She was a little annoyed at the absurd speeches of the old lady, and determined to put a stop to them.
“I should hope not,” was the reply. “A person in your position should not aspire to association with young gentlemen like my nephew.”
Patty was really angry at this, but her common sense came to her aid. If she elected to play the part of a dependent, she must accept the consequences. But she allowed herself a pointed rejoinder.
“Perhaps not,” she said. “Yet I suppose a companion of Mrs. Van Reypen’s would meet only the best people.”
“That, of course. But you cannot meet them as an equal.”
“No,” agreed Patty, meekly. Then to herself she said: “Only a week of this! Only six days now.”
That afternoon they went to the dressmaker’s.
Patty put on a smart tailored costume, and almost regretted that she had left her white furs at home. But she and Nan had agreed that they were too elaborate for her use as a companion, so she wore a small neckpiece and muff of chinchilla. But it suited well her dark-blue cloth suit and plain but chic black velvet hat.
The dressmaker, an ultra-fashionable modiste, looked at Patty with interest, recognising in her costume the work of adept hands.
Moreover, Patty’s praise and criticism of Mrs. Van Reypen’s new gowns showed her to be a young woman of taste and knowledge in such matters.