The state of mind into which Patty was thrown by this letter may be imagined. "The insolent puppy!" she cried, sitting alone in her room. It was rather a strong epithet to apply to Dick Torrington, who never in his life had been anything but kind and protecting. But people seldom wish to be protected against themselves. "Upstart!" That, Dick certainly was not. "Why, that means that I can't pay my own board. And Miss Miller will think—I don't know what she will think, but the whole town will know about it." Her face crimsoned with mortification. She thought deeply for some time. "I know what I'll do," she said to herself with determination when she had come to an end of her thinking, which, by the way, she seldom did; not to any logical end. "I know what I'll do. I will go right out to Doctor Sanderson's. He won't talk. It's a little early to go into the country, but I need a change."
So Patty was quite cheerful, for the time being, while she arranged the change which she needed so badly. Miss Miller was less cheerful and allowed herself to remark that perhaps it was just as well, as Patty didn't seem to be able to pay her bills promptly; able or willing, she didn't know which and it didn't matter much which it was, as far as she could see. But she might have stayed her season out, now that Dick Torrington was willing to undertake the job of looking after her, and a thankless job it was, as she, Mary Miller, could bear witness. And thereupon Miss Mary Miller turned her back upon Miss Patty and flounced out of the room before Patty should make any suitable reply.
Miss Miller need not have hurried out of the room, for Patty was too much astonished to think of any fitting reply for some time. She sat with her mouth open—a sight which it is to be presumed Miss Miller would have been glad to see—with her mouth open, which was very unusual for Miss Patty, and with her cheerfulness quite gone, which was not at all unusual. After a few minutes she remembered to close her mouth, but she did not resume her cheerfulness. So Miss Miller knew, after all. Patty wondered, vaguely, how she had found out. She did not suspect Dick, for Dick had a talent for keeping his own counsel. She could not guess, although she had tried, goodness knew! And Patty heaved a long sigh and gave it up. Then, if Mary Miller knew, Letty Lambkin knew, and one could be sure that everybody in town, of her acquaintance who would listen to her, would know, too.
As a matter of fact, Letty Lambkin was bursting with information. She went to Mrs. Upjohn's early that year, ostensibly to make that lady some summer clothes, but really because Mrs. Upjohn let her talk freely; I wouldn't say that Mrs. Upjohn encouraged her to talk, for Letty did not need any actual encouragement. But she let her talk, freely, and that was equivalent to encouragement.
"Alicia," Letty began, almost as soon as she had got inside the door, "I s'pose you know about poor Patty. It's the common talk." Mrs. Upjohn had no chance to reply. "Dick Torrington's taken it upon himself to manage her affairs, and all Patty has is her allowance. But of course you know that. It seems rather a high-handed thing for Dick to do, and he only a little tow-headed shaver when Patty was a grown woman. I suppose he has the right to do it, or else he wouldn't. I'm told that Patty was getting into a terrible mess with her property. She used the checks that were meant for the builder for another purpose, I hear. Poor Mr. Means! And Mary Miller had to wait, too."
Mrs. Upjohn laughed comfortably. "I guess Charlie Ladue could tell something about those checks."
"Like enough he could," said Miss Lambkin, preparing to go to work. "Where's your cloth, Alicia? Oh, in your room? Don't you stir. I'll get it." She came back immediately. "Well, as I was saying, it's really too bad that Patty's mind is giving way."
"Her mind giving way!" echoed Mrs. Upjohn, surprised out of her usual caution. "Oh, I guess not. Who told you that, Letty?"
"Yes, indeed," said Miss Lambkin with a toss of her head. "Didn't you know that she's been sent out to Doctor Sanderson's Home for Incurables? Dick sent her out there nearly a month ago. She's as comfortable there as could be expected. I have it on the best of authority—some one connected with the institution," she added with a nod and a knowing look.
Mrs. Upjohn laughed again. "I can't believe it, Letty. You must have been misinformed. In the first place, Doctor Sanderson's place isn't a home for incurables."