Feeling that she ought to return to her own post, Patty told her Chinaman so, and together they went back to the Romany Rest; but as Patty was about to take her place again at the fortune teller’s table, Mr. Phelps came along and desired her to go with him, and have her photograph taken. At first Patty demurred, though she greatly wanted to go, but Miss Leslie said she was not at all tired of fortune telling, and would gladly continue to substitute for Patty a while longer.
“Come on, then,” said Dick Phelps, “there’s no reason why you shouldn’t, since Miss Leslie is kind enough to fill your place.”
Patty still hesitated, for she thought that Kenneth would be still more offended if he saw her walking around with Mr. Phelps, after having told him that she could not leave the gypsy camp.
But Dick Phelps was of an imperious nature. He was accustomed to having his own way, and was impatient at Patty’s hesitation.
“Come on,” he said. “March!” And taking her by the arm, he led her swiftly down the path toward the photograph booth.
As he strode along, cowboy fashion, Patty said, meekly, “Let go of my arm, please, Mr. Phelps. I think you’ve broken two bones already! And don’t walk so fast. I’m all out of breath!”
“Forgive me,” said Dick Phelps, suddenly checking his speed, and smiling down at the girl beside him, “you see this cowboy rig makes me feel as if I were back on the plains again, and I can’t seem to adjust myself to civilised conditions.”
Mr. Phelps looked very splendid as a cowboy, and Patty listened with interest, as he told her of an exciting episode which had occurred during his ranch life, in a distant western territory.
So engrossed did they become in this conversation that the photographs were forgotten for the moment, and they strolled along past the various booths, unheeding the numerous invitations to enter.
Of course Kenneth saw them, and from a trifling offence, Patty’s conduct seemed to him to have grown into a purposed rudeness.