Patty still looked straight ahead, but an irrepressible smile dimpled the corners of her mouth.
“Do you think it will rain?” she said.
“By Jove, I won’t stand this!” cried the Earl, impetuously. “I know you are yourself—the Miss Fairfield I talked with last night—but why you’re masquerading as a schoolgirl, I don’t know!”
At this Patty could restrain her mirth no longer, and her pretty laughter seemed to appease the Earl’s irritation.
“Am I not fit to be looked at, or spoken to?” he said, more gently; “and if not, you must at least tell me why.”
“I can’t tell you why,” said Patty, stifling her laughter, but still gazing at the far-away hills.
“Why can’t you? Have you promised not to?” The Earl meant this as a jest, little thinking it was the truth, but Patty, now nearly choking with merriment, said demurely, “Yes, sir.”
“Nonsense! I’m not going to eat you! Look at me, child.”
“I can’t,” repeated Patty, in a small voice, and holding her wilful, golden head very straight, as she stared firmly ahead.
“Whom did you promise?”