“I’m not sure,” Patty gave him a half smile, “I’ll think it over. Didn’t you know this man?”
“Not from Adam! But, you know, you can size up a chap a lot from appearances, and he was a good sort, and amenable to—well, to argument.”
“Golden argument,” laughed Philip. “You put it over, all right, Herron, old chap, and I’m sure Miss Fairfield will overlook her chaperon’s extra-sized feet! Had it not been that I noticed those, I might have been fooled myself. For the boy,—isn’t he a boy?”
“About twenty-five or so,—I should judge.”
“Well, his face was boyish, and his general effect young, yet he donned age with his wig and gown, and on the whole I call it a remarkable bit of disguise.”
“No wonder he didn’t knit!” exclaimed Helen. “And no wonder he choked when I proposed that we girls stay there longer!”
“He acted queerly all the time;” Patty looked thoughtful. “I’m thinking he knew too much about me and my affairs.”
“What are you getting at now, Patty?” Helen asked. “Think he’ll reappear in his proper person, and presume on our acquaintance?”
“No,” said Patty, “I’m afraid he won’t!”
Van Reypen looked at her.