The Tryst (Musaicum Romance Classics). Grace Livingston Hill

of her father, and the honor of the family she must remain hidden, much as she might desire to renew the acquaintance of the beautiful summer which seemed now so long ago. She drew a deep sigh and her eyes grew dreamy over memories of walks and rides and picnics, and. John Treeves's home, the little white cottage at the end of the village street, which would always seem to her the personification of the word Home; the strong, sweet, womanly, merry mother who had taken her into her arms and kissed her for the sake of her own mother. That kiss and the gentle loving tones that had told her of Mrs. Treevee's childish friendship for Patricia's girl-mother, had served to soften many a harsh word and cold action during the years, because she could always remember little beautiful loving things that Mrs. Treeves had told her about her mother as a child, and somehow she had succeeded in putting the halo of that childhood about the haughty head of the mother who had never shown her the deep love she had always craved.

      The sun had slipped out of sight now into the deep blue heart of the pines, and the crimson streak was fading from the ether above. Patty drew another soft little sobbing sigh, scarcely audible, and a tear unbidden slipped out the fringes and dashed silently down her cheek. Then startlingly grim from out the shadows of the room where she had supposed her patient to be peacefully sleeping, came a voice, very much awake indeed:

      “How long have you known that young man?”

      CHAPTER VII

       Table of Contents

      Patty, with a gasp, emerged hastily from her retrospection and dashed away the tears from her hot cheeks.

      “I – I beg your pardon?” she tried to say briskly, trying not to seem in a panic, “I thought you were asleep, Miss Cole – Madam!”

      “Don't madam me!” was the sharp retort. “I asked you how long you had known that young man. I know you thought I was asleep. You thought I didn't see down there in the office, too, but I’m not blind if I am rheumatic, and I've been young once if I am an old maid. I want to know how long you have known him."

      “Why – I ——” began Patty with her heart going like a trip-hammer playing trills, “I'm not sure that I know him at all. He looked a little like someone I met five years ago when I was visiting friends in New York state, but I wasn't sure.” She was breathing more freely now. This sounded perfectly reasonable, and was entirely true.

      “Well, he's the same one, and you know him, and he knows you, all right. I tell you I'm not blind. But what I want to know is how long and how well you know him!”

      There was a touch of dictatorial sharpness in the voice that put Patricia a bit on her dignity.

      "His mother and my mother were school friends. We played around together one summer when we were growing up. That is all," said Patty, coolly.

      “There, there! Now child, don't you go to getting uppish about it. You think it's none of my business, but you must remember that you were an utter stranger to me until yesterday, and that you're young and pretty; and whether you think I have the right or not, it's my moral responsibility to keep an eye on you, and you mustn't resent it.”

      “I know, Miss Cole,” said Patty quietly yet with a tiny bit of aloofness in her tone,” but you saw that I turned away without recognizing that young man. Wasn't that sufficient?”

      “H'm! That was just the trouble. He looked to me like a perfectly good young man, and why didn't you recognize him?”

      Patty stiffened and was glad that it was dark in the room. There was something in the arrogant old woman's voice that made her want to both laugh and cry.

      “I am not in a position to recognize anybody at present," said Patty.

      "Position fiddlesticks!" said the old lady. "That young man would only honor you the more if he thought you were earning your living! I can't be mistaken in a face like that!"

      Patty laughed outright.

      “Oh, indeed, you misunderstand me,” she said, “I wasn't worried about my position as earning my own living. But I told you in the beginning that there were reasons why it had become necessary for me, and none of my friends know the circumstances. It is very necessary for the comfort of those I love most that nobody should know anything about it at present. I do not wish to be recognized nor to have any of my friends find out where I am.”

      “H'm!”said the old lady speculatively. “You didn't run away, did you? Not that I care, but I'd like to know. It might make matters simpler.”

      “Why, yes, I think I did," said Patty thoughtfully, “but I had a perfectly good reason for doing so, and I'm not going back even if you try to make me, for I'm sure I did right.”

      “Well, I'm reasonably sure you did, too, if you say so,” responded the astonishing old lady, “and I'm not going to try. But there's something I want distinctly understood. You're not here in any menial position. I never travel with a maid, and I won't have a companion. I hate 'em! You are a distant relative of mine taking a trip with me. Understand?

      “But, Miss Cole, I couldn't put myself in a false position ——”

      “Nothing false about it. It's perfectly true. You are a distant relative of mine. Dates back to Adam. You can like it or not, but you can't deny it. And that’s what I hired you for, to be a young relative taking a trip with me. See? You can call me Aunt or Cousin, or whatever you like, but I'm a relative, and as long as you stay with me that's what you are to be! I like the fun of taking a pretty young girl around and playing with her. I'd take Marjorie if she'd let me, but she's too much of a high-flyer to be tied to an old woman's apron strings, and besides, she's a too-near relation. So, if you're agreeable I'll be Aunt Sylvia, or Cousin Sylvia, after this, or just plain Miss Sylvia, if you like that better.”

      “You're very kind – Miss – Miss Sylvia ——” said Patty slowly, "and I'll do my very best to be the nicest relative I know how and play around with you. But only, you'll please not expect me to hunt up any of my former acquaintances. I want to be – just Edith Fisher now. I must, you know.

      If s necessary!”

      Her cool young voice was quite determined and there was an extended silence in the room while the older woman thought it over. Then came her voice like an electric spark:

      “Be what you like!" she said snappily. " Only don't be a fool! Some people aren't worth sacrifices!”

      “Mine is,” said Patty firmly.

      There was an impatient stir from the bed:

      “Don't tell me you've fallen in love with some other young man when this one was around!”

      Patty laughed out happily.

      “Oh, dear no! Nothing like that! It's only a very dear relative. I haven't thought about falling in love yet!”

      “H'm!” said Miss Cole unbelievingly. “Well, ring for dinner – unless you'd like to go down. I'm feeling perfectly rested.”

      “Oh, no, please!” said Patty hurrying to the bell. “I’d much rather stay up here to-night; it’s so cosy!”

      So they had their dinner served upstairs, and Patty, with rosy cheeks and eyes that shone like stars, exerted herself to be as bright and entertaining as possible, while the old lady watched her grimly and with a kind of satisfaction that the girl would not have understood. After all, Miss Cole found great joy in a girl who could be entertaining to an old woman when there was a perfectly good and perfectly willing young man downstairs with whom she might have companied if she had tried.

      Patty, as she lay in her bed in the little room just off from Miss Cole's bedroom after the evening was over, thought about it all, and her cheeks grew warm in the darkness once more over the questions her inquisitor had put. How was she to conduct herself the next day, and the next, and all the days, supposing John Treeves were to remain in the hotel? It was not