He made a quick movement of withdrawal, and Patty hastily added a further detail.
"Dat tall young lady, she ver' unhappy too. She no laugh no more like she used."
He arrested the movement and waited with a touch of anxious curiosity to hear what was coming next.
"She feel ver' bad—ver' cross, ver' unhappy. She thinks always 'bout that li'l' quarrel. Four months she sit and wait—but you never come back."
Mr. Gilroy rose abruptly and strode to the window.
His unexpected visitors had dropped from the sky at the psychological moment. For two straight hours that afternoon he had been sitting at his desk grappling with the problem, which they, in their broken English, were so ably handling. Should he swallow a great deal of pride, and make another plea for justice? St. Ursula's vacation was at hand; in a few days more she would be gone—and very possibly she would never come back. The world at large was full of men, and Miss Jellings had a taking way.
Conny continued serenely to study her cards.
"One—More—Chance!" She spoke with the authority of a Grecian sibyl. "You try again, you win. No try, you lose."
Patty leaned over Conny's shoulder, eager to supply a salutary bit of advice.
"Dat tall young lady too much—" she hesitated a moment for fitting expression—"too much head in air. Too bossy. You make-a her mind? Understand?"