She turned and entered the carriage, which started at once on its pleasant journey through the Westmoreland dales towards the south.
Miss Aline was sitting with her handkerchief to her eyes when Patsy sat down beside her.
"Why, what in the world is the matter, dear Miss Aline?" cried Patsy.
"I do think you might have been kinder to him," said the old lady. "I could not bear you to send him away like that."
"All for his good," said Patsy easily. "He has been too long mollied over by his mother, besides getting all his own way from his grandfather. But ... before I finish I shall make a man of Master Louis!"
"And Stair Garland?" ventured Miss Aline, taking one swift glance sidelong at Patsy's dark, decided face.
"Oh, Stair Garland," said Patsy with emphasis, "he is a man already. As old Dupont, my French governess, used to say, Stair Garland was born with the 'panache.'"
"And what does that mean?"
"Why, that he was born with his hat-plume in the wind and his hand on a sword-hilt. But I am not sure that he has not been born a century or so too late. What a soldier of fortune he would make, what a cavalry leader, what an adventurer—what a lover!"
"But, my dear," said Miss Aline, speaking very softly, "what a very dangerous man to think of marrying!"