“Why, Philip!” Mrs. Van Reypen exclaimed; “you are indeed growing attentive to your aged aunt!”

“Middle-aged aunt!” he returned, gallantly; “and belonging to the early middle-ages at that! I told you I should call this morning, and I’d like another egg, please, aunty.”

“You may have all the eggs you want, but I am not at all pleased with your presence here after I expressly forbade it.”

“Oh, it isn’t a crime to call on one’s own aunt, is it?”

“It’s extremely rude. I have a busy day before me, and I don’t want a bothersome nephew around.”

Mrs. Van Reypen was exceedingly fond of Philip, and loved to have him at her house, but it was easy to be seen, now, that she considered him far too much interested in pretty Patty.

And partly because he was interested, and partly to tease his long-suffering aunt, the young man declared his intention of spending the day with them.

“I can’t have you, Philip,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, decidedly. “I want you to go away immediately after breakfast.”

“Just my luck!” grumbled her nephew. “I never can do anything I want to. Well, I’ll go downtown, but I’ll be back here to luncheon.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, shortly; “you’ll do nothing of the sort.”

The rest of the meal was not very enjoyable. Mrs. Van Reypen was clearly displeased at her nephew’s presence; Patty did not think it wise to take any active part in the conversation; and, though Philip was in gay spirits, it was not easy to be merry alone.

Patty couldn’t help smiling at his audacious speeches, but she kept her eyes down on her plate, and endeavoured to ignore the young man’s presence, for she knew this was what Mrs. Reypen wished her to do.

“Now you may go,” said the hostess, as Philip finished his egg. “I’d like to enjoy a cup of coffee in peace.”

“Oh, I’m peaceful!” declared Philip, crossing his hands on his breast and rolling up his eyes with an angelic expression.

“Good-by, Philip,” said his aunt, so icily that the young man rose from the table and stalked out of the room.

“Now,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, “we are rid of him.”

But in a few moments the smiling face again appeared at the door.

“I forgot to say good-by to Miss Fairfield,” he announced, cheerfully. “Mayn’t I do that, aunty?”

Mrs. Van Reypen gave an annoyed “Humph!” and Patty, taking her cue, bowed very coldly, and said “Good-morning, Mr. Van Reypen” in an utterly impersonal tone.

Philip chuckled, and went away, slamming the street door behind him, as a final annoyance to his aunt.

“You mustn’t think him a rude boy, Miss Fairfield,” she said. “But he delights to tease me, and unless I am positively cross to him he never lets up. But he is really devoted to me, and, I assure you, he scarcely noted your presence at all.”

“Of course not,” said Patty, with great difficulty restraining a burst of laughter. “No one could dream of Mr. Philip Van Reypen observing a companion.” Patty did not mean this for sarcasm; she desired only to set Mrs. Van Reypen’s mind at rest, and then the subject of Philip was dropped.

Soon after breakfast Mrs. Van Reypen conducted Patty to a pleasant morning room, and asked her to read the newspaper aloud.

“And do try to read slower,” she added. “I hate rapid gabbling.”

Patty had resolved not to take offence at the brusque remarks, which she knew would be hurled at her, so, somewhat meekly, she took up the paper and began.

It was a trying task. If she read an account of anything unpleasant she was peremptorily stopped; if the news was dry or prosy, that was also cut off short.

“Read me the fashion notes,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, at last.

So Patty read a whole page about the latest modes, and her hearer was greatly interested.

She then told Patty of some new gowns she was having made, and seemed pleased at Patty’s intelligent comments on them.

“Why, you have good taste!” she exclaimed, as if making a surprising discovery. “I will take you with me this afternoon when I go to Madame Leval’s to try on my gowns.”

“Very well,” said Patty. “And now, Mrs. Van Reypen, I’m sure there’s nothing more of interest in the paper; what shall I do next?”

“Heavens! Miss Fairfield, don’t ask such a question as that! You are here to entertain me. I am not to provide amusement for you! Why do you suppose I have you here, if not to make my time pass pleasantly?”

Patty was bewildered at this outburst. Though she knew her duties would be light, she supposed they would be clearly defined, and not left to her own invention.

But she was anxious to please, and she said, pleasantly:

“I think that’s really what I meant, but I didn’t express myself very well. And, you see, I don’t yet quite know your tastes. Do you like fancy work? I know a lovely new crochet stitch I could show you.”

“No; I hate crocheting. The wool gets all snarled up, and the pattern gets wrong every few stitches.”

“Then we’ll dismiss that. Do you like to play cards? I know cribbage, and some other games that two can play.”

“No; I detest cards. I think it is very foolish to sit and fumble with bits of painted pasteboard!”

Poor Patty was at her wits’ end. She had not expected to be a professional entertainer, and she didn’t know what to suggest next.

She felt sure Mrs. Van Reypen wouldn’t care to listen to any more reading just then. She hesitated to propose music, as it had not been very successful the night before. On a sudden impulse, she said:

“Do you like to see dancing? I can do some pretty fancy dances.”

It seemed an absurd thing to say, but Patty had ransacked her brain to think what professional entertainers did, and that was all she could think of, except recitations, and those she hated herself.

“Yes, I do!” cried Mrs. Van Reypen, so emphatically that Patty jumped. “I love to see dancing! If you can do it, which I doubt, I wish you would dance for me. And this evening we’ll go to see that new dancer that the town is wild over. If you really can dance, you’ll appreciate it as I do. To me dancing is a fine art, and should be considered so—but it rarely is. Do you require music?”

“Of course, I prefer it, but I can dance without.”

“We’ll try it without, first; then, if I wish to, I’ll ask Delia, my parlour-maid, to play for you. She plays fairly well. Or, if it suits me, I may play myself.”

Patty made no response to these suggestions, but followed Mrs. Van Reypen to the great drawing-room, at one end of which was a grand piano.

“Try it without music, first,” was the order, and Patty walked to the other end of the long room, while Mrs. Van Reypen seated herself on a sofa. Serenely conscious of her proficiency in the art, Patty felt no embarrassment, and, swaying gently, as if listening to rhythm, she began a pretty little fancy dance that she had learned some years ago.

She danced beautifully, and she loved to dance, so she made a most effective picture, as she pirouetted back and forth, or from side to side of the long room.

“Beautiful!” said Mrs. Van Reypen, as Patty paused in front of her and bowed. “You are a charming dancer. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed anything so much. Are you tired? Will you dance again?”

“I’m not at all tired,” said Patty. “I like to dance, and I’m very glad it pleases you.”

“Can you do a minuet?” asked the old lady, after Patty had finished another dance, a gay little Spanish fandango.

“Yes; but I like music for that.”

“Good! I will play myself.” With great dignity, Mrs. Van Reypen rose and walked to the piano.

Patty adjusted the music-stool for her, and she ran her delicate old fingers lightly over the keys.

“I’m sadly out of practice,” she said, “but I can play a tinkling minuet and you may dance to it.”

She began a melodious little air, and Patty, after listening a moment, nodded her head, and ran to take her place.

Mrs. Van Reypen was so seated at the piano that she could watch Patty’s dance, and in a moment the two were in harmony, and Patty was gliding and bowing in a charming minuet, while Mrs. Van Reypen played in perfect sympathy.

The dance was nearly over when Patty discovered the smiling face of Mr. Philip Van Reypen in the doorway.

His aunt could not see him, and Patty saw only his reflection in the mirror. He gave her a pleading glance, and put his finger on his lip, entreating her silence.

So she went on, without seeming to see him. But she wondered what his aunt would say after the dance was over.

Indeed, the funny side of the situation struck her so forcibly that she unconsciously smiled broadly at her own thoughts.

“That’s right,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, as the dancing and music both came to an end; “I am glad to see you smile as you dance. I have seen some dancers who look positively agonised as they do difficult steps.”

Patty smiled again, remembering that she had had a reason to smile as she danced, and she wondered why Philip didn’t appear.

But he didn’t, and, except that she had seen him so clearly in the mirror, and he had asked her, silently but unmistakably, not to divulge the fact of his presence, she would have thought she only imagined him there in the doorway.

“You dance wonderfully well,” went on Mrs. Van Reypen. “You have had very good training. I shall be glad to have you dance for me often. But—and please remember this—never when any one else is here. I wish you to dance for me only. If I have guests, or if my nephew is here, you are not to dance.”

This was almost too much for Patty’s gravity. For she well knew the old lady was foolishly alarmed lest her nephew should fall in love with a humble “companion,” and, knowing that the said nephew had gleefully watched the dance, it was difficult not to show her amusement.

But she only said, “I will remember, Mrs. Van Reypen.” She couldn’t tell of the intruder after his frantic appeal to her for silence, so she determined to ignore the episode.

“Now, you may do as you like until luncheon time,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, “for I shall go to my room and lie down for a rest. My maid will attend me, so I will bid you adieu until one o’clock. Wander round the house if you choose. You will find much to interest you.”

“Right you are!” thought Patty to herself. “I don’t believe I’d have to wander far to find a jolly comrade to interest me!” But she well knew if Mr. Philip Van Reypen was still in the house, and if she should encounter him and chat with him, it would greatly enrage the old lady.

“And,” thought Patty, “since I’ve made good with my dancing it’s a shame to spoil my record by talking to Sir Philip. But he is pleasant.”

Determined to do her duty, she went straight to her own room, though tempted to “wander round the house.”

And sure enough, though she didn’t know it, Mr. Van Reypen was watching her from behind the drawing-room draperies. His face fell as he saw her go up the stairs, and, though he waited some time, she did not return.

“Saucy Puss!” he thought. “But I’ll have a chat with her yet.”

Going to the library he scribbled a note, and sent it by a servant to Miss Fairfield’s room. The note said:

“Do come down and talk to a lonely, neglected waif, if only for a few minutes.