"And whose fault is it? Not mine, certainly." Henry chuckled.
"He hasn't a dry stitch on him," moaned Pat; "he may catch pneumonia. You should send him some dry clothes, and go yourself, and give him this information he's worked so hard to get. You really ought!"
"No!" thundered Henry, suddenly. "No matter if the papers send an army of reporters in motors, ships or airplanes, I refuse to give any information until the proper time, not if they tear the roof off." He took several fierce strides up and down the hall, then stopped dead, and again faced Pat. "Why, may I ask, are you so concerned in this driveling lunatic for news—this interfering, meddlesome young swine? Why?"
There was a pause. Pat's face took on a wistful look. Then she replied: "Why? Because I feel sorry for him, I guess. Oh, you don't know, Uncle, how wonderful this reporter seems to me. Never thinking of himself—taking dangerous risks—just to get news for his paper. I never realized until now how people who haven't much money, have to struggle to make a living. But I suppose life is like that—outside," she went on, half meditatively: "struggle and disappointment. In time, I dare say I'll find out more about life and get used to it, and pretend not to care—"
"Now, my dear, you're tired out," Jane broke in, in gentle solicitude. "You've had a tiring day." She laid an entreating hand on Pat's arm. "Better go to bed."
But once an idea was planted in Pat's brain, she clung to it tenaciously. Disregarding Jane, and still addressing Henry, she continued: "But I wouldn't get used to it, and I shall always care—always!"
"Care about what?" snapped Henry.
"Oh, just feeling I'm better than other people—poor, common people, and not caring what happens to them. No! I'll be darned if I will!"
"Patricia!" Jane chided.
"Oh, what's the good of pretending we are better than other people, just because we have everything," Pat retorted boldly. "If this reporter was in my own set, some young, rotten cad, and had driven up in a big motor car, and sent in his card, Uncle Henry would have received him with open arms. Because he is common and poor—"