The black eyes of the old lady bored into Patty’s own. Her firm, hard mouth was set in a straight line. And with both hands she gripped Patty’s arms and shook her slightly. “Promise, or I shall die on the spot!”
“I promise,” said Patty, faintly, urged on by the older woman’s force of intensity of will.
Mrs. Van Reypen fell back exhausted. She seemed unconscious, but whether in a faint, or stunned by sudden reaction, Patty did not know.
She flew to the door and called the nurse.
“Goodness! What happened?” inquired Miss French. “Has she had any sort of mental shock?”
“She has given me one,” returned Patty, but the nurse was busy administering restoratives, and paid no heed.
Patty went slowly downstairs and out into the street. She walked home in a daze. What had she done? For to Patty a promise was a sacred thing and not to be broken. She hoped Mrs. Van Reypen would get better and she would go and ask to be released from a promise that was fairly wrung from her. She was undecided whether to tell Nan about it or not, but concluded to wait a day or two first. And then, she thought to herself, why wasn’t she prepared to fulfill the promise? Why didn’t she want to marry Phil, big, kind-hearted Phil, who loved her so deeply? At times it almost seemed as if she did want to marry him, and then again, she wasn’t sure.
“I’ll sleep over it,” she thought, “and by tomorrow I’ll know my own mind better. I must be a very wobbly-brained thing, anyhow. Why don’t I know what I want? But I suppose every girl feels like this when she tries to make up her mind. Philip is a dear, that’s certain. Maybe I’m worrying too much over it. Well, I’ll see by tomorrow.”
But the next day and the next, Patty was equally uncertain as to whether she was glad or sorry that she had made that promise.
And after another day or two she went down herself with the grip.