It was about a week later. Nothing further had been said or done in the matter of Patty’s “occupation,” and Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield wondered what plan was slowly brewing under the mop of golden curls.

Mr. Hepworth began to hope his words had had an effect after all, and was about to lay the case of Miss Farley before some other true and tried friends.

But he had practically promised Patty to give her time for three more attempts; so he waited.

One day Patty came into the house just in time for luncheon.

“Nan,” she said, as they sat down at the table, “I’ve struck it right this time!”

“In-deed!” said Nan, raising her eyebrows, quizzically.

“Yes, I have! You needn’t laugh like that.”

“I didn’t laugh.”

“Yes, you did,—behind your eyes, but I saw you! Now, as I tell you, this time conquers!”

“Good for you, Patsy! Let me congratulate you. Let me do it now, lest I shouldn’t be able to do it later.”

“Huh! I thought you had faith in me.”

“And so I have, Patty girl,” said Nan, growing serious all at once. “I truly have. Also, I’ll help you, if I can.”

“That’s just it, Nan. You can help me this time, and I’m going to tell you all about it, before I start in.”

“Going to tell me now?”

“Yes, because I go this afternoon.”

“Go where?”

“That’s just it. I go to take a position as a companion to an elderly lady. And I shall stay a week. I’ll take some clothes in a suitcase, or small trunk, and after I’m gone, you must tell father, and make it all right with him.”

“But, Patty, he said at the outset, you must be home by five o’clock every day, whatever you were doing.”

“Yes; but that referred to occupations by the day. Now, that I’ve decided to take this sort of a position, which is really more appropriate to a lady of my ‘social standing,’ you must explain to him that I can’t come home at five o’clock, because I have to stay all the time, nights and all.”

“Patty, you’re crazy!”

“No, I’m not. I’m determined; I’m even stubborn, if you like; but I’m going! So, that’s settled. Now, you said you’d help me. Are you going to back out?”

“No; I’m not. But I can’t approve of it.”

“Oh, you can, if you try hard enough. Just think how much properer it is for me to be companion to a lovely lady in her own house, than to be racing around lower Broadway for patchwork!”

“That’s so,” said Nan, and then she realised that if she knew where Patty was going, they could go and bring her home at any time, if Mr. Fairfield wished.

“Well,” she went on, “who’s your lovely lady?”

“Mrs. Van Reypen.”

“Patty Fairfield! Not the Mrs. Van Reypen?”

“Yes, the very one! Isn’t it gay? She’s a bit eccentric, and she advertised for a companion, saying the application must be a written one. So I pranced up to her house this morning, and secured the position.”

“But she said to apply by letter.”

“Yes; that’s why I went myself! I sent up my card, and a message that I had come in answer to her advertisement. She sent back word that I could go home and write to her. I said I’d write then and there. So I helped myself to her library desk, and wrote out a regular application. In less than five minutes, I was summoned to her august presence, and after looking me over, she engaged me at once. How’s that for quick action?”

“But does she know who you are?”

“Why, she knows my name, and that’s all.”

“But she’s a,—why, she’s sort of an institution.”

“Yes; I know she’s a public benefactor, and all that. But, really, she’s very interesting; though, I fancy she has a quick temper. However, we’ve made the agreement for a week. Then if either of us wants to back out, we’re at liberty to do so.”

“She was willing to arrange it that way?”

“She insisted on it. She never takes anybody until after a week’s trial.”

“What are your duties?”

“Oh, almost nothing. I’m not a social secretary, or anything like that. Merely a companion, to be with her, and read to her occasionally, or perhaps sing to her, and go to drive with her,—and that’s about all.”

“No one else in the family?”

“I don’t think so. She didn’t speak of any one, except her secretary and servants. She’s rather old-fashioned, and the house is dear. All crystal chandeliers, and old frescoed walls and ceilings, and elaborate door-frames. Why, Nan, it’ll be fun to be there a week, and it’s so,—well, so safe and pleasant, you know, and so correct and seemly. Why, if I really had to earn my own living, I couldn’t do better than to be companion to Mrs. Van Reypen.”

“No; I suppose not. What is the salary?”

“Ah, that’s the beauty of it! It’s just fifteen dollars a week. And as I get ‘board and lodging’ beside, I’m really doing better than I agreed to.”

“I don’t like it, Patty,” said Nan, after a few moments’ thought. “But it’s better, in some ways, than the other things you’ve done. Go on, and I’ll truly do all I can to talk your father into letting you stay there a week; but if he won’t consent, I can’t help it.”

“Why, of course he’ll consent, Nan, if you put it to him right. You can make him see anything as you see it, if you try. You know you can.”

“Well, go ahead. I suppose a week will pass; and anyway, you’ll probably come flying home after a couple of days.”

“No; I’m going to stay the week, if it finishes me. I’m tired of defeats; this time I conquer. You may help me pack, if you like.”

“You won’t need many frocks, will you?” said Nan, as they went up to Patty’s room.

“No; just some light, dressy things for evening,—she’s rather formal,—and some plain morning gowns.”

Nan helped Patty with her selection, and a small trunk was filled with what they considered an appropriate wardrobe for a companion.

At about four o’clock Patty started, in the motor-car.

Mrs. Van Reypen received her pleasantly, and as they sat chatting over a cup of tea, Patty felt more like an honoured guest than a subordinate.

Then Mrs. Van Reypen dismissed her, saying:

“Go to your room now, my dear, and occupy yourself as you choose until dinner-time. Dinner is at seven. There will be no guests, but you will wear a light, pretty gown, if you please. I am punctilious in such matters.”

Patty went to her room, greatly pleased with the turn events had taken. She wished she could telephone home how pleasantly she was getting along; but she thought wiser not to do that so soon.

As it neared dinner-time, she put on one of her prettiest dresses, a light blue chiffon, with a touch of silver embroidery round the half-low throat and short sleeves.

A few minutes before seven, she went slowly down the dark, old staircase, with its massive newels and balusters.

As she reached the middle steps, she observed an attractive, but bored-looking young man in the hall.

He had not noticed her light steps, and Patty paused a moment to look at him. As she stood, wondering who he might be, he chanced to turn, and saw her.

The young man ran his eyes swiftly, from the cloud of blue chiffon, up to the smiling face, with its crown of massed golden hair, which a saucy bow of blue ribbon did its best to hold in place.

His face promptly lost its bored expression, and with his hands still in his pockets, he involuntarily breathed a long, low whistle.

The sound seemed to bring back his lost wits, and quickly drawing his hands into view, he stepped forward, saying:

“I beg your pardon for that unconventional note of admiration, but I trust you will accept it as the tribute for which it was meant.”

This was an easy opening, and Patty was quite ready to respond gaily, when she suddenly remembered her position in the house and wondered if a companion ought to speak to a strange young man in the same language a young person in society might use.

“Thank you,” she said, uncertainly, and her shy hesitation completely captured the heart of Philip Van Reypen.

“Come on down; I won’t eat you,” he said, reassuringly. “You are, I assume, a guest of my aunt’s.”

“I am Mrs. Van Reypen’s companion,” said Patty, but though she made the announcement demurely enough, the funny side of it all struck her so forcibly that she had difficulty to keep the corners of her mouth from showing her amusement.

“By Jove!” exclaimed the young man, “Aunty Van always is lucky! Now, I’m her nephew.”

“Does that prove her good luck?” said Patty, unable to be prim in the face of this light gaiety.

“Yes, indeed! Come on down, and get acquainted, and you’ll agree with me.”

“I don’t believe I ought to,” said Patty, hesitatingly placing one little satin-slippered foot on the next step below, and then pausing again. “You see, I’ve never been a companion before, but I don’t think it’s right for me to precede Mrs. Van Reypen into the drawing-room.”

“Ah, well, perhaps not. Stay on the stairs, then, if you think that’s the proper place. I daresay it is,—I never was a companion, either; so I’m not sure. But sit down, won’t you? I’ll sit here, if I may.”

Young Van Reypen dropped onto a stair a few steps below Patty, who sat down, too, feeling decidedly at her ease, for, upon occasion, a staircase was one of her favourite haunts.

“It’s like a party,” she said, smiling. “I love to sit on a staircase at a party, don’t you?”

And so provocative of sociability did the staircase prove, that when Mrs. Van Reypen came down, in all the glory of her black velvet and old lace, she nearly tumbled over two chatting young people, who seemed to be very good friends.

“Philip! You here?” she exclaimed, and a casual observer would have said she was not too well pleased.

“Yes, Aunty Van; aren’t you as glad to see me as I am to see you? I’ve been making Miss Fairfield’s acquaintance. You may introduce us if you like, but it isn’t really necessary.”

“So it seems,” said the old lady, drily; “but as I have some regard for the conventions, I will present to you, Miss Fairfield, my scape-grace and ne’er-do-well nephew, Philip Van Reypen.”

“What an awful reputation to live up to,” said Patty, smiling at the debonair Philip, who quite looked the part his aunt assigned to him.

“Awful, but not at all difficult,” he responded, gaily, and Patty followed as he escorted his aunt to the dining-room.

The little dinner-party was a gay one; Mrs. Van Reypen became mildly amiable under the influence of the young people’s merry chatter, and Patty felt that so far, at least, a companion’s lot was not such a very unhappy one.

After dinner, however, the young man was sent peremptorily away. He begged to stay, but his aunt ordered him off, declaring that she had seen enough of him, and he was not to return for a week at least. Philip went away, sulkily, declaring that he would call the very next morning to inquire after his aunt’s health.

“I trust you are not flirtatiously inclined, Miss Fairfield,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, as the two sat alone in the large and rather sombre drawing-room.

“I am not,” said Patty, honestly. “I like gay and merry conversation, but as your companion, I consider myself entirely at your orders, and have no mind to chatter if you do not wish me to do so.”

“That is right,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, approvingly. “You cannot have many friends in your present position, of course. And you must not feel flattered at Mr. Philip’s apparent admiration of you. He is a most impressionable youth, and is caught by every new face he sees.”

Patty smiled at the idea of her being unduly impressed by Mr. Van Reypen’s glances. She had given him no thought, save as a good-natured, well-bred young man.

But she pleasantly assured Mrs. Van Reypen that she would give her nephew no further consideration, and though Mrs. Van Reypen looked sharply at Patty’s face, she saw only an honest desire to please her employer.

The evening was long and uninteresting.

At Mrs. Van Reypen’s request, Patty read to her, and then sang for her.

But the lady was critical, and declared that the reading was too fast, and the singing too loud, so that when at last it was bedtime, Patty wondered whether she was giving satisfaction or not.

But she was engaged for a week, anyway, and whether satisfactory or not, Mrs. Van Reypen must keep her for that length of time, and that was all Patty wanted.

She woke next morning with a pang of homesickness. It was a bit forlorn, to wake up as a hired companion, instead of as a beloved daughter in her own father’s house.

But resolutely putting aside such thoughts, she forced herself to think of her good fortune in securing her present position.

“I’m glad I’m here!” she assured herself, as she dashed cold water into her suspiciously reddened eyes. “I know I shall have all sorts of odd and interesting adventures here; and I’m determined to be happy whatever happens. And, anyway, it will be over soon. A week isn’t long.”

Putting on a trim morning dress, of soft old rose cashmere, with a fine embroidered white yoke, she went sedately down to the breakfast room. She had been told to come to breakfast at nine o’clock, and the clock struck the hour just as she crossed the threshold.

Instead of her employer, she was astounded to see Philip Van Reypen calmly seated at the table.

“Jolly to see you again!” he cried, as he jumped up to greet her. “Just thought I’d run in for a bite of breakfast, and to inquire how Aunty Van’s cold is.”

“I didn’t know she had a cold,” said Patty, primly, trying to act as she thought a companion ought to act.

“Neither did I,” said the irrepressible Philip. “But I didn’t know but she might have caught one in the night. A germ flying in at the window, or something.”

Mindful of Mrs. Van Reypen’s admonitions, Patty tried not to appear interested in the young man’s remarks, but it was impossible to ignore the fact that he was interested in her.

She responded to his gay banter in monosyllables, and kept her dancing eyes veiled by their own long-fringed lids, but this only served to pique Philip’s curiosity.

“I’ve a notion to spend the day here, with Aunty Van,” he said, and then Patty glanced up at him in positive alarm.

“Don’t!” she cried, and her face betokened a genuine distress.

“Why not?” said the surprised young man; “have you learned to dislike me so cordially already?”

Amiable Patty couldn’t stand for this misinterpretation of her attitude, and her involuntary, smiling glance was a sufficient disclaimer.

But she was saved the necessity of a verbal reply, for just at that moment Mrs. Van Reypen came into the room.