“Well, I don’t know how it is,” said Patty, throwing off all responsibility in the matter; “but I like them and I like you, and yet, I’d rather have you at different times.”
“Which do you like better?” asked Mr. Hepworth. He knew it was a foolish question, but it was uttered almost involuntarily.
“Them!” said Patty, but she gave him such a roguish smile as she said it, that he almost thought she meant the opposite.
“Still,” she went on, with what was palpably a mock regret, “I shall have to put up with you for the present; so be as young as you can. How many lumps, please?”
“Two; you see I can be very young.”
“Yes,” said Patty, approvingly; “it is young to take two lumps. But now tell me something about Miss Farley. Have you heard from her or of her lately?”
“Yes, I have,” said Mr. Hepworth, as he stirred his tea. “That is, I’ve heard of her. My friend, down in Virginia, who knows Miss Farley, has sent me another of her sketches, and it proves more positively than ever that the girl has real genius. But, Patty, I want you to give up this scheme of yours to help her. It was good of your father to make the offer he did, but I don’t want you racing around to these dreadful places looking for work. I’m going to get some other people interested in Miss Farley, and I’m sure her art education can be managed in some way. I’d willingly subscribe the whole sum needed, myself, but it would be impossible to arrange it that way. She’d never accept it, if she knew; and it’s difficult to deceive her.”
Patty looked serious.
“I don’t wonder you think I can’t do what I set out to do,” she said slowly, “for I’ve made so many ridiculous failures already. But please don’t lose faith in me, yet. Give me one or two more chances.”
Mr. Hepworth looked kindly into Patty’s earnest eyes.