Though he and Nan had met but a few times, they had become rather chummy, which, however, was not unusual for him, if he liked anybody.
Young Van Reypen was of a gay and social nature, and made friends easily by his sheer good-humour. He admired Mrs. Fairfield very much, but, even more, he admired Patty. Ever since he had met her unexpectedly on his aunt’s staircase, he had thought her the prettiest and sweetest girl he had ever seen. So he was making every endeavour to cultivate her acquaintance, and, being of rather astute observation, he concluded it wise to make friends with the whole Fairfield family.
So the big, handsome chap went back to the drawing-room, and dropped on a sofa beside Nan.
“It’s awfully cold out,” he observed, plaintively.
“Is it?” returned his hostess, innocently.
“Yes; I hate to go out in the cold.”
“But you have to go, sooner or later.”
“Yes; but it may be warmer later.”
“On the contrary, it will probably grow colder.”
“Oh! do you think so? But, then again, it may not, and I’m quite willing to take the chance.”
“Mr. Van Reypen, I do believe you’re hinting for an invitation to stay here to dinner!”
“Oh, Mrs. Fairfield, how clever you are! How could you possibly guess that, now?”
Nan laughed and hesitated. She liked the young man, but she wasn’t sure that Patty wanted him there. Patty was developing into a somewhat decided young person, and liked to make her own plans. And Nan well knew that Patty was the real magnet that drew Mr. Van Reypen so often to the house.
“What do you think?” she said, as the girl came into the room; “this plain-spoken young man is giving me to understand that, if he were urged, he would dine here to-night.”
“Of course, it would require a great deal of most insistent urging,” put in Philip.
“Don’t let’s urge him,” said Patty, but the merry smile she flashed at the young man belied her words.
“If you smile like that, I’ll do the urging myself,” he cried. “Please, Mrs. Fairfield, do let me stay; I’ll be as good as gold.”
“What say you, Patty?” asked Nan.
“He may stay,” rejoined Patty, “if he’ll help me with my work on those puzzles.”
“Puzzles? Well, I just guess I will! I’ll do them all for you. Where’s your slate and pencil?”
“Oh, not yet!” laughed Patty. “We won’t do those until after dinner.”
“Why do you do them at all?” asked Nan; “and what are they, anyway?”
“I’ll tell you,” began Patty; “no, I won’t, either. At least, not now. It’s a grand project, – a really great scheme. And I’ll unfold it at dinner, then father can hear about it, too.”
So, later, when the quartette were seated around the dinner table, Patty announced that she would tell of her great project.
“You see,” she began, “it’s a sort of advertisement for a big motor-car company.”
“Don’t try to float a motor-car company, Patty,” advised her father; “it’s too big a project for a young girl.”
“I’m not going to do that, Daddy Fairfield; but I begin to think that what I am going to do is almost as hard. You see, this big company has issued a book of a hundred puzzles. Now, whoever guesses all those puzzles correctly will get the prize. And, – the prize is a lovely electric runabout. And I want it!”
“Hevings! hevings!” murmured Mr. Van Reypen. “She wants an Electric Runabout! Why, Infant, you’ll break your blessed neck!”
“Indeed, I won’t! I guess I’ve brains enough to run an electric car! If I guess those puzzles, that’ll prove it. They’re fearfully hard! Listen to this one. ‘When did London begin with an L and end with an E?’”
“That is hard,” said Nan. “It must be some foreign name for London. But Londres won’t do.”
“No,” said Patty, “I thought of that. I expect it’s some old Anglo-Saxon or Hardicanute name.”
“I expect it’s rubbish,” said her father. “Patty, don’t begin on these things. You’ll wear yourself out. I know how you hammer at anything, once you begin it, and you’ll be sitting up nights with these foolish questions until you’re really ill.”
“Oh, no, I won’t, father. And beside, Mr. Van Reypen is going to help me, lots.”
“Angel Child,” said Philip, looking at her with a patronising air, “if all your questions are as easy as that one you just quoted, your task is already accomplished.”
“Why, do you know the answer?” cried Patty. “Oh, tell it to me! I’ve puzzled so hard over it!”
“It’s a quibble, of course, – a sort of catch, do you see? And the answer is that London always began with an L, and End always began with an E.”
“Oh,” said Patty, catching the point at once, “I should have known that! I pride myself on guessing those catch questions.”
“You were clever to guess it so quickly, Mr. Van Reypen,” said Mr. Fairfield; “or have you heard it before?”
“Not exactly in that form, no. But so many quibbles are built like that.”
“They are,” agreed Patty; “I ought to have known it. Well, I rather think there are some others you won’t guess so easily.”
“How many have you done?” asked Nan.
“I’ve done about twenty-five out of the hundred. Some were dead easy, and some I had to work on like the mischief.”
“But, Patty,” began her father, “what could you do with a motor car of your own? You don’t want it.”
“Indeed, I do! Why, I’ll have perfectly elegant times scooting around by myself.”
“But you can’t go by yourself in the New York streets! I won’t allow it.”
“No, daddy dear, not here in the city, perhaps. But, if we go away for the summer to some nice country place, where there’s nothing in the road but cows, then I could run it alone. Or with some nice girl by my side.”
“Or with some nice boy by your side,” put in Philip. “I’m an awfully nice boy, – they all say.”
“If you help me win it, I’ll give you a ride in it,” said Patty. “But I haven’t won it yet.”
“No, and you won’t,” said her father. “Those contests are just planned for an advertisement. The prize goes to the daughter of the chief director.”
“Oh, Father Fairfield! What a mean thing to say! You don’t know that that’s so at all. Now, I believe in their honesty.”
“So do I,” said Nan. “That isn’t like you, Fred, to express such an unfounded suspicion.”
“Well, perhaps I spoke too hastily. But still, Patty, I don’t think you want the thing. If you get it, I’ll sell it for you, and give you the money.”
“No, sir-ee! I want it for itself alone. Oh, father, think what fun I’d have spinning around the country! Wouldn’t we, Nan?”
“Yes, indeed! I think it would be great fun. And they say those electrics are easy to manage.”
“Pooh! as easy as pie,” declared Patty. “And, anyway, I ran a big touring car once, in France. A big gasoline one. An electric is nothing to that.”
“What do you do to make it go?” asked her