“Of course he couldn’t help it.”  Patricia assented.  “I had to see you, and some one had to show me where you lived.  But you may go now if you want to, Riley.”

“We had better come inside and talk it over—­if we can get in,” Allen suggested, opening the door again, and pushing the things one side.

“Ah, Misther Allen—­all ye’er clothes will be spiled, kickin’ ’round like this.  Shall I fold ’em up an’ put ’em in th’ thrunks fer ye, sor?”

Riley was in his element again, and Allen grasped at the old man’s offer with an eagerness not assumed.

“That’s just the thing,” he said.  “You pack the trunk, Riley, while Lady Pat and I sit on the window-seat and have a little visit.”

“Here are my things, too, Riley.”  Patricia handed the old man her satchel and book.  “Perhaps you’d better pack those on top.”

“Why should I pack thim in Misther Allen’s thrunk?” he demanded.

“Because we’re going away to be married,” she announced, grandly.  “You are the first one in the family to know it, and you mustn’t tell.”

Riley started to speak, but a signal from Allen silenced him; so he continued his work, bringing order out of chaos so quickly that he won instant admiration.

“Now, look here, Lady Pat,” said Allen, kindly, as the child sat on her heels in front of him on the window-seat, “we must talk this matter over very carefully.”

“Yes, Sir Launcelot,” Patricia assented, expectantly.

“In the first place, I have made your father very angry with me.”

“Were you a naughty boy?”

“He thinks so, and he must be right; but it wouldn’t do to make him any more angry by taking you away without his permission.  You see that, don’t you?”

“But they wouldn’t blame you—­they’d blame me,” the child persisted.  “Alice would frown at me and say ‘Pa-tri-ci-a.’  Papa would be severe and say, ‘I shall have to ask mamma Eleanor to punish you,’ and mamma Eleanor would look sad and say, ‘Oh, my darling,’ But she’d forget all about it as soon as I kissed her.”

“No; they would blame me, because I’m older—­and, besides, a true knight could never stand by and see his Lady Fair blamed, could he?  The only thing is for me to go away, and for you to go back home with Riley, and then, later, for me to storm the castle and carry you off.”

“But if you did that, you might carry off Alice instead of me,” she objected.

“That’s so,” Allen assented, laughing, “unless she hurries up and gets married.  That was our agreement, Lady Pat—­as long as Alice is free, we can’t make any plans for ourselves.”

“Wouldn’t it be grand to have you storm the castle and carry me off!” Patricia was quite taken by the idea.  “Anyhow, next to Alice, you love me best, don’t you, Sir Launcelot?”

“I certainly do,” Allen said, truthfully.  “Now, you’ll go home with Riley and wait to see what happens, won’t you?”