The enticing programme was carried out, and that afternoon Van Reypen came to call. It was the first time he had seen Patty since her illness, and she rather dreaded the meeting.
But Philip was so cheery and kindly that Patty felt at ease at once.
“Dear little girl,” he said, taking both her hands, “how good to see you looking so well. I’ve been so anxious about you.”
“Needn’t be any more,” said Patty, smiling up at him. “I’m all well now, and never going to be sick again. But I’ve been feeling very sorry for you, Phil.”
“Thank you, dear. It is hard, the old house seems so empty and lonely. But Aunty Van rather wanted to go, and she bade me think of her only with pleasant memories, and not with mourning.”
“She was always thoughtful of others’ feelings. And, Phil, how she did love you.”
“She did. And you, too; why, I never supposed she could care for any one outside our family as she cared for you.”
“She was awfully kind to me.”
“And you were to her. You were mighty good, Patty, to put up with her queer little notions the way you always did. And I say, do you know what she told me just before she died? She told me that you said you would learn to love me. Oh, Patty, did you? I don’t doubt her word, but sometimes she thought a thing was so, when really it was only her strong wish. So I must ask you. I didn’t mean to ask you today,—I meant to wait till you are strong and well again. But, darling, you look so sweet and dear, and I haven’t seen you for so long, I can’t wait. Tell me, Patty, did you tell Aunty Van that?”
Patty hesitated. A yes or no here meant so much,—and yet she couldn’t put him off.