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The broad, beautiful s.p.a.ce was crowded with tables, and the tables were crowded with people. Merry, chatting, laughing Londoners, Americans, and foreigners mingled in groups and drank tea together.
Mrs. Hastings and Patty were met by their host, Mr. Pauncefote, and escorted to a table, already surrounded by several people.
Patty felt greatly pleased when she found herself seated between Grace and Tom Meredith, and listened with interest as they designated various celebrated people who were strolling by.
"But, after all," she said, at last, "Dukes and d.u.c.h.esses don't look very different from ordinary people."
"Of course they don't. Why should they? They aren't any different," said Tom. "Indeed, Miss Fairfield, I've vanity enough to believe you'd find me more interesting than some of the Dukes."
"I'm sure you are," laughed Patty, "but if I were introduced to a real Duke, I'd be so scared I wouldn't know what to say."
"Now I call that too bad," declared Tom, with an aggrieved look. "And, pray, why aren't you scared when in my august society?"
"I am," said Patty, dimpling, as she smiled at him, "only I'm successfully striving not to show my quaking fright."
"That's better. I hope the longer you know me, the more awed you'll be of my,--of my----"
"Of your what?" calmly inquired his sister.
"'Pon my word, I don't know," confessed Tom, good-naturedly; "of my awesomeness, I suppose."
"How do you like London?" said a loud voice, in the tones that are sometimes called stentorian, and Patty suddenly realised that her host was addressing her.
A bit embarra.s.sed at finding the eyes of all at the table upon her, she answered, shyly: "I love it; it is so--so kind to me."
"Bravo! Pretty good for an American," shouted Mr. Pauncefote, who seemed unable to moderate his voice. "And which do you like best, the people or the show-places?"
"The people," said Patty, her embarra.s.sment lost sight of in a flash of mischief. "I like the Members of Parliament better than Parliament House."
"Good! Good!" cried the portly M.P., striking the table with his fist until the cups rattled; "that's true Yankee cleverness. You're a good sort, my child. Are they all like you in America?"
"Yes, I think so," said Patty, demurely; "are they all like you in England?"
Patty's innocent air of inquiry robbed the speech of all effect of pertness, and the genial Mr. Pauncefote roared with delight.
"Ha, ha!" he cried; "all like me in England? No, my child, no! Heaven be praised, there are very few after my pattern."
"That's too bad," said Patty. "I think your pattern is a good one."
"It is," said Tom Meredith. "If we had more statesmen after Mr.
Pauncefote's pattern, the House of Commons would be better off."
This speech called forth applause from the other guests, and the host said, loudly: "Pshaw, pshaw!" but he looked greatly pleased.
When the tea was over and the party rose from the table, Mr. Pauncefote detained Patty for a moment's chat, while the others broke up into smaller groups or wandered away.
"I want you to meet my daughter," he was saying; "the young lady in gray over there, talking to Sir Otho."
"Sir Otho who?" said Patty, quickly, forgetting to respond in regard to Miss Pauncefote.
"Sir Otho Markleham; see the large gentleman with gold-rimmed gla.s.ses.
She is my youngest daughter, and I know she'd be glad to meet you."
"I'd be delighted," said Patty, but her attention centred on Sir Otho.
Could it be that was Lady Hamilton's severe father? He did not look so obstinate as she had imagined him, but as she drew nearer, she observed the firm set of his square jaw and reversed her opinion.
Sir Otho was very tall and big, and his smoothly brushed hair was light brown without a trace of gray.
He wore closely-trimmed whiskers, of the style known as "mutton-chop,"
and his cold gray eyes almost glittered as he looked through his gla.s.ses.
The introduction to Miss Pauncefote implied also an introduction to Sir Otho, and in a moment Patty found herself chatting in a group of which Lady Kitty's father was one.
There was something about the big man that awed her, and she naturally fell into conversation with Miss Pauncefote, while the two gentlemen talked together. But as they were all about to separate, and even after Sir Otho had said good-afternoon, Patty hesitated irresolutely for a second, and then turned back toward him again.
"Sir Otho," she said, timidly.
"Well, ma'am, what is it?" was the response as he turned in surprise to look at her.
"I am very glad to meet you," said Patty, and as soon as the words were uttered, she realised how absurd they were.
"Thank you, ma'am," said the puzzled gentleman. He was very unresponsive, and showed in his face that he thought little of this exhibition of American forwardness.
"Especially so," Patty went on, "because I know your daughter, Lady Hamilton."
"Bless my soul!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Sir Otho Markleham, the red blood dyeing his large face crimson, and his eyes fairly snapping with anger.
"Yes, I do," went on Patty, resolved now to plunge in desperately, "and she sent you these flowers."
Patty had previously detached two or three of the prettiest sprays of the lilies of the valley, and now held them out, with the air of one fulfilling a trust.
For a moment Sir Otho Markleham looked as if he would really like to pitch the American girl and her flowers into the river, and then, almost mechanically, he took the blossoms from Patty's hand.
Then, with a straight, cold stare at her, he said, in a hard voice: "I have no daughter," and after a stiff, formal bow, he walked away.
CHAPTER V
MISS YANKEE DOODLE
"You didn't, really!" exclaimed Lady Hamilton, as Patty gleefully described giving the flowers to Sir Otho Markleham.
"But I did, Kitty, and truly, he _was_ mad enough to pitch me into that yellow muddy old river. I greatly admire his self-control in not really doing it. But what eyes he has! So gray and steely, they cut right through me! And he just said, tragically, 'I have no daughter,' and stalked away. But--and this is the main thing--he kept the flowers!"
"How do you know?"