“Isn’t she exquisite?” she said, at last, for they were not within earshot, and Nan agreed that she was.
As the dinner proceeded, Patty glanced often at the lady of her admiration, and after a time was surprised and a little embarrassed to find that the White Lady was glancing at her.
Fearing she had stared more frankly than she realised, Patty refrained from looking at the lady again, and resolutely kept her eyes turned in other directions.
But as if drawn by a magnet, she felt impelled to look at her once more, and giving a quick glance, she saw the White Lady distinctly smiling at her. There was no mistake, it was a kind, amused little smile of a most friendly nature.
Patty was enchanted, and the warm blood rushed to her cheeks as if she had been singled out for a great honour. But frankly, and without embarrassment, she smiled back at the lovely face, and returned the pleased little nod that was then given her.
“Patty, what are you doing?” said Nan; “do you see any one you know?”
“No,” said Patty, slowly, almost as one in a dream, “my White Lady smiled at me,—that’s all,—so I smiled back at her, and then we bowed.”
“You mustn’t do such things,” said Nan, half smiling herself, “she’ll think you’re a forward American.”
“I am an American,” replied Patty, “and I’d be sorry to be called backward.”
“You never will be,” said her father. “Well, I suppose you may smile at her, if she smiles first, but don’t begin sending her anonymous notes.”