“No, ducky stepmother of mine. The only way you can help is to head off callers. I can do the work if I can keep at it. But if the girls come bothering round, I’ll never get it done. Now, this afternoon, I want to do a lot, so if any one asks for me, won’t you gently but firmly refuse to let them see me? Make yourself so entertaining that they’ll forget my existence.”
“I’ll try,” said Nan, dubiously; “but if it’s Elise or Clementine, they’ll insist on seeing you.”
“Let ’em insist. Tell ’em I have a sick headache,—for I feel sure I shall before the afternoon’s over.”
“Now, Patty, I won’t have that sort of thing! You may work an hour or so, then you must rest, or go for a drive, or chat with the girls, or something.”
“I will, other days, Nan. But to-day I want to put in the solid afternoon working, so I’ll know how much I can accomplish.”
“Have you really a dozen of those things to do, Patty?”
“Yes, I have.” Patty didn’t dare say she had three dozen. “And if I do well this afternoon, I can calculate how long the work will take. Oh, Nan, I do want to succeed. It isn’t only the work, you know, it’s the principle. I hate to be baffled; and I won’t be!”
A stubborn look came into Patty’s pretty eyes,—a look which Nan knew well. A look which meant that the indomitable will might be broken but not bent, and that Patty would persevere in her chosen course until she conquered or was herself defeated.
So, after luncheon, she returned to her task, a little less certain of success than she had been, but no less persevering.
The work was agreeable to her. She loved to embroider, and the dainty design and exquisite colouring appealed to her æsthetic sense.