A MOMENTOUS INTERVIEW
The rest of their stay at Herenden Hall passed off delightfully. Patty
fitted into her own niche, and everybody liked the natural, unaffected
young girl.
She and Jack Merivale became good chums, and went fishing together, and
rowing on the pond like old cronies.
It was Patty's nature to make friends quickly, and during her stay in
Kent, she had a royal good time. Lord Ruthven talked over the matter with
Lady Hamilton, and as he chose to consider it all a great joke on
himself, she also took his view of it. As for Patty, she was so engrossed
with other people that she nearly forgot all about the moonlight episode.
Only sometimes, when she chanced to catch sight of Lord Ruthven, she
would say to herself, "Sylvester, _Sylvester!_" and then turn away to
hide her laughter.
They stayed over until Tuesday, and then took the noon train back to
London, Lady Herenden expressing an earnest wish that Patty would visit
her again. Lady Kitty and Patty reached the Savoy duly, and Mr. Fairfield
invited the returned travellers to dinner in the great Restaurant. This
was a treat in itself, and Patty gleefully ran up to her room to dress
for dinner.
"Lend me one of your gowns to wear, Kitty?" she said, roguishly, looking
in at her friend's door.
"Go away, you bad child. You're not in my care, now. I shall confess all
to your father to-night at dinner, and then I've done with you."
"You've chosen a wise time," said Patty, sagely. "Father's always
especially good-natured at dinner."
"Let us hope he will be," said Lady Hamilton, who was really a little
anxious about it all. But she need not have been, for when the story was
told, both Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield looked upon it as a huge joke.
Nan, especially, was almost convulsed with laughter at the account Patty
gave of the moonlight scene, and her tragic repetition in a stage whisper
of "Sylvester, _Sylvester!_" was truly funny of itself.
"It couldn't be helped," said Mr. Fairfield, "and it was in no way your
fault, Lady Hamilton. It would have been a pity to shut Patty in her room
on such a gala occasion, and no one could foresee that she was going to
throw herself at the Earl's head!"
"Father!" exclaimed Patty, "I didn't do any such thing! He threw himself
at my feet, if you please."
"Well, it's all right, chickabiddy, but don't let it happen again. At
least, not for many years, yet. I suppose some time, in the far future, I
shall be asked to be a father-in-law to a Duke or a Count, but let's put
it off as long as possible."
"Then Nan will be Dowager Duchess," cried irrepressible Patty, "won't
that be fun!"
"I can do it," said Nan, with an air of self-satisfaction that made them
all laugh.
"I'm glad you exonerate me," said Lady Hamilton, with a sigh of relief.
"And since I let Patty appear too old, I'm going to average matters in
this way. Next week is the child's birthday, and I want to give her a
children's party, if I may. You and your husband may come, Mrs.
Fairfield, if you'll both dress as children of tender years."
"We'll do it," cried Mr. Fairfield. "This is an inspiration of yours,
Lady Hamilton, and will, as you say, quite even things up."
Then plans were speedily made for the children's party. It was only a
week to Patty's birthday, but Lady Kitty said that was long enough ahead
to send invitations to an afternoon affair.
For the party was to be held from three to six, and each guest was asked
to dress as a small child. Patty put considerable thought on her own
costume, for she said her eighteenth birthday was an important occasion,
and she must do it honour.
She finally decided on a quaint little Kate Greenaway dress, and
big-brimmed hat of dark green velvet with white feathers tumbling over
its brim. The frock was ankle length and short-waisted and she wore
old-fashioned little slippers, with crossed ribbons, and black lace
mitts. A shirred silk workbag hung at her side, and she carried a tiny
parasol.
A few days before the party, Patty had an inspiration. It came to her
suddenly, as most inspirations do, and it was so startling that it almost
took her breath away.
"I _can't_ do it," she said to herself, one minute; and "I _will_ do it,"
she said to herself the next.
Not daring to think long about it lest she lose her determination, she
started that very afternoon on her surprising errand.
She had the carriage to herself, for she had been to tea with a friend,
and on her way home she asked the coachman to stop at a house in Carlton
Terrace.
Reaching the house, Patty sent her card in by the footman, and awaited
results with a beating heart.
The footman returned to the carriage door, saying, Sir Otho Markleham
would be pleased to see Miss Fairfield, and resolutely crushing down her
timidity, Patty went in.
She was ushered into a large and formal drawing-room, and waited there a
few moments alone.
She wished she had been asked into a library, or some more cosy room, for
the stiff hangings, and massive furniture were oppressive. But she had no
time for further thought, for Sir Otho entered the room.
He bowed with exceeding courtesy, but with a surprised air, which was
indeed only natural.
Frightened almost out of her wits, Patty extended her hand, and though
she tried to conquer her embarrassment, her voice trembled, as she said:
"How do you do, Sir Otho? I've come to see you."
She tried to speak jauntily, but there was a queer little break in her
voice.
"So I perceive," said Sir Otho, coldly. "May I ask why I have this
honour?"
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 with me? We can plan so much more cosily
over the teacups."
"Yes, I will," said Patty, consulting her watch.
"Then let us have it served in the library, and not in this depressing
room, which you must associate with stormy outbursts of woe."
Patty laughed, and followed the stately old gentleman into the library,
where tea was soon served.
[Illustration: "'How _much_ pleasanter this is than squabbling'"]
"One lump?" said Patty, holding the sugar-tongs poised over a teacup,
while she put her head on one side and smiled at her host.
"Two, please. It's delightful to have some one make my tea for me, and
you do it very prettily."
"But, alas!" said Patty, in mock despair, "I'll soon be supplanted here,
by that 'obstinate, cross-grained' Lady Kitty."
"Why are you so sure she'll come back here to live?"
"Just give her the chance, and see," said Patty, wagging her head
sagaciously, as she poured her own tea.
"How _much_ pleasanter this is than squabbling," she observed, glancing
happily at her host.
"Yes, or crying," said he, a bit teasingly, and Patty blushed.
"That's past history," she said; "and _now_ I'll tell you my plan."
The details of the plan kept them both talking for some time, and then
Patty had to hurry away to reach home at her appointed hour.
"Now, I won't see you again until then," she said, as they parted at the
door. "But I know you won't fail me."
"Not I!" said Sir Otho, and with his hand on his heart, he made a
profound bow, and Patty drove homeward in the happiest mood she had known
for many a day.