Free The Tryst (Annotated) (Grace Livingston Hill Book) by Grace Livingston Hill Page B

She drew a deep sigh and her eyes grew dreamy over memories of walks and rides and picnics, and. John Treeves's home, the little white cottage at the end of the village street, which would always seem to her the personification of the word Home; the strong, sweet, womanly, merry mother who had taken her into her arms and kissed her for the sake of her own mother. That kiss and the gentle loving tones that had told her of Mrs. Treevee's childish friendship for Patricia's girl-mother, had served to soften many a harsh word and cold action during the years, because she could always remember little beautiful loving things that Mrs. Treeves had told her about her mother as a child, and somehow she had succeeded in putting the halo of that childhood about the haughty head of the mother who had never shown her the deep love she had always craved. 
    The sun had slipped out of sight now into the deep blue heart of the pines, and the crimson streak was fading from the ether above. Patty drew another soft little sobbing sigh, scarcely audible, and a tear unbidden slipped out the fringes and dashed silently down her cheek. Then startlingly grim from out the shadows of the room where she had supposed her patient to be peacefully sleeping, came a voice, very much awake indeed: 
    “How long have you known that young man?” 

Chapter 7
    Patty, with a gasp, emerged hastily from her retrospection and dashed away the tears from her hot cheeks. 
    “I -- I beg your pardon?” she tried to say briskly, trying not to seem in a panic, “I thought you were asleep, Miss Cole – Madam!” 
    “Don't MADAM me!” was the sharp retort. “I asked you how long you had known that young man. I know you thought I was asleep. You thought I didn't see down there in the office, too, but I’m not blind if I am rheumatic, and I've been young once if I am an old maid. I want to know how long you have known him." 
    “Why -- I --” began Patty with her heart going like a trip-hammer playing trills, “I'm not sure that I know him at all. He looked a little like someone I met five years ago when I was visiting friends in New York state, but I wasn't sure.” She was breathing more freely now. This sounded perfectly reasonable, and was entirely true. 
    “Well, he's the same one, and you know him, and he knows you, all right. I tell you I'm not blind. But what I want to know is how long and how well you know him!” 
    There was a touch of dictatorial sharpness in the voice that put Patricia a bit on her dignity. 
    "His mother and my mother were school friends. We played around together one summer when we were growing up. That is all," said Patty, coolly. 
    “There, there! Now child, don't you go to getting uppish about it. You think it's none of my business, but you must remember that you were an utter stranger to me until yesterday, and that you're young and pretty; and whether you think I have the right or not, it's my moral responsibility to keep an eye on you, and you mustn't resent it.” 
    “I know, Miss Cole,” said Patty quietly yet with a tiny bit of aloofness in her tone,” but you saw that I turned away without recognizing that young man. Wasn't that sufficient?” 
    “H'm! That was just the trouble. He looked to me like a perfectly good young man, and why didn't you recognize him?”
    Patty stiffened and was glad that it was dark in the room. There was something in the arrogant old woman's voice that made her want to both laugh and cry. 
    “I am not in a position to recognize anybody at present," said Patty. 
    "Position fiddlesticks!" said the old lady. "That young man would only honor you the more if he thought you were earning your living! I can't be mistaken in a face like that!" 
    Patty laughed outright. 
    “Oh, indeed, you misunderstand me,” she said, “I wasn't worried about my position as earning my own living. But I told you in the beginning that there were reasons why it had become necessary for me, and none of my