Sir Otho looked so brave and manly as he made this confession, which was truly difficult for him, that Patty grasped his hand in both hers, and cried: “Oh, what a splendid man you are! I’ll never be afraid of you again!”
“You weren’t afraid of me, child. That’s why your words had weight with me. You fearlessly told me just what I was, and I had the grace to be ashamed of myself.”
“Never mind that now,” said Patty, eagerly. “Do you want to be friends again with Kitty?”
“More than anything on earth.”
“Well, then, let me manage it; and do it the way I want you to, will you?”
Patty’s voice and smile were very wheedlesome, and Sir Otho smiled in response, as he said:
“You’ve surely earned the right to manage it. How shall it be done? Will Kitty meet me halfway?”
“I think she will,” said Patty, slowly. “But she’s not very tractable, you know. Indeed, Sir Otho, she’s such a contrary-minded person, that if she knew you wanted to be kind to her, she’d likely run away.”
“Miss Patricia,” said Sir Otho, gravely, “you can’t tell me anything about my daughter Catharine that I don’t already know. And she is, indeed, contrary-minded, on occasion. As you so justly observed, she inherits my obstinate and cross-grained disposition.”
“And yet she’s so lovely to look at,” sighed Patty.