“I’d be delighted,” said Patty, but her attention centred on Sir Otho.
Could it be that was Lady Hamilton’s severe father? He did not look so obstinate as she had imagined him, but as she drew nearer, she observed the firm set of his square jaw and reversed her opinion.
Sir Otho was very tall and big, and his smoothly brushed hair was light brown without a trace of gray.
He wore closely-trimmed whiskers, of the style known as “mutton-chop,” and his cold gray eyes almost glittered as he looked through his glasses. The introduction to Miss Pauncefote implied also an introduction to Sir Otho, and in a moment Patty found herself chatting in a group of which Lady Kitty’s father was one.
There was something about the big man that awed her, and she naturally fell into conversation with Miss Pauncefote, while the two gentlemen talked together. But as they were all about to separate, and even after Sir Otho had said good-afternoon, Patty hesitated irresolutely for a second, and then turned back toward him again.
“Sir Otho,” she said, timidly.
“Well, ma’am, what is it?” was the response as he turned in surprise to look at her.
“I am very glad to meet you,” said Patty, and as soon as the words were uttered, she realised how absurd they were.
“Thank you, ma’am,” said the puzzled gentleman. He was very unresponsive, and showed in his face that he thought little of this exhibition of American forwardness.
“Especially so,” Patty went on, “because I know your daughter, Lady Hamilton.”