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The head ducked out of sight. In the flash glance Babcock caught of the face, he recognized the boy Cully, Patsy's friend, and the driver of the Big Gray. It was evident to Babcock that Cully at that moment was bubbling over with fun. Indeed, this waif of the streets, sometimes called James Finnegan, was seldom known to be otherwise.
Sometimes, indeed, she could have two or three interpretations to choose from, for in the Bothy Stair had gone over the play with Theobald's notes, comparing them with Pope's and Johnson's. Patsy's heart was in a strange topsy-turvy state all that day. Sometimes she would forget herself and "cosy up" against Stair as she used to snuggle close to her Uncle Julian.
"He is recommended as a very careful driver," said Mr. Merrick; "and moreover he has signed a contract to obey my orders." "Very good," said Beth. "I'm not afraid of Mr. Wampus. What next, Major?" "Next," continued Patsy's father, with a solemn wink at the row of curious faces, "your inventive relative has ordered the automobile rebuilt, thinking he's wiser than the makers.
"I believe," said Lawrence, "that my ankle is quite strong enough for me to walk to Aunt Patsy's and back, without sitting down to rest. I would be very glad to go with you, and I would like, too, to see that venerable colored woman again."
Uncle John's nieces withdrew to the protection of the doorway, but a big bearded fellow in a red shirt discovered them, and, lurching forward, pushed his evil countenance in Patsy's face, calling to his fellows in harsh tones that he had "found a partner for a dance."
But the evening of the Handicaps we took him back to the boarding house with us, and he sat beside Fosgill and ate ravenously of everything placed before him. We learned Patsy's life story that evening. He went to school generally. He lived with Brian. Brian was his brother, eighteen years old, and a man of business; Brian drove for Connors, the teamster.
Louise Merrick lived with her mother a few blocks away from Patsy's apartment, and her cousin Beth DeGraf was staying with her for a time. They had all spent the summer with Uncle John at Millville, and had only returned to New York a few days before. Beth's home was in Ohio, but there was so little sympathy between the girl and her parents that she was happy only when away from them.
She had thought Patsy's anxiety about Mustapha's being ridden by any one but himself unnecessary, perhaps even with an unconscious spice of vanity underlying it. Patsy had conquered Mustapha.
They led toward a hedge which separated the property from a large, vacant tract south of it. Nick could see where some person had recently broken through this hedge. And here he made a more important discovery, which gladdened his eyes. Beside the hedge were Deever's foot-prints, and another's. The second must be Patsy's. Passing through, Nick saw a wide field with a grove at its end.
Even Patricia Doyle had been indignant, at first; but Patsy's judgment was clearer than her cousin's and her nature more responsive. She quickly saw the humorous side of their adventure and could enjoy the recollection of her momentary fear. These two girls were spending the winter months in the glorious climate of Southern California, chaperoned by their uncle and guardian, John Merrick.
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