lady wouldn't be such an ogre after all.
She was entirely ready when the summons came and followed the maid down through the long halls, this time to another door where the car stood waiting with the old lady already inside. There was a gentleman standing by the door talking to Mrs. Horliss-Cole, and from the few words she overheard she decided it must be Mr. Horliss-Cole, and it became evident that he was going with them to the station. Miss Cole's face was in the shadow and she did not speak to Patty, save to make an inarticulate motion of acknowledgment when her sister-in-law told her that here was the new Companion.
The girl was put into the front seat with the chauffeur, Mr. Horliss-Cole got in with his sister, and they whirled through the brilliant lights of the city. Patty caught her breath with delight as they turned into Broadway, her first sight of the fairyland of lights, and the chauffeur half-turned and asked her if she spoke. So Patty sat very straight and tried not to look as if she saw anything, until they rolled smoothly into the station.
There was a little stir as a porter rushed up with a wheeled chair, and Mr. Horliss-Cole gave Patty some bags to hold while he helped his sister out. In a moment more they were down the elevator and in the drawing-room compartment of the Pullman; Mr. Horliss-Cole had kissed his sister and departed.
Then, and not till then, did Patty get a full view of the face of Miss Sylvia Cole, and Miss Sylvia looked full into Patty's face and took stock of her.
“Well,” said Miss Sylvia curtly at last, “you're quite a child, aren't you? I thought they told me you had gray hair. I knew they were lying, somehow, they always do. Pretty too! I’ll be bound! Some combination for a companion. A pretty child!”
Patty laughed a silvery little bit of a laugh that rang out like a bell.
"I'm eighteen!" she declared brightly, “and as for my looks, I can't help them. Would you like the hot water-bag on your feet? They told me you would want a hot water-bag as soon as you got in."
“They told you that, did they? Well, then I don't. If they said I did, I don't. I don't want anything that that crew put upon me, and you can put that down and remember it I just want to be let alone awhile. When I want anything I’ll tell you. Now, sit down there where I can look at you.”
Patty sat down laughing and faced the old lady, and thus their journey together was begun.
CHAPTER V
An old man with eyes like a hawk and an arrogant beak sat shriveled into an invalid's chair in the sunniest window of the best suite in the hotel, querulously watching the driveway that wound up among the trees, glimpsable here and there at open points, until it curved in with a wide sweep at the elaborate gateway and rolled up under the porte cochere.
“You're sure the telegram said he would come on that train, Hespur? You haven't made a mistake about it? Where's that telegram? You've thrown it away, I suppose. You ought never to throw away a thing like that until the time for it is over. I've told you that a thousand times ——”
"Telegram right here, sir." He laid the yellow paper in the trembling hand of the invalid. “It says he'll be on the afternoon train."
"Well, isn't there more than one train in the afternoon?” queried the old man excitedly, his voice rising portentously. “What right did you have to jump to that conclusion? I've told you more than once ——"
“It’s the only train from the North, Mr. Treeves."
"Well,
