“But Mr. Hepworth is a lot older than Mr. Van Reypen, and nobody objects to his coming here.”
“Mr. Hepworth is an old friend of your father’s, and has always been in the habit of coming here often.”
“Well, these distinctions are too much for me,” declared Patty. “But I don’t care a snip-jack about Philip Van Reypen, personally. If I can just have his help on my thirty-one remaining problems, I’ll cheerfully bid him farewell forevermore.”
There was no mistaking Patty’s sincerity, and Nan felt decidedly relieved, for she and her husband had feared that Patty was taking too deep a personal interest in the attractive young millionaire.
“All right, girlie. Suppose, then, you send him two or three of your brain-rackers, and ask him to come around, say, on Monday next. That will convey a gentle hint not to come sooner.”
“That’s a long time,” said Patty, dubiously; “but, if I need to, I can send him more puzzles before that.”
Patty ran away to her study, and spent the morning working on her puzzles. It was by no means drudgery, for she enjoyed it all. The puzzles were of all sorts, from charades and square words, to the most abstruse problems. She solved several, and four she gave up as impossible for her ever to guess. These she concluded to send to Mr. Van Reypen.
But it was more difficult than she anticipated, to compose a note to go with them.
She had no wish to disobey her father’s commands, even in spirit, and wanted to write an impersonal letter, such as he would approve.
But, for some reason, she couldn’t accomplish it. Philip Van Reypen was himself so straightforward, and so quick to see through any subterfuge, that all the notes she wrote seemed to her artificial and insincere. She tore them up one after another, and at last, seizing her pen again, she wrote rapidly: