It wasn’t exactly pride, but Patty had been brought up in an atmosphere of somewhat old-fashioned chivalry, and it jarred on her sense of the fitness of things to have Philip’s invitation to her referred to as a “kindness.”
So she decided to take a stand herself.
“I thank you for your kindness, Mr. Van Reypen,” she said, with just the slightest emphasis on kindness, “but I cannot accept it. I quite agree with Mrs. Van Reypen that I need rest.”
The speech was absurd on the face of it, for Patty’s rosy, dimpled cheeks and sparkling eyes betokened no weariness or lassitude.
But Mrs. Van Reypen accepted this evidence of the girl’s obedience to her wishes, and said:
“You are right, Miss Fairfield, and my nephew will excuse you from his party.”
Philip sent her a reproachful glance, and Patty dropped her eyes again, wishing dinner was over.
At last the ladies left the table, and Philip rose and held aside the portière while his aunt passed through.
As Patty followed, he detained her a moment, and whispered:
“It is cruel of you to punish me for my aunt’s unkindness.”