And at that moment, raising her eyes, she saw the object of her animadversions—a tall, slender man of two or three and thirty—coming up the walk. He seemed surprised to find her at home.
"Good-morning," Mr. Putnam said, in a voice which few persons heard with indifference, so rich and pleasing it was. "I supposed you had gone to the picnic."
"You see I haven't."
It required no great penetration to see that Patty was out of spirits. The new-comer looked at her keenly.
"Thank you, I will sit down for a moment," he said, as if she had invited him to do so. "These steps are very comfortable. Don't trouble to get me a chair."
"I had not the faintest intention of doing so," she returned.
"Why have you not gone?" he asked, looking up at her curiously from his seat upon the piazza-steps.
"I chose to stay at home," she answered shortly.
"Conclusive, but impossible. A better reason, please?"