"I thank you for your _kindness_, Mr. Van Reypen," she said, with just the slightest emphasis on _kindness_, "but I cannot accept it. I quite agree with Mrs. Van Reypen that I need rest." The speech was absurd on the face of it, for Patty's rosy, dimpled cheeks and sparkling eyes betokened no weariness or lassitude. But Mrs. Van Reypen accepted this evidence of the girl's obedience to her wishes, and said: "You are right, Miss Fairfield, and my nephew will excuse you from his party." Philip sent her a reproachful glance, and Patty dropped her eyes again, wishing dinner was over. At last the ladies left the table, and Philip rose and held aside the portiere while his aunt passed through. As Patty followed, he detained her a moment, and whispered: "It is cruel of you to punish me for my aunt's unkindness." "I can't help it," said Patty, and as her troubled eyes met his angry ones they both smiled, and peace was restored. "After Friday," whispered Patty, as she went through the doorway. "After Friday," he repeated, puzzled by her words, but reassured by her smiles. And then Mrs. Van Reypen sent Patty to her room for the night, and when Philip came to the drawing-room he found he was destined to be entertained by his aunt alone. "Of course," said Patty, to her own reflection in her mirror, "a companion can't expect to sit with 'the quality,' but it does seem a shame to dress up pretty like this and then be sent to bed at nine o'clock! Never mind, only three evenings more in this house, and then victory for Patty Fairfield!" CHAPTER XVII THE ROAD TO SUCCESS Patty adhered to her resolution not to go to the theatre on Monday night, but when she saw Mrs. Van Reypen and Philip start off she secretly regretted her decision. She loved fun and gaiety, and it suddenly seemed to her that she had been foolishly sensitive about Mrs. Van Reypen's attitude toward her. However, it couldn't be helped now, so she prepared to spend the evening reading in the library. She would have liked to hold a long telephone conversation with Nan and her father, but she thought she had better not, for there were so many house servants on duty that a maid or a footman would be likely to overhear her. She played the piano and sang a little, then she wandered about the large and lonely rooms. Patty was a sociable creature, and had never before spent an evening entirely alone, unless when engaged in some important and engrossing work. But after a while the telephone rang, and when the parlour-maid told her the call was for her she flew to the instrument with glad anticipation. "Hello!" she cried, and "Hello!" returned a familiar voice. "Oh, Ken! of all people. How _did_ you know I was here?" "Oh, I found it out! How are you? May I come to see you?" "No, indeed! I'm a companion. I'm not expected to have callers. But I'm glad to talk to you this way. I'm alone in the house, except for the servants."