Part 61 (1/2)

Paddy shook her head.

”I can't tell you anything, Eily,” she answered. ”Please don't ask me.”

And Eileen had to give in.

Jack tried when he came for a flying visit about wall-papers and paint and things, and it was then for the first time that they learnt of Paddy's unlooked-for decision.

”What colour is your room to be, Paddy?” he asked. ”I am waiting your orders.”

”You are very good,” a little uncomfortably, ”but I'm not coming to live at The Ghan House.”

”Not coming to live at The Ghan House!” as if he could not believe his own ears, while Eileen and her mother looked up in amazement.

Paddy had to brace herself with the utmost determination.

”I have thought it all over carefully,” she said, ”and I have decided to stay in London. I have developed a very independent spirit of late, somehow,” with a little smile, ”and I mean to stick to my post.”

”But, my dear child--” began Mrs Adair in great distress, while Jack threw a newspaper at her head and said:

”Don't talk rubbish, Paddy.”

Eileen looked dumbfounded.

”It is not rubbish,” Paddy went on bravely, ”and nothing you can say will alter me. I have spoken to uncle about it, and he is going to let me live with them and pay something.” She paused a moment, drawing a pattern on the tablecloth. ”He does not want me to pay,” she went on, ”he says he will be only too glad to have me, but I would like to feel perfectly independent. He is lonely sometimes, and he always wanted a daughter.”

A mistiness crossed her eyes, and she smiled a little crooked smile as she added:

”Daddy always wanted a son, and I did my best. He is daddy's brother, and he wants a daughter--I am going to do my best again. I never seem to quite 'get there,' do If--I am evidently destined only to s.h.i.+ne as a subst.i.tute--to be only the-next-best-thing.”

”But, Paddy,” coming behind her and leaning over the table with his arm across her shoulders, ”you hate London so,” coaxed Jack. ”How are Eileen and I to be perfectly happy, thinking of you pining for fresh air here?”

”You must not think--it would only be silly--you will have each other and,”--there was a little catch in her voice--”mother.”

Mrs Adair looked up quickly; hitherto she had not spoken.

”No, Paddy,” she said, ”I shall stay with you. I do not mind London at all now I have got used to it, and I could not leave you behind alone.

I should not be happy at Omeath without you.”

But Paddy would not hear of it, and after a long discussion it was finally decided that she should remain with her uncle for six months.

Having gained her point, she quickly drew their attention back to the wall-papers, which were eagerly discussed in their turn, amid the usual amount of nonsense and twitting on her part and Jack's.

The next day she told her uncle that she had won her point, and was coming to them, at any rate for the present. Something like tears instantly dimmed the kindly doctor's eyes; he had grown more than fond of his young dispenser and niece.

”It will be as good as having a daughter,” he said, a little huskily.

Paddy laughed. ”It is my particular _forte_,” she said, ”to be the-next-best-thing.”

Her aunt was no less pleased.

”Really, my dear,” she remarked, folding her hands contentedly upon her ample front, ”I shall be very pleased to have you. I don't like girls, as a rule--they're all so flighty and flirty, and fond of gew-gaws and things, but you are somehow different. You are not as interested in the church guilds and parish meetings as I could wish, and you are a little wanting in respect to poor Mr d.i.c.kinson,” naming the meek young curate; ”but you are young yet, and by and by you will see how empty and shallow and vain are all amus.e.m.e.nts compared with church work and the beautiful church services.”