“I think,” she said, looking steadfastly at him, “I think you’re an obstinate, stubborn, selfish, cruel old—Pighead!”
She confessed, afterward, that at that moment she fully expected the irate old man to strike her. But he did not. Instead, he looked at her just a moment in amazement, and then burst into peals of laughter.
Surprised beyond measure, but unable to resist the infectious merriment, Patty laughed too.
“Oh, Miss Yankee Doodle,” said Sir Otho, wiping his eyes, “you are most astonishing. The strange part is, you are quite right. I am a stubborn old Pighead, but how did you know it? Do I wear my heart on my sleeve to that extent?”
“Have you a heart?” asked Patty, so gravely that Sir Otho again roared with laughter.
“And yet,” said Patty, thoughtfully, seeing that frankness pleased the old man, “and yet, no one with such a sense of humour as you seem to have can be wholly bad.”
“Oh, thank you! So I’m not wholly bad? Well, that’s a comfort; I always thought I was. But your friends are looking this way. I think they want you to rejoin them.”
“In a moment,” said Patty. “Sir Otho,—won’t you—please—send a flower back to my friend, Lady Hamilton?”
“I would do much for any friend of yours,” said the strange old man, very gravely, and taking a few steps to a nearby flower stand, he bought a bunch of sweet peas, and said, carelessly, “Give her those, if you like.”
Then formally escorting Patty back to her friends, he raised his hat, and walked quickly away.