“Nothing else,” admitted Barnes, “but,” he added, anxiously glancing towards the buttery, “you mustn’t let the servants know.”
“Perhaps you’re not even Mr. Van Patten’s son?”
“I am no relation whatever,” confessed Barnes.
“Eleanor,” gasped Aunt Philomela weakly.
The girl turned and smiled upon her. After the first shock, she strangely enough was the only composed one of the group. She was not only composed but elated.
“Let me explain,” begged Barnes, facing the doctor squarely. “After all, it’s a simple ruse; the boy Joe would not come, and so to save Mr. Van Patten from the shock of this news, I volunteered. The deceit has worked perfectly; he suspects nothing, and is, as you saw, a happy man.”
“Well,” muttered the doctor, “so that explains it.”
His face began to brighten and continued until it had expanded into a broad grin. With this expression he again confronted Aunt Philomela, whose cheeks had turned a fiery red.
“Aunty Schuyler,” he declared, “I didn’t think it was in you.”
“I know that it—it was contemptible, but I—I couldn’t help it,” she faltered.