[Illustration: He was fairly content with what he saw in her face. ]

The Wishing-Ring Man

By MARGARET WIDDEMER

TO THE MEMORY OF MY OWN GRANDFATHER

E. S. W. 

ONE OF THE DEAREST, BEST AND KINDLIEST OF MEN

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I. JOY IN AMBER SATIN

 II. BY GRACE OF THE WISHING RING

 III. PHYLLIS RIDES THROUGH

 IV. THE RESCUE OF THE PRINCESS

 V. THE SHADOW OF GAIL

 VI. ROSE GARDENS AND MEN

 VII. A VERY CHARMING GENTLEMAN

 VIII. A FOUNTAIN IN FAIRYLAND

 IX. THE TANGLED WEB WE WEAVE

 X. CLARENCE SWOOPS DOWN

 XI. PIRATE COUSINS TO THE RESCUE

 XII. DINNER FOR FIVE

 XIII. THE SERIOUS BUSINESS OF "IOLANTHE"

 XIV. THE SLIGHTLY SURPRISING CLARENCE

 XV. THE GIFT OF THE RING

CHAPTER ONE

JOY IN AMBER SATIN

Joy Havenith had no business at all to be curled up on the backstairs under Great-Grand-Aunt Lucilla's picture. She ought to havebeen sliding sweetly up and down the long double parlors withteacups and cake, and she knew it. But she just didn't care. 

As a matter of fact, Aunt Lucilla and the other ancestors ought tohave been in the parlors, too; but Grandfather had ordaineddifferently. He had gobbled the parlor walls for his autographedphotograph collection, and Grandmother, long before Joy was born ororphaned, had sorrowfully hung her ancestors-in-law out in the long, narrow hall, where they were a tight fit. Grandfather was one of thelast survivors of the old school of American poetry. He was tall andslender, and very gentle and nice, but he always had things the wayhe said he wanted them, and he preferred his autographed friends tohis family portraits. 

"It's rather a good thing it's so dark out here, Aunt Lucilla, " saidJoy to the smiling Colonial lady in the dark corner above her. "Youmayn't much like being where people can't see you--but think howyou'd feel, up garret!"

Aunt Lucilla Havenith, red of lip, flashing of eye, blue and silverof gown, laughed on down at her great-grand-niece, who was holding asurreptitious little red candle up to talk to her. Aunt Lucilla, from all accounts, had had too excellent a time in her life to minda little thing like being put in a back hall afterwards. She hadbeen a belle from her fifteenth year, eloped with her true-love atsixteen, and gone on being a belle all the rest of her life, in theintervals of three husbands and ever so many children. She hadmanaged everything and everybody she came across gaily all her life;she had been proposed to by practically the whole Society of theCincinnati; and had died at eighty-three, a power and a charmer tothe last. 

"I don't think you need to mind dark corners one bit, " said Joy, tipping the candle so that the red wax dribbled down on her slimfingers. "If Rochambeau and Lafayette and all the rest of the peoplein the history-books had made a fuss over _me_--"

Joy sat down on the stairs again, on a cushion. Nobody used the backstairs, fine curly ones that they were, and Joy's cushion, which shehad put there on purpose to be mournful on a fortnight before, wasuntouched since last time. 

Joy Havenith was nineteen, but you never would have known it. Shehad been told so often by her grandparents that she was only a childyet, that she quite believed it. No, not quite--but enough to makeher a little shy, and have almost the expression and manner still ofa little girl. She had big, black-lashed, kitten-blue eyes, scarletlips, and two ropes of bronze hair that she wanted very badly to putup. It sounds like rather an exciting personality, but Joy was soyoung and so shy and so obedient that she was only like a rathersmall Blessed Damozel, or some other not-grown-up Rossetti person. She knew it well, because she had been told so frequently, and shedidn't care about it at all. She leaned her head against the framecontaining Great-Grandfather John Havenith at twenty, and consideredAunt Lucilla afresh. 

"_All_ the people in the history-books!" she said again softly, but none the less regretfully. 

Ordinarily you couldn't ask for a dearer, sweeter child than Joy, slipping noiselessly up and down the old house in the city, beingjust as good as she knew how. She had always been told that she mustbe good and obedient and affectionate, and it had never been anytrouble to her, because she was naturally that way. She lived allalone with Grandfather and Grandmother and Elizabeth the cook, anddid just what Grandfather told her to. So did everybody else. Itwasn't that he was cross, or anything like that. He was morecharming than most people. But he was a Personage; and if you livewith a Personage your own personality gets a bit pushed into thebackground, without its being anybody's fault at all. 

Joy had been perfectly happy, as far as she knew, until two weeksbefore. You can be, you know, if no one tells you you aren't, especially when you're young. 

Grandfather had Afternoons every two weeks, when he sat at the endof the parlors in a big chair and received his admirers. In hisyouth he had looked like Shelley, and he was still tall and slenderand clean-shaven, with straight, abundant white hair, and blackbrows and lashes like Joy's. And he had what is called immensepersonal charm, and loved his little grand-daughter devotedly. Hesimply didn't know she was grown up. For the matter of that, neitherdid Joy herself until.... 

You see, it had been very much like life in a fairy-book. She neverremembered anything but the old house and the old people, andeverybody literary coming and going and telling her how wonderfulGrandfather was: and nothing that concerned _her_ very closely, at all. She scarcely knew how to treat anybody, except respectfully, because they had always all been so much older than she was. It waslike living in an enchanted tower. Enchanted towers are verypleasant places, because you can have all sorts of dreams in them. Joy hadn't missed anything much, till the thing that happened at thereception. 

Grandfather, in his frock-coat and stock, his white fluffy hairflying, had been moving up and down the autographed parlors with hisusual dominant charm. Little gray Grandmother, in her gathered, fichued black silk, was putting lemon or cream in teacups, as peopleshould prefer. Joy had been walking up and down by Grandfather, ashe liked to have her on reception days. They dressed her, on thesedays, in lovely strange frocks, cut medieval fashion, with the ropesof bronze-gold hair trailing down either side of her vividlycolored, incongruously dreamy little face. According to the way Joyfigured it out, Grandfather had her dress that way, the better towrite poetry about her. She didn't mind. The truth was, she lived sofar inside herself that she didn't care. It was so much easier to doquickly what you were told, and then go back to the place where youplayed by yourself--a fairy country. 

This particular reception day was a damp, heavily hot afternoon inearly September. There weren't many people back in the city yet, butGrandfather always began his "days" as early as he could. He wasfond of having people around him. And even on this very sticky daypeople did come. Only two of them were young. 

Joy didn't know any young people. Some day she intended to. In herdream-world she had friends who were young and gay and lovely andtalked to her, and to whom she talked back gaily; but it neveroccurred to her to expect anything like that to really happen rightnow. The young men and young girls she sometimes crossed she admiredquite happily and remotely, as if they were people from another planet. 

It was so that she watched these two people that were young. Sheliked watching them so much that presently she escaped from Grandfather, and slid behind the window-curtains, to be closer to them. 

"They feel so lovely and happy, " said Joy, warming her little handsat their happiness. 

They were lovers; anybody could see that. And they weren't poets oranything of the sort; you could see that, too. _She_ was in alittle trim white pongee street suit, with a close little hat abovea little rosy, powdered, cheerful face. _He_ had rather heavyshoulders and a shock of carefully brushed straight light hair, andlooked about one year out of Harvard. They didn't at all belong withthe middle-aged roomful. As a matter of fact, _her_ mother knewMrs. Havenith a little, and so they had dashed in here to save hersuit from the rain. They were sitting and smiling at each otheragainst a background of Mark Twain's life-sized head in a broad giltframe. They faced another life-sized head of Browning, alsoautographed, but they liked looking at each other better. 

Joy, from her hiding-place, could feel the current of theirhappiness and youth, and it made her very warm in her soul, andcomfortable. She listened to them quite unashamedly, as she wouldhave to a nice play. 

"She has wonderful hair, hasn't she?" she heard the girl say. 

"Not as lovely as my girl's, " the man answered softly. 

His girl laughed, a little low pleased laugh. "But you can't seemine hanging down that way, like a picture, " she fenced. 

"I'm glad you don't wear it that way, " he insisted. "I like you tolook like a real girl, not a movie star or an advertisement. "

"Do you suppose she likes it?" asked the girl. "I'd go crazy if Ihad to be like that--why, she isn't as old as I am! I suppose theywrite poems about her, though, " she added, as if that might be acompensation. 

"Oh, if _that's_ all--" began the man, and they both laughedhappily, as at a wonderful joke. 

Joy, frozen behind her curtains, heard a little rustle, as if he wastaking her hand, and her protest--

"Oh, Dicky, don't--they'll see us!"

"Not a bit, " said he cheerfully. "They're all looking at dearGrandpapa, the Angora Poet--oldest in captivity to be reading hisown sonnets. Bet you it's about the little girl, poor kid--he seemsto be looking around for her. "

"Sonnets? Oh, let's go; the rain's stopped, " whispered the girl. "You were awfully extravagant this afternoon. Now we're going totake a nice, inexpensive walk up home. "

She heard him protesting a little at that; then they slid outsoftly, while poor Joy sat behind her curtains, moveless andaghast.... Oh, was this what she was like ... To real, happy, gaypeople her own age? And she had liked the girl so, and been soglad she had her lover, and that they loved each other! AndGrandfather.... She had never thought whether he wrote poetry abouther or not. She had just taken it for granted. People had to writeabout something, and it was just as apt to be you as a public crisisor a sunset, or anything else useful for the purpose. But they had_laughed_ about it.... Oh, she did hope it wouldn't be a poemabout her that he was going to read! She felt she couldn't stand it, if it were. She knew that when she was the subject she was expectedto be in sight, as a sort of outward and visible sign. 

"I won't go out into the room!" she said defiantly. "He doesn'texpect the sunsets and public crises to stand up and be looked atwhen he reads about them!"

So she stayed just where she was. As she stayed, incongruously, ajoke out of an old Punch came into her head--not at all an estheticone. It was a picture of a furious woman brandishing a broom, whilethe tips of her husband's boots showed under the bed-foot. Thehusband was saying: "Ye may poke at me and ye may threaten me, butye canna break my manly sperrit. I willna come out fra under the bed!"

Joy laughed a little, even in her sad state of mind, at theremembrance. "I willna come out fra under the bed, either, " shedecided rather shakily, curling her flowing yellow satin closerabout her, and making herself quite flat against the window-frame. She tried to stop her ears and not listen, so she wouldn't knowwhether the poetry was about her or not. But she had fatally sharpears, and Grandfather always practised on her and Grandmother, adoringly silent at the breakfast table. She would know the poemsapart if she only caught a half word.... And it _was_ about her. 

Grandfather's beautiful voice carried as well as it ever had. Nomatter how many fingers you had in how many ears, you heard it justthe same. And the poem's name was, "To Joy in Amber Satin. "

It was doubtless a very lovely poem, and she'd been as pleased asanybody when it had sold to the _Century_ for fifty dollarslast week. But it suddenly came over Joy that she wasn't a crisis, nor yet a sunset, and that people oughtn't to write poetry to theirgranddaughters, and then have them wear the clothes that werewritten about right in the room with the poem. She knew, too, thatas soon as it was over, purry, nice, prettily dressed ladies wouldcome and hunt her out and use admiring adjectives on her. She hadnever minded it before; she had taken it as a well-behaved littledog would; as a curious thing people did, which meant that theywanted to be nice. With this new viewpoint drenching her like coldwater it didn't seem nice a bit. 

She pulled the curtain stealthily apart and peeped out. Everythingseemed fairly all right. Between her and Grandfather, a usefulshelter, spread the massive purple-velvet back of Mrs. Harmsworth-Jones, who always came, and always asked afterwards, "And how is our littleJoy-Flower today?" She was as good as she could be, but she was onemore of the things Joy felt as if she couldn't stand right now. 

She tiptoed very carefully indeed past Mrs. Harmsworth-Jones, andpast Grandfather's bronze bust at twenty-five, and almost past theframed autograph letter of Whittier, on the easel. That was as faras she got, because there was a nail sticking out at the side of theWhittier frame, and it caught her by one of the straps that held hersatin panels together across the violet chiffon sidepieces. Theframed letter came down with a clatter, spoiling the last line ofthe poem forever; and Joy was caught, for of course every one turnedaround to see what the noise was. 

Grandfather, who had great presence of mind, read the last fourlines of the poem over again slowly, directly at Joy, who stood likea wistful little figure out of Fairyland, pressed back against theeasel; her frightened eyes wide, her golden-bronze braids glimmeringin the firelight. It seemed to her that the delivery of those lastfour lines was endless. 

Yet they were done at last, and still Joy stood motionless. Shereally did not know how to run away, because she had never done it. 

Before she moved Grandfather had finished his reading and thepeople, who had been sitting and standing raptly about, began tomove; all fluttering dresses and perfumes, and little laughters, andpleasant little speeches to each other. It was a part of thereception that Joy usually looked forward to happily. She was justpulling herself together for flight when Mrs. Harmsworth-Jones, jingling, purple-upholstered and smiling, bore down on her. 

"How is our dear little Joy-Flower this afternoon?" she asked asinevitably as Fate, patting Joy's slim bare arm with one plump, gloved hand, and beaming. "Oh, dearest child, _do_ you realizethe privilege you have? Think of actually living so close to a poetthat you become a part of his inspiration. Dear little Joy--"

Mrs. Harmsworth-Jones was one of the nicest, kindest, fattest peoplethat ever lived, and furthermore, she had taken Joy, all by herself, to a performance of "Pelleas and Melisande" only the spring before. And though Joy had thought privately that the people sang too longat a time on one note, and wished Melisande was less athletic-looking, she had liked it very much, and felt obliged to the lady ever since. So she really shouldn't have behaved the way she did--if it hadn'tbeen for the lovers, she doubtless wouldn't have. As it was, shebraced herself against the easel. 

"It isn't a privilege a bit, " she said defiantly, out of a clearsky. "It isn't half as much fun as being the kind of girl everybodyelse is. I hate wearing moving-picture clothes" [not even in herexcitement could Joy bring herself to say "movies"] "and I hatenever knowing girls and men my own age, and I hate having poemswritten to me worse than anything at _all_!"

Poor Mrs. Harmsworth-Jones! She hadn't done a thing. Her own girlswent to fashionable schools and attended sub-deb dances by the scoreuntil they came out, which they did at eighteen each like clockwork. She couldn't have been expected to see to it for somebody else'sgirl, too. Her getting the full blast of it was a quite fortuitousaffair, and Joy always felt, looking back afterwards on herexplosion, that it had been hard on the lady--who was frightened byit to the point of silence. It must have been very much as if thesedate full-length of Mr. Shakspere, over in the corner and _not_autographed, had opened its mouth and begun to recite limericks. 

"Why--why!" she said; and that was all she was capable of saying forthe moment. Joy, terrified herself at her deed, turned and fled. 

What happened between Mrs. Jones and Grandfather she never knew, andnever asked. She never halted in her flight till she was safe in herown little eyrie upstairs. 

There she stopped before her dresser mirror, and looked at theflushed, breathless girl in the glass. 

"I wonder, " Joy said aloud, "what really is the difference betweenme and other people?"

She stared into the glass to see if she couldn't find out, leaningher hands down on the dresser-top. But the pretty white-enamel-framedmirror showed her just the same Joy as ever. Her heavy bronze-goldbraids swung forward, and their ends coiled down on the dresser-top. Between them her little pointed face looked straight at her, blue-eyed, red-lipped, and serious. Its owner eyed it perplexedly awhile, then gave up the riddle. 

"If you look like pictures and poetry you _do_, and that's allthere is to it. I suppose living with Grandfather's had an effect onme... I wonder... " Joy still stared steadily into the glass--"Iwonder if having somebody in love with me would make a difference. It's the only thing Grandfather's ever said he was willing to havehappen to me. He's always talking about 'I would give you upwillingly to the first breath of true love.... ' But there's neveranybody comes to his parties you could love with a pair of tongs... I wonder if he _would?_ It would have to be love at firstsight, too, I suppose. He doesn't think much of any other kind oflove.... But I'd be dreadfully frightened of him.... I hope he'dhave blond curly hair!"

She lifted herself from her leaning position, and went and curled upon the side of the bed, the better to think. 

"There's no use wondering about a lover, " she decided. "Lovers_never_ come to hear Grandfather read, not unless they come inpairs to get out of the rain, like the animals in the ark.... AnywayI don't think I'd want the one today, even if he hadn't been a pair. But a nice fresh one that didn't belong to anybody else.... "

Grandmother, released at last from finding out what people wanted intheir tea, and giving it to them, hurried into the room at thispoint, and was very much relieved to find Joy perfectly well to allappearances, and sitting quietly on the side of the bed gazing offinto space. 

"Darling, were you ill?" she panted, sitting down by her. "Yourgrandfather was quite disturbed over it, and I was terriblyfrightened. We knew something must have happened. What was it, lambie? Where do you feel badly?"

Joy looked away from the wall, at her grandmother's kind, anxious, wrinkled little face under the lace lappets. Grandfather likedGrandmother to wear caps, so she did it; also fichus andfull-skirted silks, whether such were in fashion or no. 

"I didn't feel ill one bit, " explained Joy deliberately. "Only I'mtired of being a decoration. I want to be like other people... Idon't want to wear any more clothes like paintings, or ever have anymore poetry written to me. I--oh, Grandmother, everything's going onand going on, and none of it's happening to _me!_" She looked ather grandmother appealingly. "And it feels as if it wouldn't ever!"

But Grandmother didn't seem to understand a bit. And yet she musthave been young once--wasn't there that poem of Grandfather's, "ToMyrtilla at Seventeen, " to prove it? The one beginning "Sweetheart, whose shadowed hair!" Why, he must have--yes, he spoke of it in thepoem--Grandfather must have held Grandmother's hand, like theDicky-lover today, and even kissed her because he wanted to, notbecause it was nine in the morning or ten at night. Those were thetimes he kissed her now. Of one thing Joy was certain, Grandmotherhad never told Grandfather he must stop. She wouldn't have dared. 

"Dear, would you like a hot-water bottle, and your supper in bed?"inquired Grandmother, breaking in on these meditations.... Oh, itwas a long time since Grandmother had been Myrtilla at seventeen!Joy looked at her wistfully once more. 

"No, thank you, Grandmother, " she said decidedly. "I feel very well, thank you. I'll be down to supper as soon as I've changed my frock. "

She felt as if getting off the actual clothes that were in the poemwould be escaping from it a little, and perhaps drawing a littlenearer the having of real things happen to her. Grandmother, nearlyreassured, patted Joy's little slim hand with her own littlewrinkled one, and trotted downstairs to tell Grandfather happilythat Joy would soon be down. 

Joy, left alone, pulled off the amber robe, and stood before thewardrobe in her silk slip, pushing along the hangers to try and findsomething practical. It was pretty hard. All her gowns were lovelyloose or draped or girdled things: you could have costumed the wholecast of two Maeterlinck plays from just those hangers. She was verytired, suddenly, of all of them. At last she found a green dressthat was the delight of her life, even if it was picturesque, because it was such a nice, cheerful color, put it on, and wentdown. She had tried to fasten her hair up as the lover-girl's hadbeen fastened, but hers was so curly and heavy and alive and longthat it couldn't be done. She strapped it in desperation around herhead, wished she had some powder, and dashed down the long flightsof stairs just in time to save herself from a second summons. Shewasn't quite satisfied with her own general effect, but it would dofor a beginning. 

So, dreamer as she still was, nevertheless the only thing alight andalive in the old house, she ran down the staircases, past thestatues that stood severely in the niches at the head of eachflight, down finally to the basement dining-room where the three oldpeople, her grandfather and grandmother and old Elizabeth, werewaiting for her. 

They sat at either end of the old mahogany table--that had beenLucilla Havenith's, too--with supper, plus the sandwiches left overfrom the tea, waiting untouched till Joy should come. By the way allthree stopped short when she came in, Joy was sure they had beenwondering what was the matter with her. She sank into her own chair, and took one of the walnut sandwiches which had been spared by thereception people. She was still hungry, and proceeded to eat it, atwhich Mrs. And Mr. Havenith looked happier. 

"You see, Alton, she has an appetite, " said Grandmother thankfully. 

"Yes, I am glad to see she has, " answered Grandfather, as if thecircumstance was gratifying to him also. "I am very much relieved. "

Joy felt guilty. When your grandparents were as fond as all that ofyou, you really hadn't any right to feel as if you wanted anythingelse. She straightened up and smiled gallantly at them, and tookanother sandwich by way of proving her health. 

"I think I'm all right, " she said. 

"You were overtired, " said Grandmother solicitously--Grandmother, who had cut all the sandwiches, which Joy had only buttered! "Theday's been oppressive. "

So she passed Joy some more of the walnut sandwiches, and smiled tosee that they were being eaten. 

"But I am not satisfied, yet, " said Grandfather. If Grandfather hadonly let well enough--and young girls' whimsies--alone, Joy wouldn'thave been tempted. "What made you rush out that way, Joy--just as Iwas finishing the last stanza of the lyric, 'To Joy in Amber Satin, 'too? You couldn't have chosen a worse possible moment. You nearlyspoiled the effect. "

Joy threw her head back defiantly. She knew that if Grandmotherdidn't understand her appeal, certainly Grandfather wouldn't. 

"Grandfather, " she said, "do you remember the anecdote you always tellto small groups of people, the one about the farmer who used to meetyour friend, James Russell Lowell, on his afternoon walk every day, and say, 'Waal, Mr. Lowell, had a poem yet today?' _I_ had a poem!"

It was a most amazing fish story. Joy hadn't had any such thing as apoem: nothing at all but a fit of rebellion. But if she wanted tocheck her grandfather's inquiries she had taken the most perfect wayknown to civilization. He couldn't possibly blame her for bolting ifthe poem had to be put down. Nor even for being impolite to Mrs. Harmsworth-Jones. 

"You always say, 'The Muse must out, '" continued Joy defiantly. "Orwould you rather I didn't have any Muse?"

There was only one thing for Grandfather to say, and he said it. 

"My dear, if you are really intending to do serious work along thatline nothing should prevent you. I quite understand. "

Grandmother looked over at her little girl with a new respect--andperhaps a new apprehension. One poet in a family is supposed to beenough, as a rule. And Joy had always been such a good, dear childto manage. 

So no more was said. But Joy wondered if she hadn't let herself infor something dreadful. Grandfather would certainly expect to seethat poem some day!

Nothing more was said about it for the two weeks that led toGrandfather's next Afternoon. Joy was delighted to find that herMuse wasn't asked for, and her grandparents may have been ratherpleased at her continuing to behave as she always had, instead ofsaying curious things about wanting to be like other people. Shecontinued to wear her picture-frocks and do as she was told. Her ownfeelings were that she had been naughty, but that she was ratherglad of it. 

And so it was that when the reception day came around again, Joyhelped with the sandwiches and sliced the lemons and piled up thelittle cakes and dressed herself prettily--and then went and hid atthe foot of the back stairs, with Aunt Lucilla for a companion. 

"I hope I shall behave if somebody finds me, and tells me what aprivilege it is to be me, " said Joy; "but I doubt it. Because itisn't. It isn't one bit. "

"What isn't?" demanded a man's voice interestedly. 

CHAPTER TWO

BY GRACE OF THE WISHING RING

Joy turned her head to look. She was quite sure that the speakercouldn't see her very well, but she could see him, or the top ofhim, perfectly, because he was standing in the crack of a door thatgave on to the back hall; a door few people remembered existed, as apicture hung on it, and it gave no impression of ever being used. Hewas young and broad-shouldered and sure-looking, little as she couldsee of him. She could see his face as far down as the eyes, and thatwas all. They were pleasant, steel-colored eyes, very amused anddirect, and his hair, in the light of the old-fashioned chandelierbehind him, glittered, fair and a little curlier than he evidentlyapproved of. 

He slipped entirely through the door; at the same moment Joy blewout the candle she had been holding up to Aunt Lucilla. Then shelaughed, a little shy, pretty laugh. She wished she could light itagain, to look at him, but she remembered that if she did that hemight think she _did_ want to look at him. 

"I'm so glad you've come!" she almost said. He seemed like some oneshe had been waiting for a long while, some way, instead of the usualstranger you had to get used to. There was such a breath of freshnessand courage and cheer in just the few words he had spoken and the littlelaugh they were borne on, that Joy felt irrationally what a nice worldit was. Then she remembered to reply to what he had said. 

"It isn't a privilege, being me, " she explained from her shadows. 

He looked over to where her voice came from, but there wasn'tanything visible except a little dark heap on the last three stairs. 

"I could tell better if I could see you, " he stated pleasantly. "Don't you want to take the hint?"

But Joy, mindful of the hanging braids that would certainly make himthink she was a little girl, would not take it at all. She snuggledagainst the wall. 

"Oh, you can see me any time, " she said carelessly, "but you canscarcely ever get to talk to me. At least, I heard somebody say solast month. "

She felt quite like somebody else, a gay, teasing, careless sort ofreal girl, talking to him here in the dark. She was sure shewouldn't if the lights were on. She could talk to him as if he weresome one out of a book or a story, so long as he didn't know shelooked like a book-person or a play-person herself. 

"Well, anyway, do let me stay here, " he begged, doing it. "For thelast hour I haven't felt as if it was much of a privilege to be me, either. Do you know that feeling of terrible personal unworthinessyou get at a party where everybody knows everybody else and nobodyknows you? I feel like precisely the kind of long, wiggly worm thelittle boy ate. "

Joy felt very sorry for him; because if she didn't know that feelingshe knew one to match it; having everybody know her and nobody thinkof playing with her.... This man was playing with her for a minute, anyway. 

"And I'll always have him to remember, " she thought happily, "evenwhen I'm an old, old lady, writing reminiscences of Grandfather, theway they all say I should ... " She went off into a little daydreamof writing all this down in her reminiscences, and having him--old, too, then--write back to her and say that he, also, had alwaysremembered the time happily, and wondered who she was.... Then sheanswered him. 

"You know me, anyway--don't say you know no one, " she told him. "Anyway, I'm glad you're talking to me. I'm Joy. "

He laughed again, leaning against the door-frame in the thread of light. 

"Then you're something I've been looking for a long time, " he said. "I've had friends and success, and good times--but I've never foundJoy till now. "

She knew, of course, that he was just being pleasant about her name, as people were sometimes. But it sounded very lovely to remember. 

"I'm Alton Havenith's granddaughter, " she explained sedately. And, with a sudden desire that he should know the worst, she added, "I'mthe one he writes poetry to. "

He must have caught a note of regret in her voice--oh, he was a verywonderful person! for what he said wasn't a bit what Joy expectedeven him to say--the "How lovely for you!" that she was braced for. 

"Why, you poor kiddie!" said he, "and you ought to be playing tag ortennis or something. I can't see much of you, except one braid thatthe light's on; but you're just a little thing, aren't you?"

Joy did not answer. She looked up at him, as the crack of lightwidened behind him, and showed him clearly for a moment. He was sovery handsome, standing there with his brows contracted in a littlefrown over his pleasant gray eyes, that Joy felt her heart do aqueer thing, as if it turned over. 

He came a little nearer her, and sat down on the floor, below her, quite naturally. 

"And you're awfully lonesome, and you wish something would happen?"said his kind voice. It was a lovely voice, Joy thought. It wasauthoritative, yet with a little caressing note in it, as if hewould look after you very carefully--and you would love it. 

"How did you know?" she asked. 

"Oh, I just could tell, " he said, and it seemed a perfectly clearexplanation. "Well, don't forget that there's lots of time yet. Youjust keep on believing things _will_ happen--don't lose heart--andmaybe they will. "

Somehow, the way he said it, Joy was sure they would. 

"Like a wishing ring?" she asked eagerly. 

He laughed. 

"You _are_ a kiddie. Why, yes, like a wishing ring, if you like. "

Before Joy could answer there came a brisk voice from the door. 

"Oh, this is where you've hidden! You may be decorative, Jack, butas an escort I've known nephews more useful. "

Joy looked up and saw a tiny elderly lady, quite a new one, in thedoorway. 

"Good-by, Joy, " he said in too low a voice for the old lady to hear. "I'm glad we've met--I can't say I'm glad to have seen you, becauseI haven't, you know. But thanks for a human five minutes--and keephoping. "

He sprang lightly to his feet, opened the door, shut the door--wasgone, and Joy was alone in the dark again. 

She smiled up at Aunt Lucilla unseeingly. 

"Not even Lafayette could have been as kind as that, " she saidproudly, and leaned happily against the wall again. 

"Why, Joy, dear, don't you want to come in and see the people?"Grandmother was asking her solicitously, bending over her. "Youaren't sick again, are you?"

Joy sprang up with a little laugh. 

"Not a bit, " she assured her. "I'm especially all right. Why, yes--I'll come in if you want me, of course. The people don't matter. "

She threaded her way, behind Grandmother, up and down the parlorsfor the next hour, quite happy. She'd had such a wonderful fiveminutes in the back hall--why, what difference did it make if Mr. James Arthur Gosport captured her and told her about his ideas onuniversal brotherhood? She didn't have to listen specially, becauseshe knew just what he was going to tell: the story about how he wentout from his parlor-car and hunted through the day-coach to find abrake-man, on purpose to tell him how fond he was of him. And howthe brakeman's eyes filled up with tears at being loved, and how Mr. Gosport had to hurry back to his Pullman in order not to go topieces himself. 

When Mr. Gosport told this tale--it was one he used in his lectures, and it always went splendidly--Joy usually had to keep herself fromwondering why he didn't go to pieces anyhow; he was so long andloosely built you'd think he was merely pinned together. But thisafternoon she smiled at him so brightly that he liked the way hetold the story better than ever. She was really thinking--

"The man she called Jack is built ever so much better than Mr. Gosport is. _He_ wouldn't just cry over a brakeman. He'd givehim some money or.... "

"It is very wonderful to feel that we are all brothers, and that solittle a thing as bringing it home to a train-hand could move him soprofoundly, " finished Mr. Gosport, cheered by the success of hisanecdote. "I make it a point never to neglect such little things--"

He was left with a period in mid-air, for Joy, with a flurry ofskirts, was running toward her grandfather. She didn't care a bitwhether men were all brothers or second cousins; she thought maybeGrandfather would know the real name of the man she had talked to, the one besides Jack. 

"Grandfather, what was the name of the man with curly, fair hair andbig gray eyes, the one who had a little old lady with him?" shedemanded breathlessly, clinging to her grandfather's arm andinterrupting him ruthlessly in the middle of something he was sayingto somebody. 

"I haven't the faintest recollection, " said Grandfather; andGrandmother whispered:

"Come away, dear. The lady with him just asked him whether he wroteunder his own name or a nom-de-plume, and you know how irritatingthat is. "

Joy came obediently away. After all, it didn't matter about Jack'sother name. She knew perfectly well that she should see him again. Everything was bound to go happily.... And till she saw him again, she had him to remember. 

"I have something pleasant to tell you, dear, " said Grandmother, patting the arm she still held. 

"Yes, Grandmother?" she asked, smiling. An hour or so before shewould have been wild to know what it was, but now she was onlyserenely glad that it did exist. She knew perfectly well that thingshad begun to happen. And now they would go on and on and on till thefairy-tale ending came. She knew that, too. Somehow, the shut-outfeeling was all gone, ever since the gray-eyed man had sat at herfeet in the hall and given her the wishing ring. The curtain wasup--or, rather, the door was open into things, just as he'd pushedopen the door from her little dark dream-place, the door that hadalways been there, but nobody'd thought to use. Of course, thingswere going to happen--lovely ones!

"I know I'll like it, " she ended, with a happy little laugh. 

"You seem better already, dear, " said her grandmother happily, andbegan: "We have been talking about your health, and we have decidedthat you need a change, and some young life. So we are going up toan inn in the Maine woods for a month or more. There's boatingthere, and--and games, I understand, and there's a literary colonynear, so there'll be people for your grandfather. He thinks he maygo on holding small Afternoons. It's a cottage inn. "

Joy did not know then what a cottage inn was, but neither did shecare. She clasped her hands happily over the invisible wishing ring. 

As Joy helped Grandmother pack, the next week, she wondered a littleabout clothes. She did not worry now, because she had a convictionthat if she only knew what she wanted, and hoped as Jack had toldher, she could hope things straight to her. There was a gray taffetain a window uptown, together with a big gray chiffon hat, a littlepair of glossy gray strapped slippers, and filmy gray silkstockings. And the hat, instead of having pink roses on it, as you'dthink a normal hat would, by the mercy of Providence had deep yellowroses, exactly the color Joy knew she could wear if she got thechance. The chance, to be sure, was remote. She did not have anallowance, just money when she asked for it; and her fall wardrobehad been bought only a few weeks before. Besides the amber satinthat the poetry was about, there were three other frocks, lovely, artistic, but, Joy was certain, no mortal use for tennis. She didn'tknow how to play tennis, but she intended to, just the same. 

Now, how, with just seven dollars left from your last birthday'sten, could you buy a silk frock, with a hat and shoes and stockingsto match? The answer seemed to be that you couldn't, but Joy did notwant to look at it that way yet. And as she gazed around her bedroomin search of inspiration, her eyes fell on an illuminated sentimentover her bureau. It had been sent Grandfather by a Western admirerwho had done it by hand herself in three colors, not counting thegilt. Grandfather had one already, so Joy had helped herself tothis, because it matched the color of her room. She had never readit before, but, reading it today, it impressed her as excellentadvice to the seeker after fine raiment. 

"Let the farmer, " Mr. Emerson had said, "give his corn, the miner agem, the painter his picture, the poet his poem. " Joy did not stopto wonder (for the Western lady had left it out) on just whatprinciple these contributions were being made. She didn't care. 

"Now, that's the way people earn money, " said she practically, andtried to think what she could do. 

Cook--she could make very good things to eat, but Grandmother wouldhave to know about that, and, besides, it wouldn't be a thing theywould approve of. Sewing--no, you couldn't get much out of that. Shecould recite poetry and be decorative, but she gave a little shiverat the thought. She played and sang as Grandmother had taughther--harp and piano--and spoke Grandmother's French. She couldn't domuch with _them_.... Oh, she was just decorative! And as she preparedto be vexed at the idea, suddenly the motto caught her eye again. 

"It's a perfectly impossible idea from _their_ standpoint, "said Joy, with the light of battle in her eye for almost the firsttime in her life, "but I simply have to have that gray dress. "

She rose and fished the amber satin out of her trunk. She put it on, put her long coat over it, packed her next most picturesque frock ina bag, fastened on a hat, and walked out the front door. 

Just three blocks away lived a dear, elderly mural decorator who wasalways telling her how he wished he had her for a model. She knew hewas making studies now for about a half-mile of walls in a new, richstatehouse somewhere far away. 

She should have been frightened at this, her first adventure, butshe wasn't. She found her heart getting gayer and lighter as she randown the steps with her little bag. It was the kind of a day whenall the policemen and street-sweepers and old women sellingshoe-laces look at you pleasantly, and make cheerful remarks to you. Even the conductor whose street-car she didn't take smiledpleasantly at her after stopping his car by mistake. It was askind-hearted and pleasant-minded a worldful of people as Joy hadever met, and she was singing under her breath with happiness as sheran up the steps leading to Mr. Morrow's studio. There wasn't anyparticular excuse for her being so light-hearted, excepting that thestreet-people had been so friendly minded, and there was such a dearlittle breeze with a country smoke-scent on it, and that somewherein the world was a tall man with fair hair and a kind, authoritativevoice, who had said wonderful things to her--a man she would meetagain some day, when she was charming and worldly and dressed in atailor-made suit. 

Mr. And Mrs. Morrow were artists both; and she found them, blouse-swathed and disheveled, doing charcoal studies in a corner ofthe room apiece. Mrs. Morrow kissed Joy, arching over her so thatthe smudges on her pinafore wouldn't be transferred. Mr. Morrow cameout of his corner and shook hands with her with less care, so thathis smudges did come off on her. Then they both listened to herstory with the same kindness and interest every one else had shownher that morning. 

"I can sit still or stand still as long as ever you want me to, " Joyexplained. "And you said yourself I was decorative, Mr. Morrow; youknow you did!"

"I did, indeed, " Mr. Morrow answered promptly, while Mrs. Morrowasked some more questions. 

Joy answered them. 

"And I would be able to earn enough money for all those things inthe window by Friday?" she ended. 

The Morrows smiled and glanced at each other. Joy did not know, tillsome months later, why they smiled. Then they spoke, nearly together. 

"Yes, indeed, dear child--quite enough!"

Joy was reassured, because, though she didn't know model-prices, shehad been afraid that it wouldn't be. 

Then they gave her some purple draperies--the satins wouldn't do, after all, it appeared--and arranged her in them. And, toanticipate, when Joy went out to that statehouse, the next year, shewas able to pick out her own bronze-gold braids and purple royaltiesall up and down the frieze. 

"By Jove, she _is_ a good model!" said Mr. Morrow after acouple of hours, pulling at his pointed gray beard and speakingenthusiastically in his soft artist-voice. 

"Splendid!" said untidy, handsome Mrs. Morrow, sitting down on themodel-throne to view her own work the better. "But she must be readyto drop, aren't you, Joy, dear? You aren't used to it. "

But Joy shook her head. 

"I'm not tired a bit, " she said truthfully. "I just let go all overand stay that way. It isn't sitting any stiller than I do lots ofdays, when Grandfather has me stay close by him, and keep very stillso he can write. Why, it seems downright sinful, " she went onearnestly, "to earn beautiful gray clothes by just sitting still!But you would have to have somebody, anyway, wouldn't you?"

"Of course we would!" said Mrs. Morrow, picking up her crayon again. "Indeed, we have to have two most of the time. "

They all kept very quiet for a while after that, Joy sitting stillin her robes of state, a slim young Justice presiding over an as yetundrawn Senate, and the Morrows working hard at her. She had beenposing for another half hour, when there came a whirlwind of stepsup the stairs, and the door banged open. 

"Mrs. Morrow, can you let me have some fixative?" called a voice;and Joy moved her eyes cautiously, and saw a pretty, panting girl inthe doorway. She looked like an artist, too, for she had a smudge ofpaint on one vivid cheek, and her black hair was untidily down overher gipsy eyes. 

"Nice model you've got--good skin tints--oh, don't bother about thefixative if you're working. I see it. "

She darted in, past Joy, snatched a bottle half full of somethingyellow, and was out again before any one could speak. 

"I'm hurrying, " she called superfluously back as she fled to thefloor below. "Giving a dance tonight. "

Joy, most mousy-quiet in her chair, mentally registered anotherrequirement toward being the kind of girl she ought to be. Therewere such lots of wonderful things to learn!

She went to the Morrows regularly every day after that, six days inall. She told Grandmother where she was, not what she was doing. Itdidn't occur to her that Grandmother would mind, but she thought itwould be pleasanter to surprise her, and say, "See the lovely dressI earned all myself, posing for the Morrows!"

Meanwhile, Grandmother, pleased at her little girl's brightened faceand general happiness of demeanor, asked no questions. 

"You've been one of the best models we ever had, my dear, " said Mrs. Morrow in her deep, unceremonious voice, when the last day came. "And it occurred to me that you might be too hurried when the lastday came to do your shopping yourself. So I just ran uptown and gotyour pretties for you. "

It was not for a long time that Joy discovered the regular pay of amodel to be fifty cents an hour, and the sum total of her graycostume to have been--it was late for summer styles, so they weremarked down--fifty-three dollars and ninety cents. But Mrs. Morrowhad said to Mr. Morrow, who usually saw things as she did, evenbefore she explained them:

"Alton Havenith would never let that dear little thing have anythingas modish as those clothes. He'd keep her for a living illustrationto his poem-books till he died. And we're making a lot on thatSagawinna Courthouse thing.... And we haven't any daughter. "

And Mr. Morrow, remembering a seven-year-old with blue eyes andyellow hair, who had never grown old enough to ask for French-heeledshoes and picture hats, said only, "That's what I thought, too. "

Joy, blissfully ignorant that she had been given a good deal of apresent, kissed them both ecstatically on receiving a long, largepasteboard box, and almost ran home. She was so eager, indeed, toget upstairs and try on her finery that she quite upset a Neo-Celticpoet who had come to see if Grandfather would write an article abouthim, and was standing on the doorstep on one foot in a dreamymanner. He was rather small, and so not difficult to fall over. Shedid not stop to see if he was injured; she merely recovered herself, grasped her precious boxes more closely and sped on upstairs, thinking how pleasant it was that she was no relation to _him_. To have even fine poetry written about you was bad enough; it mustbe much worse if the poetry was bad, too. 

When she opened her box she found that Mrs. Morrow had seen andbought something else for her; a golden-brown wool jersey sweatersuit, with a little brown cap to match. 

"Oh, how lovely! I can wear them all day, and the gray things allnight--all evening, I mean, " Joy exulted. "And maybe I'll never haveto put on the picture dresses at all!"

She went to sleep that night with the brown suit laid out in its boxacross the foot of her bed, below her feet, and the gray chiffonhat, with its golden yellow roses, on a chair by her, where shecould touch it if she woke in the night and thought she had dreamedit. She said her prayers almost into it; she was so obliged to theLord for the hat and the frocks, and the man who had talked to herin the dark, that she felt as if she ought to take the hat, atleast, and show it to God while she was praying. 

 * * * * *

They had been in Maine long enough for Joy to discover what acottage inn really was. It appeared that the inn itself lived in themiddle, as a sort of parent; and all around it sprang up smallcottages, where you and yours could dwell, and never associate withanybody you didn't want to, except at mealtime, or lingering about alittle afterwards, or at dances. And if you were unusually exclusive(also unusually rich), they took you over your meals, and you neversaw anybody at all. Joy was exceedingly glad that Grandfather wasonly comfortably off, because she liked, best of all the day'sround, the little times before and after dinner when she could siton the porch and watch people, and decide whom she was going to likemost, and whom she was going to be most like. 

She wore her brown woolen frock all day long the first day, changingto the gray silk in the evening--the dear gray silk, all littleglints of embroidery and little falls of chiffon!--and the gray hatwith it. She was waiting for her grandparents to ask her where shegot it, but they were so occupied with getting themselves settled, and seeing that their place and hers at table were sufficiently farfrom the noisier crowds of people not to be a strain onGrandfather's nerves and Joy's, that nothing was said. As a matterof fact, Grandfather thought Grandmother had bought it for her, andGrandmother thought Grandfather had; so each said pretty thingsabout it to the other, without coming straight out, as theircourteous custom with each other was; and the secret was still Joy's. 

By the second day Joy saw that people were beginning to find out whoGrandfather was. So she deliberately ran away. Not badly, nor far;she only had a waiter who seemed to want to be nice to her make herup a little packet of sandwiches, and then she took to the nearestwoods. She quite intended to be back for dinner; she wouldn't havemissed the pageant of sunburned, laughing people streaming in, foranything; not even at the risk of being asked if she, too, wrotepoetry. 

The woods gained, she leaned back against a big oak tree with arested sigh. There might be all the poetry in the world a half mileoff, but here you couldn't see anything but trees and more trees, all autumn reds and browns and yellows, and the two little brownpaths that crossed near where she sat. Her blue, black-lashed eyesrested happily on a great bough of scarlet and yellow maple leaves. 

"I haven't got to say one _word_ about them, " she breathed. "_Nice_ leaves!"

Then she felt vaguely penitent; and in spite of the scenery, beganto think about Grandfather, and therefore poetry, again--so firm aclutch has habit. There in the wonderful tingling air, with the latesunset glimmering a little through the trees, an old poem began tosing itself through her head. For, though she didn't think so, Joy_did_ like poetry. 

It was out of Bryant's "Library of Poetry and Song" that she hadbeen brought up on. The book always opened of itself under Joy'shand to "Poems of Fancy. "

 "... _And I galloped and I galloped on my steed as white as milk, My gown was of the grass-green and my shoes were of the silk, My hair was golden-yellow, and it floated to my shoe, My eyes were like two harebells dipped in little drops of dew_... "

Joy leaned herself back more luxuriously. 

"It _is_ like the enchanted forest, " she breathed. "I canalmost see the Lady in the poem galloping along, and the Green Gnomeleaping up to stop her. The path out there is wide enough--peoplefrom the inn go riding on it. I remember their saying so, that oldlady with the daughter that wriggles too much. "

At this stage in her meditations Joy laughed and ceased wishing. Itwas all very well to desire Green Gnomes and golden-hairedfairy-ladies to gallop down the bridle-path, but the chances werethat if any one did come it would be the old lady and her daughter, on livery horses, and that they would wish to alight and talk toher. City-bred Joy didn't want to talk. She only wanted to be lefthere alone with the trees and the sunset. It was more than time todress for dinner, she knew it well, for the sunset was a little lessbright. But she deliberately stayed where she was, the balladsinging itself dreamily still through her head. 

And then she did hear the click of a horse's hoofs, quite plainly. 

CHAPTER THREE

PHYLLIS RIDES THROUGH

When Joy could see the rider she was relieved to find that he had nointention of stopping. Then--a little too late--she sprang up andran after him; for the horse was a pony, and the rider a little boy, laughing too gleefully not to be in mischief, and lashing the ponyon. He was having a perfectly wonderful time, apparently, and seemedto have a safe seat; but he was certainly much too young to begalloping through the woods at sunset alone. 

Joy fell back panting from her vain chase. 

"Why, he wasn't more than four or five, " she said half-aloud. "What_will_ his mother say?"

But the clatter of the light hoofs, and the delighted shouts of thechild, passed like an apparition, leaving Joy half wondering if shehad imagined it all. Though she was still a little concerned, because somebody was very fond of that mop of flying dusky hair, andthe triumphant little voice that had echoed past her. 

"I can wait here, anyway, " she decided at once. "Some one may comelooking for him, and I can tell which way he went. "

She sat still where she was for a little while longer. She hadnearly made up her mind to follow the child, when, to her greatrelief, she heard another horse coming. 

"I can send whoever it is after him, " she thought, springing up andrunning out to the path. "Oh, wait! Please wait!" she called to theas yet unseen rider. 

The horse was pulled to a walk, and its rider slipped to the ground, coming into Joy's sight with the bridle over her arm, and the animalfollowing her. 

"Did you see--" began the strange lady, just as Joy said:

"Would you please--"

Then each stopped and waited for the other to go on, though the ladywith the big white horse seemed in haste to ask and be gone. She wasthe first to continue, rather hurriedly. 

"Did you see a little boy on a pony, riding this way?" she asked. "I'm hunting for him. "

While Joy replied she looked admiringly at the speaker. She was muchtaller than Joy, and very pretty, with long blue eyes, a creamyskin, and hair that was the very "golden-yellow" of the ballad. Shemight have been anywhere in the later twenties, but Joy learnedafterwards that she was thirty-two. To Joy's eyes she was the fairylady of the ballad come true; for she had evidently flung herself onher horse just as she was, in a green evening gown with a lightcloak over it. Even in her anxiety for the child she had about heran atmosphere of bright serenity that made Joy in love with her. 

"I was just going to ask you to go after him, " Joy replied as shelooked. "He went past here a few minutes ago. I'm sure he is toolittle to be riding alone. "

"He is indeed, " said the golden lady, smiling. "Little villain! Butit seems he doesn't think so! Which way did he go, please?"

"Straight along this path, " Joy answered, pointing. 

The lady sprang to her horse again. 

"Thank you, " she called back, then more and more faintly, "I haven'tmuch time--now, to be--grateful as I should be. We'll--come--back--"

The last words were hardly distinguishable from the echo of theflying hoofs. The ballad-lady was gone. 

The whole thing seemed to Joy like something out of a pageant. Shewondered if the lovely lady in green was the little boy's mother, orhis sister or aunt. 

"It was a little like the Green Gnome poem, except that she washunting for him, and that the little boy was pretty, " she thought. In the poem the Gnome had turned to a "tall and comely man" when thelady kissed him. She liked the lady; there had been something so gayand friendly about her, just in those few words, that Joy's heartfelt warmed. Very few people near her own age came close enough tostately little Joy to be as friendly as the lady had been--or as thewishing-ring man had been. 

"Somewhere, " Joy decided happily, "there must be lots of people likethem, if I could only find the place. I'm sure I shall some day. "

She sat on in the gathering twilight, waiting for them to return. Asshe sat the thought of the wishing-ring man came back again. Wherever he was, he was wishing her well, and remembering her--hehad said--what was it--he'd had a "human five minutes" with her. Herheart beat unreasonably, as if he might be coming down the brownpath in the twilight, this instant, --as if the golden lady mightbring him back with her. 

It was nearly dark, and the wind was getting colder, when the hoofssounded down the path again. There were three of them now--and Joy'sheart gave a little spring, till she saw that the man riding theother horse was no one she knew. The pony was riderless, and he wasleading it, while the naughty little boy who had caused all thetrouble was perched in front of the lady's saddle, most impenitentlyconversational. She had one arm tight around him, as if she did notwant to lose him again, and she was smiling down at him andanswering him gaily as he talked. Punishment was evidently waived, or so far in the future as not to worry anybody. The child's clearlittle assured voiced came to her, sitting in the shadows. 

"But if God takes care of me, Faver, I don't see why I need a nursebovvering, " he was expostulating. 

Joy didn't hear just how his family met this objection. She saw thatthe lady looked about for her, and could not see her in thegathering darkness. 

Then she went back to the hotel, where she was very late for dinner. She looked around for the riders, but she did not see them. Evidentlythey were having dinner taken over. 

 * * * * *

Phyllis Harrington, rather regretfully, hooked a dog-chain to theporch railing of the cottage she and her husband had just hired. Itwas an entirely unnecessary part of the family bull-terrier'swardrobe, and she intended to use it as an instrument of justice. Soshe called her small son. She believed in making the punishment fitthe crime, and Philip had flagrantly run away, quite against orders, the evening before. 

He appeared at her summons, smiling angelically. Philip Harringtonhad not the smallest visible excuse for being the son of hisparents, for his father was not particularly dark, and his motherdistinctly gold-blond. Philip threw back, it was supposed, to thefamily Pirate, a semi-mythical person whom Phyllis said she'd hadsome thirteen generations ago. Phyllis was a New Englander. ThePirate must have been dark; at least Philip had tragic, enormousbrown eyes with dense lashes, a mop of straight black hair, and adusky skin, deeply rose-red at cheeks and lips. He also possessedthe gentle, solemn courtesy of a Spanish grandee, which the Piratemay or may not have been. He was full of charm of manner, andcombined a spirit of fearless loving-kindness to all the world withan inability to see why he shouldn't always have his own way; whichmade him difficult to manage. 

"You goin' to chain me up, Mother?" he inquired affectionately, nestling up to her. 

"Yes, " explained his mother, hardening her heart, "little boys who runaway from home like little dogs have to be treated like little dogs. "

"Oh, _I'll_ be a little dog, " replied Philip, enteringagreeably into the idea, and backing up to be chained. "No, I'll bea big dog. I'll run around an' jerk my chain an' say 'Woof! Woof!'like the Hewitts' setter. And Foxy 'n I'll have bones together!" Hissmall Vel�squez face lighted rapturously at the prospect. "Here, Foxy, Foxy!"

The black French bull whose chain Philip was using dashed up at thesummons. He was middle-aged, but he had a young heart still, and histail vibrated madly as he bounded between Phyllis and her son. 

"Oh, he's _got_ a bone!" exclaimed Philip, gleefully droppingon all fours. 

Phyllis stood up from chaining her child, and turned appealingly toher husband, coming down the steps of the little bungalow withtwo-and-a-half-year-old Angela on his shoulder. 

"You look like a colored illustration from the _Graphic_, " shesaid irrelevantly. "You're just in time to assist discipline. _Look!_" she pointed tragically to her victim. 

He would have been happily disputing the opportune bone with Foxy, hadnot that faithful animal's devotion led him to hand it over at once. 

"Faver, make him take it away from me!" he demanded. "Faver, I'm allchained up! I'm a little dog!"

Little Angela, who looked like a slim, tiny Christmas-card_Christ-kind_, and was as fascinating a little demon as evercoquetted with the world at large, struggled to get down, anddemanded to be chained up and be another little dog. Her father sether down, whereat she made a bolt for the dog, the bone, and herhappily engaged brother. 

"Do you think there's any way of conveying to him that this is not anew amusement, Allan?" demanded his mother, half-laughing. 

"Don't let's try, " said Allan promptly. "Everything's goingbeautifully. Philip's happy, and Angela's going to be gloriouslydirty in a minute, which will give her nurse something to wash. Youknow how bitter Viola is about never getting the children to herselffor a minute. "

Phyllis slipped an arm through her tall husband's, as they stood bythe steps together. 

"No, but Allan, what _would_ you do?"

Allan laughed. 

"Send him back to Wallraven, and tell Johnny Hewitt to see that he'splunged into the middle of the chickenpox epidemic we fled from. Howwould you like that, young man?"

Philip looked up with deprecating politeness, on being directlyaddressed. 

"Please, Faver, if you don't mind my name's Jinks! You must say, 'Here, Jinks, ' and I say 'Woof! Woof!' and wag my tail. "

"Say wuff!" echoed Angela, with a dazzling smile at her elders, andan effort not to tumble over on the grass. 

Phyllis pounced on her babies at Allan's alarming suggestion, andmanaged to hug them both at once; an ordeal which Philip stood withevery evidence of pleasure, and Angela under protest. 

"My poor little lambs! ... Allan, this is the first chickenpoxthey've had up there since the summer we came. We'd been married amonth or so, and you weren't quite sure whether you liked me or not. Do you remember?"

"I remember that first summer, " said he. "It's the only part ofthose seven years that I do want to remember. But the chickenpoxpart of it had escaped me. "

"Well, of course, " his wife admitted, "in those days children'sdiseases were nothing whatever in our lives. But when Johnny Hewittrefers to it as that wonderful summer seven years ago, I havediscovered that he means it was wonderful because he savedforty-three out of forty-three cases, not because you and I hadmarried each other to please your mother, and were finding out thatit was rather nice. "

"I'll be hanged if I know to this day what possible niceness therewas for you in being married to a man everybody thought would neverget well, " said Allan. 

"He was you, " explained Phyllis matter-of-factly, sitting down on astep to look at him better. "Anybody'd fall in love with you, Allan. You know perfectly well that it even happens now. "

"Certainly, " said he scornfully. "My well-known beauty and charmattract all classes; they besiege my path by day and night. By Jove, Phyllis, there's one now, the flapper I saw in the dining-roomlately. She's doubtless come over to say that she'll wait for metill you're through, being young. She's pretty, too. "

Phyllis laughed, and patted his foot, the only part of him she couldreach without getting up. "Now, now--I meant no harm. You can't helpbeing attractive.... Why, it's the girl in brown, the one whostarted out of a tree like a dryad, and showed me the way Philip hadgone, last night. She was the loveliest creature I ever saw. Look, Allan, she's like a Rossetti picture. "

"She _is_ like a Rossetti, " he answered, "but she looks ratherhappier. Most of the Rossetti ladies I ever saw hoped to die ofconsumption shortly. "

Joy, coming slowly over the grass on an errand from her grandfather, kept her eyes on the ground, because that way it was easier toremember the message she had to repeat up and down the rows ofcottages dotted among the trees. So it was not until she was quiteclose that she knew Phyllis again. 

Philip barked her a cheerful greeting, and Phyllis rose to greet her. 

"I am Alton Havenith's granddaughter, " Joy began, and theninterrupted herself joyfully. 

"Oh, it's my lady in green!" she cried. "You didn't see me when youcame back. "

"I looked for you, " Phyllis explained, holding out both hands inwelcome, "but it was too dark to see you. I thought you had gonehome. Did you say you were Alton Havenith's granddaughter? I lovehis poems. I'm Phyllis Harrington, and this is my husband. I'meternally grateful to you for helping me find my little boy. You seeI've made sure he won't escape again. "

"He isn't chained for life, as you might infer from that, " Allanexplained. 

Philip ceased being a dog for the moment, and held his hand outamiably to Joy. 

"I'm Philip, " he explained, following his mother's example andintroducing himself. "They called me Philip 'cause it was thenearest thing Faver could get to Phyllis. You see, they didn't knowthere was going to be Angela. This is Angela. Isn't she pretty?"

Angela, on being righted and shown off, produced her usual dazzlingsmile, and gave Joy a sweet, sidelong look out of her azureeyes--the look she knew conquered people. They were both, as Phyllisoften said, _such_ satisfactory children for exhibition purposes!

"Oh, aren't they darlings!" cried Joy, forgetting her missiongladly. "Will--will they mind if I hug them?"

"Not a bit, " answered their father, whom Joy had asked. "They arepractically indestructible, and they like petting. "

Joy knelt down, putting a shy arm around baby Angela, who, after amoment's survey of her, kissed her frankly of her own accord, withtwo tight little arms around her neck. 

Allan had an idea that the newcomer would be more at ease alone withPhyllis and the children, so he made some excuse about golf (whichhe hated) and disappeared. Joy sat down on the grass, with Angelamomentarily in her lap, and Foxy, who hinted that he, too, likedkind words, at her side. 

She had never had so many people (counting dogs) act as if theyliked really her. Foxy and the children didn't care a bit whosegranddaughter she was, and Mrs. Harrington, too, had made friendswith her without minding. But she was conscientious, and she feltshe ought to go on with her errand before she really gave herself upto the enjoyment of her call. 

"My grandfather is giving a reading from his works this evening, "she said, sitting up mechanically and crossing her hands, "and hesent me to say that he would be glad if you and Mr. Harrington wouldcare to come. "

"We'd love to, " Phyllis answered on the spot. "At his cottage?"

Joy nodded. 

"It's fun, " Phyllis went on, "leading this semidetached life, withno responsibilities whatever. There's only one drawback as far asI'm concerned; if Philip strays off too far somebody may take himfor a rabbit or a deer. The places where there's hunting are onlytwo miles away. That's why Allan and I were scouring the woods lastnight for him. Usually we let him run away as much as he likes, andthe poor child can't understand the new arrangement. "

Joy looked down at Philip, who had curled himself into anindiscriminate heap with the dog, and was taking a nap by way ofwhiling away his imprisonment. 

"Do you hunt?" she asked. 

Phyllis shook her head. 

"The way the gun bangs when it goes off worries me. I believethere's a bangless gun, but even so, you're expected to kill things, and I think the things are much happier alive. I don't even like thetaste of them cooked. But Allan hunts. He brings game-bags full ofpoor little dead things back whenever he's where he can do it. Hehasn't yet, here. We just came, you know. "

"I'm so glad you did!" said Joy fervently. 

"We were like Old Man Kangaroo--we had to!" smiled Phyllis. "There'schickenpox at our usual summer home, so we basely fled, leavingJohnny to struggle against its fearful ravages single-handed. "

Joy sat Angela down, because she was beginning to wriggle. 

"Is Johnny your brother?" she asked shyly. 

Phyllis shook her head. 

"I haven't a relative on earth, except these babies--of courseAllan's more of a relative by marriage. No, Johnny Hewitt's thefamily doctor, a classmate of Allan's, and a family possession. Hemight as well live with us, he's so much about the house and garden. I suppose this place is very good for the angel-children, but I'mafraid that in a few days I'm going to wish I was back among theroses, with Allan and Johnny and a banjo and a moon!"

Joy's eyes lighted. 

"Roses?" she said. "Oh, have you a rose-bush!"

Phyllis laughed. 

"'Do we keep a bee?' We have a garden full of roses. The gardenerhints mournfully that we ought to take prizes with them, but I knowperfectly well that would mean I couldn't pick them unless he letme. So I've given him a bush to play with, and he does take prizeswith that. He's colored, so Allan says we have to encourage him tohave ambitions. He's married to the cook. Our having coloredservants shocked the neighbors terribly at first, but they'rehardened to it now. I gave an intelligence office _carteblanche_ when I was married, and got the ones I have now; andwe're so fond of each other that I simply can't part with them andget haughty white persons. "

Phyllis' one idea in those early days, as Joy learned later, hadbeen to have a summer staff who were cheerful. The intelligenceoffice woman had, naturally, chosen happy-minded darkies. And happythey still remained; also adoring. 

The neighbors, though Phyllis did not state this, from being shockedhad become passionately envious. Servants who had stayed eight yearswithout a change, merely one addition, were things to be watchedhungrily. 

"I beg your pardon, but it's luncheon-time, Mrs. Harrington, " saidthe children's nurse at this point, appearing in the doorway. "May Ihave the children?"

Phyllis bent over the sleeping boy and dog and unfastened her son. The nurse gathered him up affectionately, and went in search ofAngela, who had strayed around the corner of the house a littlewhile before. 

"Oh, I must go, " cried Joy, starting to her feet. "They'll bewondering where I am. And I haven't been to half the cottages. "

She turned to go, then looked back at Phyllis wistfully. 

"Think of it, " she breathed. "A garden full of roses, and two men, and a banjo, and a moon!"

Her hands locked together over the invisible wishing ring. Shewondered if there was a garden like that anywhere that _he_ lived. 

Phyllis Harrington looked thoughtfully after her. There wassomething about Joy Havenith that always made people eager to dopleasant things for her, and watch her enjoying them. She did get somuch pleasure out of life whenever it let her. 

"It won't be my fault, " said Phyllis, coming to a determination, "ifthat child doesn't get a chance at the garden and the moon, and themen, too!"

When Phyllis made up her mind it generally stayed made. Accordingly, she went to the reading that night, and afterwards made herself aslovely to the Haveniths as she knew how, which was a good deal. Sheasked them to have tea with her the next day, and continued to belovely. She also managed to give them a very fair idea of everythingthey might be supposed to need to know about the Harrington family. When she had finished they had discovered several mutual friends, ameeting with Mr. Harrington's late mother abroad, the genealogies ofboth Allan and Phyllis, and even a common ancestor somewhere in theseventeen-nineties on Allan's side. The Haveniths thought it had alljust transpired, but Phyllis had really been tactfully offeringreferences. After about a week of pleasant friendship Phyllisproduced her invitation. 

She wanted to take Joy home with her for the last part of Septemberand the first part of October. Joy was wild with delight at theidea; but her grandparents would not let her go. They never hadbefore, and it didn't occur to them that they could now. 

"Just for a little while?" she pleaded. 

But her grandparents were firm. 

"Under no circumstances could we let you go away from us, dear, "said her grandfather firmly. "I am an old man, and the time willcome soon enough when I shall be with you no longer. If you lovedme, you would not ask it. When your lover comes it will be timeenough. "

It sounded true enough. Joy did not exactly know how to meet it. Then she brightened up. 

"If you let me go for a little while, I'm sure I'd miss youdreadfully, and love you more than ever. I'm sure I would!"

But Grandfather didn't intend to part with his little girl on anysuch premise as that, and Grandmother was sure something dreadfulwould happen if she was allowed to go. 

"There is no excuse for it, unless you were engaged to be married, dear, and going on a visit to your prospective people-in-law, " shesaid. "I couldn't let you go off without me otherwise. "

It was too tempting. Before she thought, Joy had spoken. 

"If I were, would it be all right?" she asked. 

Grandfather answered her, somewhat at length. 

"My dear child, you know my feelings about love. I myself marriedyour grandmother after a two days' courtship, when she was seventeenand I was twenty-one; and I may say that I have never regrettedit--nor, I hope, has she. If you were affianced, nothing shouldcause me to interfere with the course of true love. Your grandmotherand I would let you go to visit his people willingly. Your assurancethat you loved him----"

Joy leaned forward, her eyes blazing with excitement. 

"And suppose I told you I was engaged, would you let me go to visitPhyllis, if she lived near him, and--and his people were so situatedthat he couldn't have me?"

Grandfather was perfectly certain that Joy was no more engaged thanold Elizabeth the cook was, and he went on placidly with hishypothetical case, which was also his hobby. 

"If I had met the young man, received him socially, even once, mychild, you may be sure, under those circumstances, you might go. Onehas no right to interfere with----"

Grandmother in the background wasn't so sure, her eager little facesaid, but she was a very obedient and adoring wife. 

Joy interrupted him. He had given her a loophole, and she wasdesperate to go. She couldn't wait forever for the lover!

"Grandfather, I--I _am_ engaged! I met him at one of yourreceptions, and so did you, _quite_ socially. You--I know youmust have met him, and liked him, too--everybody does. "

It was a terrible thing to do, and Joy's heart beat fast. But surelythe Wishing-Ring Man wouldn't mind--he would never know even! AndGrandfather had talked so long about giving her up at sight to thathypothetical lover, that he might almost have been said to put thewickedness into her head. And if she waited for a real one she mightwander alone about the parlors till she was an old, old maid withtrailing gray braids. 

There was a frozen silence. 

"En-gaged?" said Grandfather faintly. 

Grandfather had a code all to himself. He didn't know it, being aman, but he had. It forbade ever being taken by surprise, ever beingat a loss, ever being in the wrong, or ever contradicting himself. This made for great respect, given to him by the world at large, hisfamily, and himself; but it put him at a terrible disadvantage inthings like this. He couldn't go back on what the great AltonHavenith had said for many years. Joy, shivering but desperate, knewthis perfectly well, though she didn't formulate it. 

"You always hoped for it, " she told him firmly. 

"I--I did, " said Grandfather with an obvious discomfort, but withunabated loyalty to himself. Then he snatched at a pretext. Poorlittle Grandmother's, hands were opening and shutting, but she waswell trained, and she didn't speak till he was through dealing withthe situation. 

"Can your friends vouch for him socially?" Grandfather demanded. 

Joy's alert, frightened mind scurried about for a moment, then sheplunged into further fabrications. 

"He's--why, Grandfather, he's their closest friend, the one theycall Johnny. He--he lives near them. "

Grandfather was entirely what the profane would call up a tree. Hehad been giving his consent for some seventeen years. And Joy hadswept the ground from under his feet. He did not in the leastremember meeting this amazing lover at any of his receptions, butthere had been a tradition for many years that he never forgot aname or a face. Now he _had_ been doing it for two or threeseasons past, but he never admitted it to himself, and nobody elsedared admit it, either. 

As for the truth of what Joy said, it did not occur to him to doubtthat. Joy had never told them anything but the truth in her life. Asa matter of fact, there had never been anything for her to deceivethem about. But that did not dawn on him. 

There was another frozen silence. Grandfather was checkmated. 

Joy had not intended to do it, of set purpose. She respectedGrandfather too thoroughly. But she was struggling for the onlypiece of happiness that had ever come her way in the whole of herplacid, tranced little life. 

"In that case, my dear, " Grandfather pronounced slowly, "I give myconsent. What did you say the young man's name was?"

"John, " she said faintly, bending her head, and coloring hotly andsuddenly. She had just remembered that the Wishing-Ring Man's namereally was Jack, and she hadn't meant to use _that_ name. Thatwas private. 

"That makes it a little better, " said Grandmother; why, Joy did notsee or know until much too late. "His name is Hewitt. You rememberMrs. Harrington's discussing him with us, Alton. " ... Then all herobedience to Grandfather did not keep her from putting her armsaround Joy and beginning to cry. 

"Oh, my dear, my dearest, " she said. "Why didn't you confide in meabout it? You know I would have been so interested!"

Joy had a little lump in her throat, and she almost cried out, "I'mnot, Grandmother!"

But she had all Grandfather's pride, and--and besides, she had gonethis far--how could she go back?

Grandfather interposed, struggling hard with his natural surprise. 

"A little emotion is natural in this case, dear Jennie, " he said, "but you must make allowance for a young girl's shyness. The youngman, I trust, will speak to us about it. "

How she would explain to Phyllis had not yet occurred to Joy.... There are times when an education in all the best poets is aneverlasting nuisance. 

 _"Oh, what a tangled web we weave When first we practise to deceive!"_

danced through Joy's head.... If only those fatal first sentenceshadn't popped out, and if she only hadn't been too proud to takethem back!

Just the same she continued to feel that a month of life off withgay, kind people her own age was worth almost any price; which wasexceedingly wrong, and got Joy into a fearful mess, as amateur lyingis apt to do. Because Grandfather rose up after this, with whatPhyllis called his Earl of Dorincourt air, and spoke. 

"There is no time like the present for the rectifying of an error. We will go over now, and explain to Mrs. Harrington that when werefused our consent to this visit we were unaware of all thecircumstances. Come, my love. Come, Joy. "

From sheer paralysis of will power Joy let him draw her hand throughhis arm in his accustomed way, and march her off towards theHarrington cottage between himself and Grandmother. She felt likeMary-Queen-of-Scots being led to execution, and exceedinglyregretful that she had never learned to faint. Suddenly a wonderfulthought came over her. 

"Let me run ahead, please, and see if Phyllis is at home, " sheasked, and ran ahead of them without waiting for an answer. 

It was golden, late afternoon, and she could see Phyllis on herveranda. She was lying in the hammock with little Angela nestledbeside her, and Philip constructing something monumental with screwsand wires on the floor by them. She had apparently been telling thema quite unexpurgated edition of Little Red-Riding-Hood, for as Joyflew up the steps Philip swerved with a startled look. 

"Do you think there could be a wolf after Joy?" he inquired of hismother. 

"Phyllis, please, I want to talk to you alone, " Joy panted. "I haveto tell you before _they_ get here. And--" she laughed a littlebreathlessly--"it isn't fit for the children's ears. "

"You don't know what their ears are used to, " Phyllis answeredleisurely. "Philip, darling, you can go and hunt for your friend Mr. Jones on the links, if you want to. "

Philip dashed off, grinning happily. He had hopes, which his motherwas not supposed to know (but did), of being allowed to caddy someglorious day, if he watched his opportunity. 

"Oh, Phyllis, I'm in dreadful trouble, and please won't you helpme?" Joy began, flinging herself close to the hammock and clutchingits edge with one nervous hand. "Please help me--"

"Of course, " said Phyllis. "What's it about?"

But Joy had delayed her story too long. Before Phyllis had more thanmade her rash promise of help the elder Haveniths were upon her. Phyllis rose to her feet to greet them, with an air of graciouscourtesy which the infant swinging beside her scarcely impaired at all. 

"We have brought our little girl over, my dear Mrs. Harrington, totell you that we have reconsidered our decision, " Mr. Havenithstated, sweeping his broad Panama from his wonderful white hair. "The information Joy has brought us--"

He was interrupted by the appearance round the corner of the cottageof two men. One was Allan Harrington. The other--

"Here's Johnny, Phyllis, " Allan called joyously. "His old epidemic'sall over, everybody either killed or cured. He was actually on theright train, the one he said he'd take. "

Joy's heart turned over. This was a doubly dreadful thing she hadbrought on herself. 

It was the Wishing-Ring Man!

CHAPTER FOUR

THE RESCUE OF THE PRINCESS

For one awful moment nobody spoke. John Hewitt, having no key to thesituation, was quite unembarrassed. So was Angela, who wriggledherself to earth with a rapturous shriek of "Johnny! Johnny!Cakies!"

Hewitt gathered up Angela, and, followed by his host, came up the steps, to where Phyllis stood, tall and gracious, with Joy clinging to her. 

"Why, it's little Joy!" he said surprisedly, smiling at her as hetook Phyllis' hand. "Where did you find her, Phyllis?"

Joy clung closer to Phyllis, waiting for the storm to break, for Mr. Havenith was stepping forward now, holding a courteous, if dazed, hand to the man his granddaughter had elected as her fianc�. Hespoke before Phyllis could answer. 

"And so you are my little girl's betrothed!" he said with ratherstiff courtesy. "Ah--yes. I remember you, sir. "

John Hewitt's gray eyes moved from Phyllis, standing there obviouslyquite taken by surprise, to Joy, clinging to her burning-cheeked, inwhat was quite as obviously an agony of terror. He caught his breathfor a moment, moved forward and opened his lips to speak, then shutthem again firmly and stood still where he was, with the afternoonsunlight glinting over his fair head, and little Angela's moregolden one, pressed close beside it. As he remained still, his eyesrested gravely on Joy: the very little princess of the fairytale, with the dragon imminent at any moment. She looked very piteous andterrified and small; not more than fifteen, and unbearably afraid ofhim, with her black-framed blue eyes fixed on his in an appeal asagonized as it was unconscious. He caught his breath again, thenturned to answer her grandfather, his decision made. 

"I am glad you remember me, sir, " he said gravely, "and exceedinglyglad that you are willing Joy should--"

Joy gave a long shudder of relief, and relaxed all over. He was notgoing to put her to shame there before all of them. She would havetime to explain. She would not have her visit, but that, even, seemed a small thing beside the dreadful danger she had justescaped. She could tell him when they were alone. 

Grandmother was coming forward now, to speak to him, where he stood, straight and dignified and handsome, with the little girl still onone arm. 

"You are my old friend Grace Carpenter's son, as I was just tellingMr. Havenith. Edith Carpenter's nephew.... I--I am glad you are afriend's son, " Grandmother finished tremulously. 

John set Angela down and took Grandmother's hand, saying somethingto her gently--Joy never knew what. She had stood enough. 

Phyllis felt Joy's hand pull out of hers. The inn-cottages were allbuilt alike, so Joy knew perfectly well how to bolt through thefront door, through the living-room to the back door and away. Viola, mending a little sock, caught a glimpse of flying skirts andflying braids. 

"Them red-haired folks certainly is tempestuous, but they'sgitters, " she remarked to herself philosophically, and went on withher mending. 

Outside, Phyllis looked at Allan and Allan looked at Phyllis. Theredidn't seem much to say about it. At last Allan spoke, in a way thathe and Phyllis agreed afterwards was painfully inadequate, but wasall he could think of to say. 

"Ah--would you like to put away your suitcase, old man?" heinquired. "You must be tired of--of seeing it there. "

Phyllis gurgled under her breath, but every one else was deadlyserious. Nobody seemed to see anything funny about the offer. 

"Thank you very much, " John responded solemnly. "Yes, thank you, Harrington, I believe I would. "

He bent over and picked it up, and followed his host inside. 

Neither of them said anything as they went upstairs. 

"Here's your room, " Allan offered, showing it politely. 

"So it is, " murmured John in a quite expressionless voice, lookingat it without seeming to know how to enter. 

"It's to live in, you know, " Allan suggested. 

At this broad hint John went in and put his suitcase on the bed. Hestill appeared to be in more or less of a trance-state. 

"If we'd known, we'd have tied a little white ribbon here and there, and arranged a rice-cascade--a shower, isn't it? or something, "continued his host, amiably. "Awfully sorry, old chap, but youshouldn't have been so darn secretive. But we'll do our best--"

John awoke at this, and caught up a small pink pincushion which satin the mathematical middle of his dresser, and threw it. It didn'thit Allan, because he dodged. 

"That's one of Phyllis' favorite pincushions, " he warned John fromoutside the door. "I say, Johnny, this isn't any way to repayhospitality. "

He went on down the stair, and John could see his shoulders shaking. 

"They've both got too confounded much sense of humor, " said Johnbitterly. 

But he went out and picked up the pincushion just the same, andaddressed himself to the methodical unpacking of his suitcase. 

"Oh, I forgot! Congratulations!" Allan called cheerily up from thestair-foot. 

John, casting collars automatically from suitcase to dresser-top, growled. 

"Congratulations! I need prayers more!" he said under his breath. "But--poor little thing! I might as well have stepped on akitten! ... I certainly did tell her to hope for better things andthey'd come.... I didn't know I was going to be one of 'em!"

Then, as he continued to unpack he grinned in spite of himself, forinto his mind came a poem of Guiterman's he'd read lately, about anagnostic Brahmin who didn't believe in prayer, and cameinadvertently on a tiger praying for a meal in the jungle:

 _"The trustful Tiger closed his prayer-- Behold--a Brahmin trembling there! The Brahmin never scoffed a whit. The Prayer had answer_. --He _was_ It. "

"I wonder, " mused John, "whether she's a kitten, or a tiger? Anyway, _I_ was _It_! ... I can't stand any more of anything just now. I'll get out till dinner-time!"

He tiptoed downstairs, and in his turn slid out the back door. TheHaveniths were still talking to the Harringtons on the frontveranda, he noted with a certain pleasure in their durance, andPhyllis' back looked polite but tired. He headed for the adjacentwoods, diving into the leafy coolness with a feeling of escape. Thewood blew cool and a little moist, and fragrant with far-offwood-smoke, and there was a feeling of solitude that he liked. Hesighed with relief as he rounded the turn in the wood-path. 

And there before him, at the foot of her great oak, stood Joy, notexpecting him in the least. She uttered a little cry at sight ofhim, and turned to run away. Then she thought better of it, andstood her ground. Just what John might be going to do or say to hershe did not know, but she thought he was entitled to do almostanything, and stood prepared for it, her face buried in her hands. 

John had been a little irritated at the sight of her, but herevident terror moved him, as it had before. He was, through andthrough, the best type of physician; a man whose first and rulingimpulse was always to help and heal, whether it was body or soul, oronly feelings. Joy, standing with her face hidden, felt him layinghis hands, smooth and strong, over hers. 

"Aren't you even going to look at the fianc� you've picked out?" sheheard him say half-amusedly. "Why, I'm not going to hurt you, child. "

He took her hands down. She let him, and raised her eyes to hiskindly, wise steel-gray ones. He seemed to be regarding her in afriendly fashion, and she dared to look at him friendlily, too--evento smile a little. He brought to her the same sense of brightnessand well-being that she had experienced before, and her heart feltlighter, though by every law of reason she should have been moreashamed than ever, confronted with him, there alone. 

"Of course you won't hurt me, " she said. "But--well, when you stealanybody's name and get engaged to it, they have a right to be cross. You can be, if you want to, and I won't say a word. I know very wellI deserve it!"

John Hewitt _had_ intended to be cross--very cross indeed; butwith Joy's kitten-blue eyes fixed trustfully on his he found itdifficult even to be stern. He made an attempt, nevertheless. 

"Don't you know that a little girl like you isn't old enough to beengaged to be married?" he told her severely. He sat down on a heapof brown and scarlet leaves, the better to show Joy the error of herways. "What made you think of it at all?"

Joy smiled. She was quite at ease now, with the curious feeling ofease and happiness he always gave her, and she answered him calmly, drawing a heavy copper plait forward over each shoulder. 

"It's these that have made you think so all along. I'm nineteen. "

John sat back a little, with both hands clasped over one gray-cladknee, and looked at her again in the light of that. 

"It's hard to realize, I know, " she said apologetically. She liftedthe wonderful braids and bound them crownwise around her head, tyingthe ends together behind as if they were pieces of ribbon, andtucking them under with a comb, from behind one ear. She anchoredthem in front with the other comb, and smiled flashingly at himagain. "Now it seems real, doesn't it? And now I'll tell you allabout it--that is, if you have the time. "

He looked again at the lovely, earnest little face under the crownof hair, and nodded gravely. She was not like any girl he had everknown.... She was like the girls you imagined might exist, sometimes, and wondered if you'd like them, after all, if they did. He wanted her to go on, at least, and felt stealing over him aconviction that she couldn't have done so particularly wrong. 

Joy felt the lessened severity of his attitude, and took couragefrom it as she began. 

"You remember that day you came to Grandfather's? You remembered myname, so I'm sure you do remember the rest. Well, that day I wasespecially unhappy because--well, it's hard to explain the because. Things were just as good as they always had been, really; only thatday I couldn't stand them any more. You know things _can_ bethat way. "

She looked at him expectantly, and he nodded again. 

"It was a forlorn little life for a child like you--oh, I keepforgetting!"

He laughed. 

"But even nineteen, " he explained, "isn't particularly aged to anelderly gentleman of thirty-four. "

"As old as that?" queried Joy. 

She looked at _him_ again in the light of new information, butshe shelved it for the time, and went on with her defense. 

"Well, that afternoon, when things were perfectly down to the veryflattest bottom--'and not a ray of hope to gild the gloom'--youcame. And things brightened up. You know you told me that if I hopedalong, things I wanted would come?"

"I do know it!" said John with a fervor she did not understand. 

"Well, they did!" she announced, looking at him radiantly, andpausing a little so he would have time to realize it. 

John Hewitt's patients had always told him that just his coming inmade them better, and he had simply accepted the faculty as usefulin his work. But he had never thought that his personality couldaffect a perfectly well person. At Joy's tribute, unconsciouslygiven, his pulse quickened a little. Had he really had this muchpower for happiness over the child?... 

"Almost right away they brought me to this lovely place, " she wenton happily, "and almost right after that I met the Harringtons. It'sall seemed to me because of your wishing ring. "

"What wishing ring?" he asked, smiling indulgently at her, as onedoes at a child's fancies. 

"Don't you remember?" she asked a little forlornly. "Well--you havesuch lots of things to remember! You said, 'Just keep on believingthings will come right, don't lose heart, and they will. ' I said, 'Like a wishing ring?' and you said, 'Yes. ' I've felt as if I woreone--played I did, I suppose you'd say. I--I suppose I really am notbeing grown-up very well, after all.... Well, after I knew Phyllisthe best thing of all happened. She asked me to come stay with her, and have roses and a moon, and children all day long. ButGrandfather always said I couldn't go under any circumstances butbeing engaged.... And I was so wild to go--it just slippedout--truly it did! And then--the gods overtook me!"

She clasped her hands in her lap, and looked up at him--she had sunkto the ground when he did, and was also sitting on a leaf-heap. Shetilted her head back against the big tree, and awaited her sentence. 

John felt for the moment exactly the mingled pleasure andembarrassment that a man does who has been adopted by an unusuallynice dog. It is a compliment, but one doesn't know exactly what todo with the animal. Joy sat and looked at him with what seemed tohim to be a perfect trust that he would be good to her. As a matterof fact, Joy was merely pleased because he was there and not angryat her. She did hope a little that he would offer to do theexplaining that they weren't engaged to Grandfather. But she wasquite unprepared for what he said next, after a little silence. 

"You're a brave little thing, " he told her gently. "You shan't missyour roses and your moons on my account.... I'll tell you what we'lldo, Joy. We'll stay engaged till we're out of sight of land. "

She looked at him with parted lips. 

"What--what do you mean?"

"You shall go to Phyllis' just the same, child. We won't even tellthe Harringtons that it isn't true till we're on the train forWallraven. "

Joy stared at him, incredulous still. She could not speak for a moment. 

"Oh!" she said then. "Oh--why, you're the kindest man I ever knew. But then, I _knew_ you were! Thank you ever so much ... But--areyou sure you don't mind at all?"

"Quite sure, " he told her. 

"Well--_thank_ you!" said Joy fervently. "And oh, if I ever getthe chance, I promise I'll do something for you you want. Just thinkof what you're giving me--a whole month of being just as happy as Ilike! We can go back to the bungalows now. I don't mind beingcongratulated one bit after this--do you?"

"N-no, " said John a little dubiously. Then he laughed. "There's onething you've forgotten. There's always a ring when people areengaged, even for four days. "

Joy said nothing to this. She watched him while he slipped acurious, chased dull gold band with a diamond sunk in it, from hislittle finger. "It isn't a conventional solitaire sitting up onstilts, but it will do, won't it?" he asked. 

She held her little slim hand out for it, her face sparkling. Hiswere the long, slender, square-tipped fingers of the typical"surgeon's hand, " smooth and strong. But Joy's hands were little forher build, which was not large, and the ring slid down herengagement finger till she had to anchor it with a little gold bandfrom the other hand, pushed down over it. 

"I'll take very good care of it, and polish it before I give it backto you, " she assured him. 

He answered her on a sudden boyish impulse. 

"I don't want you to give it back to me. You're to keep it.... Itcan be your wishing ring that you said I brought you, Joy. "

She smiled down at it, loose on her finger. 

"Why, so it is--my wishing ring!" she sighed happily. She turned itabout her finger, and he saw her lips move. She was wishing. Hewondered what, but she did not offer to tell him. 

"I wish that he may have the thing he wants the very most in all theworld, " she was saying fervently under her breath. When she was doneshe rose from the leaves, and he sprang up beside her. 

"There's one more ceremony, " he told her, half-amusedly. "Even for afour days' engagement, to make it _quite_ legal--" He benttoward her, smiling. 

"Oh--oh, should we?" stammered Joy, her wild-rose color deepening torose-red. 

"I really think we should, " said John solemnly. It was the nearestto teasing any one he had come for a long time, and he found himselfrather enjoying it. Besides, in his heart lurked the feeling thatthe child ought to realize that she might have let herself in for agood deal, if she hadn't fallen into merciful hands. He was a littleashamed of himself at the sweet way she took it. She merely heldherself quite still and serious, and lifted her face a little. 

John was a young man who always went through with anything he hadbegun, and he bent over and kissed Joy, very lightly. 

"I'm sorry, " he said. 

"I--I didn't mind, " said Joy, trying to make him happy, for she sawhe was sorry, though she didn't know why or what for. 

"You dear child!" he said. "Well, I won't do it again. I was teasingyou, and I shouldn't. Come, we ought to go now. "

She fell into step beside him, still mystified, but very muchobliged to him in general, and they went back to the bungalow andcongratulations side by side. 

Meanwhile two very much surprised young people confronted two stillperturbed old ones in the sunset on Phyllis' veranda. 

"Now _why_ do you suppose, " Allan demanded of the world ingeneral, "Johnny didn't break the news to us? I've rarely known aman who liked secrets less. He hasn't even come over and lookedradiant with his mouth shut, as a normal human being would. "

Phyllis picked up Angela and gazed over her head as she considered. She had a way of using Angela as most women do knitting or embroidery:as something to have in her hands when she wanted to think. 

"It was certainly a case of very silent emotion, " she saidcontemplatively. 

"What was there a case of, Mother?" demanded Philip, reappearing, very dusty, and climbing up on all of her that Angela didn't occupy, thereby damaging fatally the spotlessness of her crinkled white silkskirt. "Is it something to eat? Did Johnny bring--"

"Johnny brought the rather surprising news that he and Joy are goingto be married, " his mother informed him, kissing the back of hisneck. She spoke to him, as she always did, in a manner entirelyunedited for children. If he didn't always know the long words, asshe said, so much the better--his growing intelligence was stretcheda little hunting them up. 

The growing intelligence was certainly excited now. 

"Married?" inquired Philip indignantly, voicing the feelings of theentire party. "Well, I think it would of been politer to have let usknow before they spoke to each other about it!"

It was no time to feed either of the children, and their nurse wouldhave been horrified, but Allan produced a box of marshmallows frombehind a jardini�re before anything more was said. 

"Here, my dear son, " he said politely. "You deserve them for sayingthat. 'Them's our sentiments, ' too, only we hadn't quite decided howto put it. Now go off and die happily, and only give Angela two. "

Philip returned thanks automatically, clutched the box and fledbefore any one should interfere to revoke this wonderful gift fromHeaven. Angela wriggled her small, blue-overalled body down and wentin passionate pursuit. 

"Now, you mustn't worry about it, " Phyllis said to Mrs. Havenith, rising with one of her swift, graceful movements and putting botharms about the disconsolate old lady. "John Hewitt is one of thebest men I ever knew. He's a rock of defense. Indeed, you may trusthim with Joy. Allan has known him since they were in collegetogether, and he has been our closest friend since our marriage. He's--why, he's nearly as nice as Allan, and that's saying all I_can_ say. Isn't he, Allan?"

"As nice as I am?" said Allan, laughing and coming nearer to them. "That would be difficult, you know, Phyllis! But, seriously, Mrs. Havenith, " he went on more gravely, "you can trust Hewitt to makeJoy very happy. He's one of the best fellows I ever knew. And he isamply able to take care of Joy, if that is worrying you. "

"He's perfectly adorable to his mother, too, " Phyllis interposed;"and she's that marvelous thing, a mother who wishes her son wouldmarry. You don't know what a lot there is in that!"

"True, " said Allan teasingly, in a tone too low for any one but hiswife to hear; "it can't be carried too far, as I have reason to know. "

Phyllis had been rather unusually her mother-in-law'schoice--indeed, the late Mrs. Harrington had done a good deal morein the business than she had any right to, and only Phyllis' ownsweetness and common sense and the fact that Allan and Phyllis fellin love after their marriage had justified what old Mrs. Harringtondid in the case. And when it did turn out properly she was not thereto see, having died as soon as she had gotten her son (who was then, as every one thought, hopelessly paralyzed) safely married. 

Phyllis broke off to say swiftly, under her breath, "I'll be even withyou for that, Allan Harrington!" and went on trying to console theHaveniths; for poor Mr. Havenith sat, dignified and forlorn, tryingto look perfectly omniscient and satisfied and not succeeding a bit. 

After repeated assurances the Haveniths seemed a little happier, andwent back to their bungalow to dress for dinner. The Harringtonssank back in their chairs with a sigh of relief apiece. 

"I don't care if Philip eats every marshmallow on earth, I'm notgoing to stir till I've talked it over with you, Allan, " said hiswife determinedly. 

She looked so pretty as she said it that Allan rose from his chair, tipped her chin back and kissed her. 

"So she should gossip if she wanted to, " he told her teasingly, dropping back into his own chair before she could object, if she hadwanted to. "Go on, my dearest; say all the things you wouldn't saybefore the Haveniths. I'm perfectly safe. "

"Yes, thank goodness, you are, " acknowledged his wife. "Telling youthings is like dropping them down a deep black well, which is agreat comfort to a confiding person like myself. Well, then, if youinsist on knowing what my lower nature thinks of this performance, it's my opinion that Joy and Johnny both ought to have their earsboxed. I don't believe in corporal punishment as a rule, but ifthere ever was a time for it--"

"In Philip's words, " suggested her husband, "it would have beenpoliter to have told us before they made up their minds!"

Phyllis laughed. 

"I confess I rather agree with him, " she said. "It was a littleshock. Just the same, I never came across any one sweeter orprettier or more attractive than Joy, and it certainly is a comfortto know that John's wife will be some one I can be friends withwithout a struggle. You never _can_ tell what a man's going tomarry. "

Allan arose and walked up and down meditatively, his golden-browneyes fixed on the dulling sunset. He had spent several of his yearslying on his back, as the result of an automobile accident in hisearly youth, and since he had been given back the use of his limbs henever kept still unnecessarily. He had arrears to make up, he said. 

Phyllis watched him striding back and forth, tall and graceful, andforgot all about Joy's love-affairs. For the moment, watching hisgrace of movement lovingly, she was back in the days that had seemedso happy then, but were so much less happy than these, when they hadhad their first glad certainty that he would entirely recover. Ithad taken less than six months from the time he first stood, beforehe could walk easily, and another six before he could go back tohorseback--tennis and swimming had been later still. It seemedsometimes to them both as if it had all been a dream, so active anduntiring he was now. 

"Heaven _has_ been good to us, " she said irrelevantly, butearnestly, looking up at him. 

"Heaven's been good to me, I know, " Allan said tenderly. "I have thebest and sweetest girl in the world to spend my life with me... "

"John would disagree with you, " said Phyllis, smiling up at himnevertheless, and flushing. "Allan, did it strike you that Johnwould have been just as well pleased if Joy _hadn't_ broken thenews to Grandfather right then?"

"Johnny's like Talleyrand; you'd never know it from his expressionif some one kicked him from behind.... Not that I'd like to be thekicker. "

"So if he looked surprised, which he certainly did, " pursued Phyllisdecisively, "he was _quite_ surprised, not to say upset. "

"Oh, not as bad as all that, " said Allan, who was not given toanalysis. "I say, Phyllis, we really ought to go off and see if thechildren aren't dying under a tree somewhere. "

"They are not, " said the children's mother firmly. "You know Angelais much more under Philip's thumb than she is yours or mine orViola's, and he's a martinet where she's concerned. She'll never getmore than her legal two marshmallows, and a boxful won't hurt_him_. "

"You're such a blessing, Phyllis, " he answered irrelevantly. "Beforethe children came I used to wonder a little whether they wouldn'tget in the way of my enjoyment of your society; but you didn't dieand turn into a mother one bit. You've just added it on, like asensible girl. "

"Well, of course I'm attached to the babies, " said Phyllis, whowould have died cheerfully for either of them, "but you'd naturallycome first. And they're much happier than if I were one of thoseprofessional mothers who can't discuss anything but croup.... Allan, it's time we began putting up triumphal arches. Here they are. "

Allan began to whistle "Here Comes the Bride" softly and profanelyunder his breath, as Joy and John Hewitt neared them, but Phyllismanaged to stop him before he was audible. 

"She _is_ a darling, isn't she?" Phyllis whispered, as shestood on the steps with one hand on Allan's arm. "Look at her, Allan--she looks like a strong little Rossetti angel! Oh, I'm soglad it's happened!"

She ran impulsively down the steps to greet them, her handsoutstretched. 

"I _am_ so glad!" she said sincerely. "I don't believe anythingnicer could have happened, even if we _weren't_ notified!" Sheput one arm around Joy, giving the unoccupied other hand to JohnHewitt. "And I think it's specially nice of you to stay with meinstead of with Mrs. Hewitt, my dear. "

Joy looked up at Hewitt appealingly. She was already beginning tofeel that he was to be depended on to see her through things. 

"I think Mother will want her innings sooner or later, " he said. "But we haven't really told either of you all about it. You shallhave the whole thrilling tale in the train. Suspend judgment on usboth till then, please. "

"Oh, there isn't any judgment, " Phyllis answered gaily. "You needn'ttry to get out of your engagement on our account, either of you. TheHarrington family registers entire satisfaction, doesn't it, Allan?"

"We're both awfully glad, old man, " said Allan for his part. 

Joy wondered, her heart beating with excitement, if they would mindvery much when they heard the truth.... But such kind people as theHarringtons couldn't be very angry!

She was beginning to feel irrevocably engaged.... Never mind--JohnHewitt would see her through. She looked up at him, and he smileddown on her. 

"Let's all have dinner sent over here, " suggested Phyllisbrilliantly, "to celebrate. We'll have Viola go over to the hotelfor your grandparents. "

But Grandfather, it appeared, had gone to bed to rest from hisexcitement, and Grandmother, of course, was staying with him. So thefour of them ate together in the little green living-room of thebungalow, talking and laughing happily. Joy, between Allan and John, spoke very little. But she felt so contented and so in the midst ofthings that she did not need to talk. She gleamed and shone like ajewel or a flower, smiling and answering happily when she wasaddressed: and John, looking at her, felt that his four days'protectorate was going to be perfectly simple and easy to endure. 

CHAPTER FIVE

THE SHADOW OF GAIL

Joy spent most of the next morning talking to her grandparents--atleast, they talked and she listened. Grandmother, now that the firstshock was over, took the news with the same sweet and patientacceptance of people's behavior that forty-five years' sojourn amongpoets had taught her. The fact that Edith and Grace Carpenter wereJohn Hewitt's aunt and mother appeared to comfort her a great deal. It made her feel less that Joy was marrying into a strange tribe. 

Joy was pleased that this gave her grandmother relief. It was nottill the day of departure that she discovered what awful thing morehad been the result of the friendship. Indeed, it could haveoccurred to nobody, although, as John and she agreed afterwards, anybody _should_ have seen what was going to happen!

For the remaining days at the mountain inn there was littleexcitement. Joy kept close to Phyllis or her grandmother, and Johnenjoyed himself in what struck the Harringtons as being rather toomuch his usual way. It seemed to them that a little scheming to seeJoy alone would have been more appropriate. But neither Phyllis norAllan were given to being relentlessly tactful, or planningsituations for people. They reasoned that if the others reallywanted _t�te-�-t�tes_ they could manage them without help; anddoubtless would, once they were in the country. So peace andunruffledness reigned in a way that was most surprising, consideringthe real facts of the case. They continued, even in Joy's mind, tillalmost the last minute, when she stood on the platform of the resortstation with Phyllis, Allan, John, the children, Viola, and thebulldog, awaiting their train. 

Philip was having to be cheered and distracted: his tender heart wasnearly broken over the fact that his beloved Foxy had to travel inthe baggage-car, when he would have been so much happier in thebosom of his family. Philip could not be restrained from pleadingthe dog's cause at length with a fatherly baggageman whose heart hehad quite won in four minutes. 

"He has a green-plush chair at home that he _always_ sits in, and nobody takes it away from him, not even company, " he explainedearnestly. "He isn't used to baggage-cars--truly he isn't. He's awonderful-mannered dog. And father says that if he lived up to hispedigree he wouldn't 'sociate wiv _any_ of us. You can _see_he doesn't belong in a baggage-car!"

The baggageman, melted by Philip's ardent pleadings, was yielding tothe extent of letting Foxy's family sit with him in relays and cheerhim as much as they liked, when Grandmother dropped her bombshell. At least, that was what John called it when they talked it overafterwards. Joy always spoke of it as "the time Grandmother said theawful thing. "

"Good-by, my little girl, " she said. "I know Grace Carpenter's boycan't but be good to you. And, darling--she asked me to keep it fora surprise--I only heard this morning--but I know surprises aren'talways pleasant--and you're so young, you need to be prepared. Gracewrote me she was greatly surprised by the news, though I'm sure sheneedn't have expected to be told if we weren't--but she was verysweet about it, and is giving a dance to all the nice people inWallraven for you. It's set for the evening after you get there. Shetells me she has arranged the invitations already, in a way thatmakes the short notice seem all right. Grace was always soingenious.... Oh, there's the train--good-by, darling! Be a good girl!"

Joy was aghast. 

"_Grandmother!_" she began. "Oh, Grandmother. I have to tellyou! ... I--oh, John, tell her! I can't go! I--"

She turned to Hewitt despairingly. But he had not been listening: hehad been watching the argument between Philip and the baggageman. 

"Hurry, Joy, train's coming, " was all he said, and caught her arm, whisking her aboard. 

She pulled back, but that made no difference. He had her establishedin a seat, with what Phyllis called his "genial medical relentlessness, "in spite of her appeals. 

"But I _can't_ go!" she protested weakly from her seat, as thetrain pulled out of the station. 

"But, you see, you have, " was John's placidly unanswerable reply, ashe stowed his light overcoat on the rack above them and laid hercoat over that with maddening precision. He smiled at herprotectingly. 

"Why, my dear child, what made you lose your nerve that way at thelast minute?"

Then Joy understood that he had not heard the blow fall. 

If it had been anybody but John she would have been much moreembarrassed than she was, but by now she had come unconsciously tofeel that when things went wrong John was the natural person to cometo. He could always help her through them. 

"Grandmother told me--" she began, then stopped. It was pretty hardto tell, after all. 

"Go on, " he told her encouragingly. "Grandmother told you what?"

"She told me that she wrote your mother, and your mother said--shesaid she wished we'd told her; but, anyway, she's sent outinvitations for a big party--to meet _me_!"

It all came with a rush. She didn't dare to meet John's eyes aftershe had said it. 

She heard his long, low whistle of astonishment, scarcely suppressedin time, and a lower, but quite as fervent, "Great Scott!" and thensilence. It was not for a full minute that she dared look in thedirection of his chair, which he had swung away when she had toldhim. She gave one quick glance, then another longer one. She couldnot see his face, but his shoulders were shaking.... Had it movedhim so?

Joy was used, at Grandfather's, to hear of people being "moved. "

"I didn't think John was the kind of a man to have emotions outsideof him that way, " she thought a little disappointedly, "but Isuppose an awful thing like this--"

About then he turned himself toward her. He was laughing!

"Do you think it's funny?" she demanded. 

"Funny?" replied John Hewitt, still laughing desperately, and tryingquite as desperately to do it quietly enough to prevent the descentof the others, wanting to know what he was laughing at. "I thinkit's one of the funniest things that ever happened. Talk aboutNemesis--if ever a punishment fitted the crime, this does!"

Joy sighed relievedly. At least, he wasn't being angry about it, andhe might very well have been. She glanced out the window, which, like the windows of most New England cars in summer, had evidentlybeen closed ever since John Hancock died, and glued in place. Thensuddenly the thing struck her as funny, too. They were in for it, and by their own act. She began to laugh with him, quite forgettingthat she had more explanations before her, and as a really honorablegirl had no alternative but going back to Grandmother with her sinson her head. 

"Oh, it _is_ ridiculous, " she gasped. "I feel as if I'dkidnapped you and couldn't dispose of you.... We really must stoplaughing, or the others will come down on us to know what we'relaughing at. "

"You won't be able to dispose of me till the visit's over, at anyrate, " John answered her, sobering a little. "My mother and yourgrandmother have settled that for us effectually. "

Joy sat bolt upright and faced him. 

"You mean you're going to let it go on?"

"Why, of course I'm going to let it go on, " said hematter-of-factly. "What else can we do about it?"

Joy's heart gave a spring of happiness. She wouldn't miss her visit, after all!

"We can find out that we don't like each other, and break off the dayyou go home. I'll come back from the train very sad, " he told her. 

"Thank you _very_ much, " she said happily. "I thought I wasgoing to have to confess to every one and go back to Grandmother. I'm very glad I needn't. "

"You poor kiddie!" he said, as he had said the first time he mether. "Well, on this particular point all you have to do is rememberwhat Beatrice Fairfax says, 'Never explain and never confess, andyou'll be respected and admired by all. '"

"It sounds like getting admiration and respect under falsepretenses, " Joy answered doubtfully. But she dimpled as she said itand looked up sideways at John under her black eyelashes. 

The effect was so unexpected and pretty that it set John wonderingwhy she didn't do it oftener. Suddenly a probable reason dawned onhim. When John Hewitt discovered anything wrong it was his prompthabit to right it, and he did so now. 

"See here, child, I can't have you being afraid of me, " he saidperemptorily. "When I told you I was a trial fianc�, I didn't meanthat I was to be less of a fianc� than a trial. If we're going to betheoretically engaged for a month, we'll have to be friends, atleast, and friends trust each other, and know they can ask eachother to do anything they want. They know, too, that they never needbe afraid of either being angry at the other. "

"Then I'm to take it for granted that you feel as friendly toward meas I do toward you?" she asked. 

"Why, naturally, " he answered. "That's friendship. "

"It sounds much nicer than anything I ever heard about in my life, "said Joy enthusiastically. "But--are you sure I'm not the one that'sgoing to be more of a trial than a fianc�? I--I don't want to be abother, you know. "

"If you are, I'll tell you, " he promised. 

"All right, " said Joy contentedly, "and I promise not to have myfeelings hurt a bit. "

She felt quite unafraid of him by now, as he had intended, for theyhad been talking together as if they were exactly the same age--or, rather, Joy thought, as if nobody had any age at all. 

"Do you know, " she told him confidentially, "I _did_ want alover, back there at home. A real one, I mean. I saw a girl withone, and you could tell there wasn't anything on earth so nice asbeing lovers. But this is lots better--all the nice part of it andnone of the stupid part--for I suppose they were going to bemarried. "

John looked at her curiously. 

"Joy, did you never have a friend of your own age, or any companionsbut those old people of yours?"

She shook her head, smiling. 

"Never any. "

"That accounts for you, I suppose, " said he with a sigh, whichpuzzled Joy very much. She had accepted as gospel John's order notto be afraid of him; and she was talking to him as if he wereconfidant, father and sister, all in one. That it might be treatmenta very attractive man wasn't used to never dawned on her, becauseshe had nothing to check up by. 

"Do I need accounting for?" she inquired, with another of thesidelong smiling glances he approved of. 

She really wanted to know, but she was so contented with life as itwas then that she did not feel particularly distressed over it. Hertrial lover took another look at her and decided that perhaps shedidn't need to be accounted for, after all. She was wearing thelittle golden-brown suit she clung to, with its little cap to match, and her cheeks were flushed with the heat of that September day. Itwas as interesting to watch her develop one and another little way, he decided, as it would have been to observe an intelligent child. 

That there was some slight difference in his mind between her and abona fide intelligent child was proved by that fact that he wouldjust as lief that Philip had not interrupted them just then: thoughthe interruption was done with all Philip's natural grace. 

He was mussed and rather dusty, and the front of his blue OliverTwist suit bore an unmistakable paw-mark on its bosom. 

"John, " he said earnestly, "if you don't hurry, Foxy will have beenalone quite a while. Mother says I mustn't stay wiv him any longer, and he doesn't seem to think brakemen is people a bit. "

Joy gave a little gurgle of laughter. It reminded her of Mr. JamesArthur Gosport and how he loved brakemen. How shocked he would havebeen at the pedigreed Foxy! She began to tell John about it, thenstopped herself. 

"But you want to go and sit with the dog, " she said, as they laughedover it; for Philip was standing, silent and reproachful, till Johnshould do his duty by the beloved animal. 

"I don't want to a bit, " said John frankly, "but I suppose myreputation with Foxy demands it. "

He rose reluctantly, quoting from the "Bab Ballads":

 "_My own convenience counts as_ nil: _It is my duty, and I will!_"

"Come out on the rear platform, " said Phyllis, joining Joy as shestared after the tall figure and the little one passing out of thecar. "It's the only cool spot. I suppose in the smoking car, whereAllan is, the windows are open, but this place is too hot to livein. I wonder if there's any blue-law that forbids opening chair-carwindows. I always forget to tell Allan to get day-coach tickets onthis line, and it never occurs to him to do anything but perish inthe parlor-cars, having been brought up in the lap of luxury. So wesuffer on. "

Phyllis laughed as she led the way out to the little platform, andheld to the rail with one hand, letting the wind sweep past her. Shelooked like anything but suffering. 

"Oh, isn't it one of the loveliest days that ever was!" shebreathed, turning to Joy. 

"It's one of the loveliest times that ever was, " Joy respondedimpulsively. "Oh, Phyllis, I'm so glad I met you!"

"Glad you met John, dear child, " Phyllis corrected. "So am I. Glad_I_ met _you_, I mean, and particularly glad John did. We wereall _so_ afraid he was going to marry Gail Maddox. I think he wasgetting a little worried over it himself!"

Joy looked up, startled. 

"You mean--he wasn't really thinking of marrying some one else?"

Phyllis anchored her hat more securely, and smiled down out of thewhite cloud her veil made around the rose and blue and gold of her. 

"He seems principally to have been thinking, in his monumental silence, of marrying you. But Gail was certainly 'spoken of for the position. '"

"Gail!" Joy murmured worriedly. 

She had never thought of this complication. 

Phyllis nodded. 

"She's as nice as possible, but everybody could see how fearfullythey wouldn't fit--everybody, that is, but the parties concerned. Gail's one of those people who are always dashing about aimlessly, doing something because she didn't do it yesterday. And John's thekind of a man--well, you know the kind he is: dependable, authoritative, angel-kind, and deadly clever. He's not a _bit_like Allan, " said Allan's wife, as if Allan were the standardpattern for men. "If I didn't adore Allan too much to be so mean, Icould fool him a dozen times a day, and so could any woman. If itmeant John's life I don't believe I could hoodwink him, any morethan I could another girl. I suppose it comes from diagnosing cases. "

"We're almost at Wallraven, Phyllis, " Allan spoke from behind thembefore Joy could answer. "Better come in and get your caravan in order. "

"Coming, " said Phyllis simply; and went in to assort her babies. 

But Joy had seen the look that passed between the husband and wife, and it made her a little lonely for the moment. You could see thatthey belonged to each other, and how glad they were of it. AndJoy--well, she was only somebody's pretend-sweetheart. Maybe nobodywould ever look at her that way... 

She clasped her hands together as she always did when she thoughthard, and felt the touch of her wishing ring. Her heart lightened, for she remembered how kind John had been to her. Surely he couldn'tpretend to be so pleased about it if he weren't. And if there wasanother girl, why, she was only having John borrowed from her. 

"It won't hurt her a bit, " Joy decided. "And if she really isflyaway, and all that, maybe a little anxiety will be good for her. "

In Joy's heart, too far down for her to find it herself, was a tinybit of defiance, and the old, old feeling, "If she wants him, lether come and get him!" But she wasn't in the least aware of it, andwent back to her seat feeling like an angel. 

She found there John, looking perfectly content with life, gatheringup her belongings and his, and obviously expecting to make her hiscomplete care. When John Hewitt took charge of anybody they weretaken charge of all over; not fussily or so it was a nuisance, butjust comfortably, so that every care vanished. 

They got off the train, into the peace and spaciousness of opencountry. The station was behind them, a little, neat stone stationlike a toy dropped down on the old-fashioned New Englandcountryside. Joy caught her skirts clear of the car steps anddescended, John guarding her. She smiled down at him before shesprang to the platform, and he smiled up at her. To any one not inthe secret they seemed like as real lovers as possible. 

As Joy stood there, waiting a moment, she felt arms coming round herfrom behind, and, turning, startled, she found herself in theembrace of a tall, white-haired woman with John's kind steel-grayeyes and an impulsiveness not at all like John's. 

"This is the first chance I have ever had to kiss my daughter, " saida swift, soft-noted voice--not at all like an old lady's--"and I'vebeen wanting one for thirty-odd years. I'm John's mother, my dear, and I forgive you both on the spot for keeping me in the dark. Iknow just why John did it. He didn't want parties given over him, ashe's always saying. But I've foiled him completely... My dear, he'spicked me out exactly the sort of thing I wanted!"

Joy kissed Mrs. Hewitt back willingly. This was just the kind ofmother she had always wanted, too. She spoke out what she thought, before she thought. 

"Are you Grandmother's Grace Carpenter?" she asked. "Why, you're nota bit old!"

Her mother-in-law laughed as she turned to greet her son, stillholding fast to one of Joy's hands. 

"I know you don't like being kissed in public, Johnny, but you knowI always do it, anyhow. You good boy, to actually tell her I likedhaving my first name used! He never would do it, you know, Joy, dear. Phyllis and Allan--where are those two? I have their motor, commandeered it to come down in. Mine had the fender bitten off bythe village trolley last night. Oh--they're putting in the children. "

Joy had scarcely time to answer, but she let her mother-in-law sweepher along, and install her in the motor between herself and John, who was holding Angela because Angela insisted. 

As they sped down the country lanes Joy sat very still, trying toforget that this happy time would ever stop. Giving up John was badenough--maybe he would be friends with her afterwards if she waslucky--but giving up John's mother seemed almost too much to ask ofany girl. 

"I'm _sure_ I'll never happen on a mother-in-law like thisagain!" thought Joy. 

"How's Gail, Mother?" she heard John ask quite calmly as they turneddown another leafy lane. 

She flushed up, deep rose-red, as she listened for the answer. 

"Just back from the city, and more rambunctious than ever, " saidMrs. Hewitt briskly. 

Joy clasped her hands over the wishing ring and lookedoff--anywhere--not to look at John or his mother. And in her anxietyshe heard a husky whisper from the seat behind her, where Viola wasrestraining Philip and Foxy from jumping out into the landscape. 

"Don't you fear, honey. Mighty hard work getting a man away from ared-haired girl!"

Where her courage came from Joy did not know. But as she heard Violashe sat up straight. And a light came into her eyes--the light of battle. 

CHAPTER SIX

ROSE GARDENS AND MEN

"You can come in by the front door, if you'd rather be grand, "offered Phyllis, "but the only door we can coax the car anywherenear is the side one. And we had to cut that through. "

They halted at a contented-looking old Colonial house set far backfrom the country road. The grounds were large, and one whole side ofthem was shut off from the road by a high Sleeping Beauty sort ofhedge that hid everything except one inquisitive red rose, stickingits head out between masses of box. The other side of the house wassurrounded by a green lawn set with tall old trees. A tennis-courtshowed at the back, and closer by a red-banded croquet-mallet laybeneath a tree, with a red ball nestling to it. The whole placelooked sunny and leisurely and happy and spacious and welcoming. 

As the motor, after teetering itself cautiously down a side paththat had never in the world been made for motors, stopped, the sidedoor Phyllis had referred to opened, and a beautiful white wolfhoundsprang out and into the car, where he was welcomed tumultuously bythe children, and greeted without undue enthusiasm by Foxy, whosedisposition had not yet recovered from the baggage car. 

Every one piled out, and Philip and the dogs raced back into thehouse and to the greetings of a couple of half-visible colored servants. 

Phyllis, alighting more leisurely, turned, with the graciousnessthat was peculiarly hers, and smiled from the doorway at Joy. 

"Welcome, my dear, " she said. "And I hope you'll never go away fromour village for good again!"

Joy's throat caught a little. She was only a pretender, a littlevisitor in this Abode of the Blest. But, anyway, the Abode of theBlest was here for a while, and she in it. She looked from Phyllis'kind, lovely face in the doorway to John, beside her on the step. His face was as kind as Phyllis' and as handsome in its grave way. For a month she was going to be happy with them, and she could saveup enough happiness, maybe, for remembering through years of life inthe twilight city house. She was here, and loved and free and young. Lots of people never got any happiness at all. Joy knew that fromthe way she heard them talk. They seemed to mean it usually. A wholemonth, then, was lots to the good. She would take every bit therewas of it--yes, love and all!

She put her two hands in Phyllis' impulsively, and kissed her asthey went in. The others followed. 

Philip, gamboling rejoicingly about the house with his dear dogs, bounded toward her as she made her way toward the stairs. 

"I got something to ask you when you get your face washed and comedown, " he called to her. "'Member to 'mind me. "

"All right!" she called back heedlessly, as she followed Mrs. Hewittup the wide, shallow-stepped staircase. Mrs. Hewitt seemed to haveconstituted herself a committee of welcome, and was accepted on allsides as being about to stay to dinner. 

All the rooms in the house were sunny, and at the window of Joy'sthere tapped a spray from a rambler rose. There was so much to seeand hear and smell out the window that Joy had a hard time gettingdressed. She put back on her gray silk. Grandmother had packed allthe pretty picture-frocks for her, but she didn't feel as if shecould stand wearing any of them yet; but she was beginning to thinkthat these people supposed she had only two dresses. To tell thetruth, she was getting a little tired of wearing first the gray andthen the brown and then doing it over again. But she pinned thespray of roses that had tempted fate by sticking itself in herwindow, on the bosom of her dress, and ran down. 

She found that, much as she had looked out the window, she wasearlier than the others. Phyllis and Allan were nowhere to be seen, and Mrs. Hewitt she knew was above stairs yet, because she had heardher singing to herself as she moved about the next room. Philip, exempted from an early bedtime by special dispensation and theknowledge that he wouldn't go to sleep this first night, anyway, wasbeing wisely unobtrusive in a corner of the room, spelling out afairy-book. The only other occupant of the room, Joy saw, was hertrial fianc�. 

It was the first time she had been all alone with John since theirtalk in the wood. He had been sitting on the floor by Philip, explaining to him some necessary fact about the domestic habits ofdragons. He made a motion to rise when she came in. 

"Oh, please don't get up!" she begged. 

She had been embarrassed when she first saw him, the only occupantof the room (for small children are most mistakenly supposed not tocount); but, curiously enough, when she saw that he was a littleembarrassed, too, her own courage rose, and she came over quite ather ease, sinking down at the other side of the convenient Philip. 

"You asked me to remind you of something you wanted to say to me, Philip, " she said. 

Philip looked up from his book amiably. 

"Yes, there was, " he said encouragingly, if somewhat vaguely. "Thankyou for aminding me. I just wanted to find out--if you're sure youdon't mind telling me--why you never make a fuss over John. Youknow, people that marry each other do. I saw two once--ever so longago, but I know they did. Lots. "

Joy blushed, but when you've come to Arcady for only a month, and itreally doesn't matter afterwards, you're very irresponsible. 

"Why, you see, Philip, the girl isn't supposed to start making thefusses. You'd better ask John about it--some other time--" she addedhastily. 

But as she spoke she had to hold her lips hard to keep themstraight, and looked out of the corner of one black-lashed eye atJohn, sitting at his ease on Philip's other side. She had neverfound him at a loss, and she desired, most unfairly, to see what hewould do with this impertinence. 

"Why don't you, John?" inquired Philip inevitably. 

Joy had been so sure John would get out of it with his usualimmovable poise that her own remarks hadn't occurred to her in thelight of provocation. But Dr. Hewitt evidently looked at it thatway, because what he said was quite terrifyingly simple:

"If you'll move a little, Philip. "

Philip courteously shoved himself back on the floor from betweenthem, and for the second time in her life Joy found herself beingkissed by a man. 

"I didn't mean that you really _had_ to start things rightaway, " she heard Philip, dimly, explaining in a tone of courteousapology, "only when you wanted to, you know. "

"It's all right, old fellow, " John assured him kindly. "I didn't mind. "

It was, indeed, quite a brotherly kiss, but even at that--and in theresigned way John had explained it there was little room for agirl's being excited--Joy felt a little dazed. But she didn't intendto let John see it. She had rented him for the month, so to speak, and, though it hadn't specially occurred to her, probably this sortof thing was all in the month's work... It was as near as thewishing ring could bring her to a real lover... 

She raised her surprising eyes to him demurely. 

"Thank you, " she said with all apparent gratitude. "It was sweet ofyou to do that for Philip. "

There was no answer possible to that, as far as she knew. 

"You needn't say anything, " she went on placidly, but with thatspark of excited mischief still in her eyes. "Do you know, Dr. Hewitt, I'm getting to be much less afraid of you. You certainlyhave the _kindest_ heart----"

Here the worm turned. He also got up off the floor, and stood overher, toweringly, as he answered. 

"I haven't a kind heart one bit, " he said--and was there a certainsharpness in his voice?--"kissing you isn't at all hard--"

"Compared to lots of messy things you have to do in the exercise ofyour profession?" finished Joy contemplatively, cocking her bronzehead on one side, and looking up at him sweetly, her arms around herknees. "_I_ know. I've read about them--I've read a lot. Youhave to give people blood out of your strong, bared right arm, andcure them of diphtheria, and scrub floors--oh, no, it's the nursesdo that. 'A physician's life is _not_ a happy one!'"

She laughed, as he stood severely there above her. She had notrealized before that she knew how to tease anybody, least of all thedemigod who had rescued her from the shadows of the reception-hallsat home. But his kissing her had done something to her--it alwaysseemed to, she reflected--and his matter-of-fact explanation of ithad exasperated her to the point of wanting to pay him back. 

"He might at least have _said_ he liked it, " she told herselfpetulantly. And then after she had laughed, she remembered that ifhe did anything too much--if she went too far--he could speak theword and send her flying out of fairyland... But he wouldn't dothat. He was ever so much too noble, thank goodness!

"People who are noble, really are a comfort, " she said cheerfully, aloud. "Dr. Hewitt, if you don't mind, my spray of roses got caughtin your coat. Of course, if you really want it----"

He detached the spray with something like a jerk and dropped it downinto her lap. 

Really you could hardly blame a man for being annoyed a bit. To havea gentle, grateful little girl you had nobly helped, suddenly perkup and turn into something quite different--something dimpling andimpish and provocative--would be disturbing to nearly any man. 

John had no means of knowing, of course, that Phyllis had saidanything about Gail Maddox, though he might have remembered, atleast, that Joy had red hair and was likely to have a little of thefire that goes with it. He looked at her all over again, as if therewas somebody else sitting on the floor where little Joy Havenith hadbeen--somebody rather surprising. He began to wonder about thisyoung person, with a distinct interest. 

"We've found her!" announced Mrs. Hewitt, much to the surprise ofthe three in the dining-room, who had not lost anything. 

She and Phyllis came in with a triumphant air, and Angela. Angelawas in Phyllis' arms, and adorably asleep, with her goldy-brownlashes on her pink cheeks and a look of angelhood in every round, relaxed curve. 

"Found her?" inquired John, turning from his position looking downat Joy. "Who was lost?"

"Do you mean to say, " Phyllis demanded, "that you didn't know we'dlost Angela for the last half-hour?"

"Well, she got lost so very--er--noiselessly, " apologized John, "that it escaped our attention. But she doesn't look as if it hadworn on her much, " he added, brightening. 

"It didn't, " Phyllis answered with an irrepressible laugh, "it woreon us! I expect Allan's still hunting the grounds over for her--heand the gardener. The gardener always uses a wooden rake with apillow tied to its teeth. "

Allan entered at one of the long windows as she spoke. 

"Oh, you found her, " he remarked. "I thought she wouldn't have beenout of the house. "

"Where was she?" demanded Philip, John, and Joy in a polite chorus, surrounding the center of attraction, who slept on. 

"Under the guest-room bed, " said Phyllis, putting her daughter downon a couch as she spoke, and going over to the table, where shestruck the bell for soup, and sat down. 

"I crawled under, " interjected Mrs. Hewitt proudly, looking everyinch a duchess as she said it, "and there she was! She had eatenevery bit of cheese from the set mousetrap under it; I forgot totell you, Phyllis. "

"Good gracious!" said Phyllis as the rest sat down about thetable.... "Well, if it hasn't hurt her so far, it mayn't at all. I'mnot going to wake her out of a seraphic slumber like that just toask her if she has a pain. "

"You don't let _me_ eat cheese at night, " said Philipaggrievedly here, looking up from his plate. "And I knew thatmousetrap was there, and I never touched a scrap of it. It was setthe day we went away from the chickenpox. "

"You're a very high-minded child, " said his father soothingly. 

"And there's charlotte russe for your dessert, Master Philip, "whispered the waitress: at which Philip forgot his wrongs andbrightened visibly. 

The meal went on rather silently after this, because everybody wasrather hungry. Philip grew drowsier and drowsier, till Viola stolein and led him away, "walking asleep. " The grown people went ontalking and laughing around the table. 

"With nobody to hush them so he could make a literary criticism, "Joy thought happily. 

Mrs. Hewitt tore herself away with obvious reluctance, about ten orso, taking John with her. After that Phyllis said that she wassleepy, but not to let that make anybody else feel they had to besleepy, too. Joy had been holding her eyelids up by main force forsome time, because she hadn't wanted to miss any of the talk andlaughter and delightful feeling of being grown up and in the midstof things. So she went up to bed, almost as drowsily as Philip hadbefore her. 

Just as she was on the point of dropping off to sleep, with the windblowing, flower-scented, across her face, she remembered somethingthat made her sit bolt upright in bed and think. There was going tobe a grand affair for her at Mrs. Hewitt's house the very nextnight, and she hadn't a blessed thing to wear! Nothing, that is, butfive art-frocks which she had determined in her heart never to wearagain. But--the wind among the trees was very soothing, and thewishing ring lay loose and heavy on her finger. 

"You'll look after it, " Joy murmured drowsily to the ring, and wentto sleep. 

Philip wakened her the next morning. He was very clean and rosy froma recent bath, and he was curled on the quilt at her feet, staringintently at her. 

"Did you know if you look hard at asleep folks' eyes they open?" heinquired affably. "You see they do. Yours did. Do you mind dogs onyour bed, or Angela?"

Philip was always so perfectly friendly that Joy was very much atease with him, which had never been her case before with children. But, then, she had never met any intimately before. She reached outa slim white arm from beneath the covers and pulled him down andkissed him--an operation which he bore with his usual politeness. 

"I love dogs, and Angela, " she told him. "And I don't mind them onthe bed a bit, if your mother doesn't. "

Philip assumed a convenient deafness as to the last clause, andwhistled, whereat his slaves, Ivan, the white wolfhound, Foxy, andAngela, all appeared joyously and dashed across the floor, scrambling enthusiastically up on the white counterpane. They werealmost too many for one three-quarters bed, and Joy, on whom most ofthe happy family was sitting, could have wished the dogs a littlelighter, even while she gave Angela a hand up. Angela scrambled upwith intense earnestness and loud little pantings, and, finallyseated on a pillow in triumph, smiled broadly and charmingly, hergolden head cocked to one side. 

"Doggies went garden, 'is morning, " she informed Joy, still smilingenchantingly. "Oo--a _big_ hole!"

"She means they dug a hole, " Philip translated. "You can't alwaystell when she's making up things that aren't so; but this is. It'sthere now, with worms in it, and a rosebush that fell in. But Iwashed all their paws in the bathtub, " he added hastily, "andAngela's frock-front. Didn't I, Angel?"

"Fock-front!" said Angela, beaming and spatting herself happily inthe region named. 

Joy cast a wild look around her. Foxy lay across her at her waistline--yes, there were paw-marks all over the counterpane, and Ivan, who seemed to have had more than his share of the cleansing, showeda distinct arc of wetness where his long body had lain at the footof the bed. 

Philip, following her eyes, slid unobtrusively from her side. 

"I--I just thought you'd like to see the dogs, and the baby, " heexplained. "Most people do. Mother sent me to tell you it was nineo'clock, and would you like to get up?"

He made no further references to paws or washings. He merelywhistled again to Angela and the dogs, who were reluctant, butstruggled obediently down from the counterpane, leaving, alas, distinct traces in all directions. 

"If you frow the covers back nobody'll see anything, " he hinted fromthe doorway, and was gone. 

Joy did not take his hint. Instead, she pulled the counterpane offbodily and put it in the window to sun, and then went on dressing. Things were so cheerful and sunny and funny in this house. 

"Oh, John was right, " she thought buoyantly, as she braided herropes of hair. "Things do come right if you hope and wish and_know_ they will!"

The glitter of the ring caught her eyes, in the mirror, between thebronze ripples of hair, and it reminded her of one thing that was_not_ settled: her frock for the evening, this wonderful eveningwhen a party was going to be given for just her!

She asked Phyllis about it as soon as breakfast--a somewhat riotousmeal--was over. She was a little diffident, because she was surethat any sane grown-up person who was told that there were five goodfrocks you hated would tell you you should wear them. But Phyllisonly suggested bringing them down and looking them over. So they did. 

"They all have queer things all over them that nobody else wearsexcept illustrations in historical novels, and they're all of verygood materials, " said Joy sadly, laying them out one by one. "Andthere isn't one I don't hate to wear. But I never could explain thatto Grandmother, of course. "

She looked at Phyllis with a wistful hope in her eyes. Phyllisthoughtfully lifted the yellow satin skirts of Joy's pet detestation. 

"This is a lovely material, " she said thoughtfully. "Is it the coloryou don't like?"

"N-no, " Joy answered doubtfully. "It's the make. " Then she burst outpassionately. "I want to look frisky!" she declared. "I want to bedressed the way John's used to seeing girls. I--I want to look justas pretty and like folks as Gail Maddox!"

She checked herself, flushing and biting her lip. She hadn't meantto say that!

But Phyllis took it beautifully. 

"No reason why you shouldn't look just exactly like folks, " shesoothed. "This is lovely, too, this silver tissue. Goodness, what alot of material there is in these angel sleeves!"... She held it upconsideringly... "Wait a minute, Joy, I think I read my titleclear. " She ran out of the room, coming back in a moment with alife-size dress-form in her arms, which she set down. 

"Here's Dora, the dress-model, " she said cheerfully. "She adjusts. "In proof she began to screw Dora down and in to requiredproportions, measuring her by Joy, who watched operations withfascinated eyes. 

"I never knew you could sew, " she said. 

"My father was a country minister, " Mrs. Harrington explained, flinging the green frock, inside out, over the steely shoulders ofDora, the dress-frame. "I cook very nicely, if I do say it myself, and till I was seventeen I did every bit of my own sewing. "

"And were you married at seventeen?"

"No, " Phyllis answered, stopping a moment from her pinnings andspeaking more gravely. "My father died then, and I went to work. Ihadn't time to sew after that--I bought ready-made things. So when I_was_ married--that was a long seven years afterwards--I didhave such lovely times buying organdies and laces and things andcutting them out and making them! That was the summer Allan wasgetting well. "

She stared off at the wall for a moment, as she knelt up against thegreen satin. "That was the loveliest summer I ever had--exceptingevery one since. "

She laughed a little, then prevented herself from further speech byputting a frieze of pins in her mouth and beginning to do somethingwith the dress with them, one by one. 

"Do you mind cutting into this?" she asked when that row was gone. 

"The more the better!" said Joy with enthusiasm. 

"It will make a stunning frock, with the silver net draped over thepale-green satin... M'm. That silver iridescent girdle on the otherdress--the violet--can I have that, too?"

Joy ripped and handed with tremulously eager hands, while Phyllisswiftly cut away the sleeves of the green dress and slashed a_d�colletage_, and draped the net over it and pinned on thegirdle. 

"Try if you can get into that without being scratched, " she invited, lifting the frock gingerly off Dora and dropping it over Joy. Thenshe wheeled her around to where she could see her reflection in thetall pier-glass between the windows. 

"Of course, that's rough, " she told her; "but what do you think ofit, generally? Are there any changes you want?"

"Oh, not one!" Joy replied ecstatically, regarding the slim littlegreen and silver figure in the glass. 

"It needs to be shorter, " meditated Phyllis aloud, and fell topinning it up to the proper shortness. 

Joy continued to look at it rapturously. It had been a straight, long gown, and all Phyllis had needed to do was to drape it with thenet ripped from the other dress and shorten and cut it intofashionableness. It was charming--springlike and becoming, and, bestof all, strictly up to date!

"Don't you think you'll feel equal to being the feature of thereception in that?" demanded Phyllis. "I certainly should in yourplace.... That is, if you have silver slippers. "

"I have, and I think I do, " said Joy gravely. 

"Then I'll hand this over to Viola to put the finishing stitches in. Look out the window--do you see anything familiar coming up the path?"

Joy, in her pinned finery, looked, then snatched her clothes fromthe sofa, where they lay in state, and ran upstairs. John was comingalong the path, and she didn't want him to know about her frock tillit was all done. 

She came down a moment later, brown-clad and demure, and looking soyoung and harmless that any man would have been sure his tilt withher, of the night before, was a dream. She greeted him shyly, withher lashes down. 

"Isn't--isn't it a little early for you to be away from yourpatients?" she asked. 

"My morning office hours are just over, and I'm on my way to makesome calls in the car. Want to come?" he asked. 

"Thank you, " said Joy. "That is, if you don't think I'd be in the way. "

"If I thought you would be I wouldn't have asked you, " said Dr. Hewitt matter-of-factly. "So run along and pin up your hair, child. I don't want people to think I've been robbing the cradle. "

He smiled at her in a brotherly fashion, and Joy began to feel alittle ashamed of herself for trying to tease him, even if he didn'tseem to see it. She liked him so much, apart from any other feeling, that it was hard to be anything but nice and grateful to him--exceptwhen she thought of Gail Maddox. 

"It just takes two hairpins, " she informed him, coming over to himand holding up the ends of her braids. "You wind it round and pin itbehind. "

He took the hairpins and the braids, and quite deftly did as sheasked him to. 

"Hurry, my dear, " he said authoritatively, yet with a certain noteof affection in his voice that made Joy feel very comforted. As sheflew to get her cap her heart gave a queer, pleasant sort ofturn-over. His voice made her feel so belonging. 

She sang as she went, and Phyllis and John smiled across at eachother, as over a dear child. 

"Oh, John, I'm so glad you chose such a darling!" said Phylliswarmly, putting her hands on his shoulders, as "A Perfect Day"floated back to them from above. "You know, Johnny, even the best ofmen do marry so--so surprisingly. She might have been--"

"'She might have been a Roosian, or French or Dutch or Proosian, '"he quoted frivolously. "Well, Phyllis, I'm glad you approve ofmy--ah--choice. How long do you think it will take it to get its hat on?"

"Oh, you can laugh, " Phyllis answered him, "but I know you're proudof her, just the same. "

"Well, she's creditable, " said John unemotionally, but with a littlesmile beginning to show at the corners of his mouth. 

"I'm ready!" called Joy breathlessly from the top of the stairs, andran down tumultuously. "Oh, Phyllis, can't I have some roses to taketo John's sick people--the poor ones? I want them to like me!"

"Help yourself. " Phyllis granted promptly. 

"Not a bit of it. " John contradicted her coolly. "You must teachthem to love you for yourself alone. Come on, kiddie. "

He tucked her hand under his arm and hurried her, laughing, down thedrive. Phyllis ran after them with a too-late-remembered motor-veil, which she managed to convey into the car by the risky method oftying a stone in it and throwing the stone. It just missed John, andJoy nearly fell out, turning to wave thanks for it. 

John threw his arm around her hastily to hold her in, and so Phyllissaw them out of sight. 

"You needn't do that any more, " observed Joy as they sped on. "There's nobody can see us now. "

"That, with most people, " observed John amusedly, "would be a reasonfor continuing to do it. "

"M'm, " said Joy in assent, as he removed his arm. "You see, " shewent on rather apologetically, "I never was engaged before, not eventhis much, and I probably shan't always do it right.... Do you thinkI shall?"

"Very well, indeed, " answered her trial fianc� dryly. "I have alwaysheard that when you were engaged to a girl she took the opportunityto torment you as thoroughly as possible. But I haven't any morepersonal experience of the holy bonds of affiancement than you have, my dear child. "

Joy's heart suddenly reproached her for having teased such a kindperson as this at all. She clutched his arm with such impulsivesuddenness that the car almost left the road. 

"John, I do want to be good to you! And I want to be as littletrouble as possible! And I want to have you _like_ me . . . Andrespect and admire me just the way that--"

"Just what way?" he inquired more gently. 

"Never mind what way, " Joy told him, coloring hotly. "Only if you'llplease tell me what to do--it's hard to say, but I'll try to explainwhat I mean. Haven't you always thought, just a little, when youhadn't anything else to think of, that sometime there'd be--a girl?"

John Hewitt looked straight before him for a moment, as the car spedsmoothly down a country lane. Then he nodded. 

"Yes, " he said, and no more. He was not given to talking about hisfeelings. 

"And you planned her--a little--didn't you?" Joy persisted. "I knowyou did--people do. Well... John--couldn't you tell me a little bitabout how _She_ was going to act--so I could act that way? Itwould be more comfortable for you, I think. And I--I want to. "

For a moment she thought he was not going to answer at all. Helooked down at her silently. Then he spoke, a little abruptly. 

"I never planned her in much detail, " he said. "She always seemed tobe dressed in blue, or in white, and her hair was parted. She seemedto be connected with a fireplace, " he ended inconsequently, andlaughed a little at himself. "You see, I'm not an imaginative person. "

"I only wanted you to let me play I was that girl for this month, "Joy answered desperately, with her eyes down, speaking very low. 

John, who had been staring down at her in a half-puzzled way, lookedas if he was suddenly reassured that she was only a little girl, after all--not a provoking firefly, but a wistful, unconscious childwho only wanted to do her best to please. 

"I want to be good, " she said meekly. 

"So you are, " said John warmly. 

"Am I?" she asked softly, looking up at him with wide blue eyes. 

And--John was getting to do that sort of thing quite unnecessarilyoften--he laughed and bent toward her with every intention ofkissing her again. 

"Oh, that wasn't what I meant, " she assured him. Then her moodsuddenly changed. "John, you have what one of Grandfather'sanarchist friends called a real from-gold heart. But you don't haveto do that unless... "

"Unless what?" demanded John, quite coldly removing all of himselfthat he could from her half of the seat. 

Joy's eyes fixed themselves on the distant scenery--excellentscenery, all autumn reds and yellows. 

"I'll tell you the 'unless' tomorrow morning, " she answered himsweetly, but none the less firmly. 

"You are playing with me, Joy, I think, " John answered in his mostdiagnostic tone--the exact tone in which he would have said, "Youhave smallpox, Joy, I think. "

"Why, yes, " she answered him demurely. "We were to, weren't we?"

"You'll have to wait out here a while; I have a case here, " he toldher in a voice which held a note of endurance. 

She sat quite still, after suppressing a faint impulse to ask him ifshe should hold the motor. She leaned back and gave herself up tothe country sights and sounds and scents, gently ecstatic. 

"Oh, Aunt Lucilla!" she was saying inwardly. "You'd be proud of me!"

Joy was actually playing--he had said so--playing with a man!

CHAPTER SEVEN

A VERY CHARMING GENTLEMAN

"You look lovely, " said Phyllis heartily. She herself was radiant ina rose satin that made her look, as her small son remarkedecstatically, like a valentine. "Mustn't it be horrid to be a manand always wear the same black clothes?"

"M'yes, " answered Joy absent-mindedly. "If I look as nice as you doI don't have to worry. But--but will Gail Maddox be very muchdressed?"

"She will, " replied Phyllis decisively. "If I know Gail, she'll looklike a Christmas tree. But don't let that weigh on your mind, dearchild. Nobody could look better than you do, if Viola and I didcombine two of your frocks into one. Could they, Viola?"

The colored girl, who had been doing the masses of Joy's bronze hairwhile her mistress, kneeling by the dressing-table, put thefinishing touches to some frock-draperies, giggled. 

"Well dressed? Why, Miss Joy looks like the vampire in the movie show!"

"Final praise!" sighed Phyllis. "You never told me I was as welldressed as a vampire, Viola. "

"You couldn't live up to vampiring, nohow, Mrs. Harrington, nor youshouldn't want to, not with that goldy hair of yours, " said Violareprovingly. 

"Virtue is thrust upon me, in other words, " said Phyllis. "Evidentlyyou have possibilities of crime, Joy!"

They went down, laughing, to where Allan and John were waiting forthem, Allan walking the floor in his usual quick, boyish fashion, John sitting at a table reading, by way of economizing time. Being adoctor, he had a way of snapping up odds and ends of time and doingthings with them. 

He looked up from his paper as Joy's light footsteps pattered downthe stairs, and continued to look at her. The green and silver ofher gown glittered and flowed around her. Viola had done her hairhigh, and the wealth of it showed more, even, than when it was downin its accustomed braids. Her surprising black brows and lashes, with the innocence of her blue eyes, and the half-wistful, half-daring expression she had, made her seem a combination ofsophistication and childishness such as John had never seen before. 

"Shall I do you credit?" she asked him softly over her shoulder, ashe held her wrap for her. 

Her heart beat hard as she said it. She felt as if she was goinginto open battle, and she wanted all the heartening she could get. 

"Tell me now that you like me better than you do Gail Maddox!" waswhat she wanted to say. But she knew she couldn't, not without beingthought a cat. "I can't get over finding motors scattered all overeverything!" was what she heard herself saying inconsequentlyinstead as they went out. She did not dare give him time to answerher first impulsive question. 

But he answered it just the same. 

"You do me great credit, my dear. I never knew you were quite sobeautiful. " He said it gravely, but none the less sincerely. "It'svery pleasant to remember that I have property rights to such acharming person. "

Property rights! Joy's heart gave a little warm jump. If he couldsay that--if he could even seem to forget that she was only rented, so to speak... 

Before she thought she had reached up and caught his hand in a warm, furtive grasp for a moment. She took it away again directly, but ithad comforted her to touch him. He was so strong and so _there_.... Also, Viola's words comforted her; if she looked like a vampire, why, maybe, with the aid of the wishing ring and Aunt Lucilla's ghost, she could live up to it. Having her hair done as high and her dresscut as low as anybody's also gave her courage. Altogether it was, if not a perfectly self-assured, at least a very poised-lookinglittle figure that came smiling into Mrs. Hewitt's embrace fromthe motor, with her lover close behind her, like a bodyguard. 

"You little angel! You look perfect!" said her mother-in-law-electrapturously. "And you match my lavender grandeur perfectly. That's asweet frock, Phyllis. Hurry down, girls, you want to have a littletime to rest before you have to stand up for years and receive. "

It was early still when they came down from the dressing-rooms, andno guests had arrived yet. So they settled themselves in thedining-room, informally, to wait and visit a little. 

"One has _no_ chance for fun with an earnest-minded son, " Mrs. Hewitt complained amiably. "This is the first doings of any sort Ihave ever had that John was even remotely connected with. A nicelittle daughter that would dance and flirt and turn the house upsidedown--that was what I was entitled to--and I got a brilliant youngphysician who specializes on the _os innominata_, or somethingequally thrilling! I sometimes wonder how he ever found time toannex you, Joy!"

Joy colored. It was a random shaft, but it caught her breath. Then--"He didn't, " she said gallantly. "I simply rubbed my ring andwished for him, and he came. "

"I'll be bound he didn't come hard, " said her _enfant terrible_of a prospective mother-in-law placidly. "Johnny, keep away fromthose cakes! They're for much, much later, and for your guests, notthe likes of you!"

"They are excellent. We need moral support in our ordeal, " returnedher son, sauntering up, with his usual dignity unimpaired by a plateof fancy cakes in each hand. "Never mind your cruel mother-in-law, Joy. Take a lot--take two!"

"I will, anyway, " interposed Allan placidly, reaching a long, unexpected brown hand over his friend's shoulder and securing three. "Phyllis and I need as much moral support as anybody. "

"Phyllis is the only one who is minding her manners, " Mrs. Hewittobserved with a firmness that she patently didn't mean in the least. "Phyllis, my dear, go get some of the sandwiches. We may as welllunch thoroughly. We have heaps of time before the 'gesses' gethere, anyway. "

They were all playing like a lot of children. Phyllis, flushed andlaughing, raided the kitchen with her husband and came back withmore kinds of sandwiches than Joy had known existed. They sat abouton cushions on the floor, because the chairs had been taken out fordancing later, and the floor waxed. Joy laughed with the rest, andlunched sumptuously on the cakes the guests ought to have had, andthought for the thousandth time what an ideal mother-in-law was hersat the moment, and how many of the people in the world were therealest of real folks, and how much like Christmas every-day lifewas getting to be... 

"I see you are eating up everything before the really deserving poorarrive, " said a slow, coolly amused voice behind Joy, who sat withher back to the entrance. 

Joy did not need Mrs. Hewitt's equally calm "Good-evening, Gail. Since when have you been deserving?" to know who had entered. 

"Came to help you receive, " stated Gail further, still indolently, bringing herself further into the circle as she spoke, where Joycould see her. "I brought a stray cousin along--sex, male. I knew youwouldn't care--men are a godsend in New England towns. Here he is. "

The cousin in question was evidently motioned to, for he appeared inthe range of Joy's vision with a charming certainty of welcome, andthe two merged themselves with the circle without more ceremony. They had evidently made their way to the dressing-rooms beforecoming to hunt for the family. 

While Gail introduced her cousin a little more thoroughly, Joy gaveher a furtive, but still more thorough, inspection. She seemedtwenty-five or six. She was very slim, with lines like a boy morethan a girl; sallow, with large, steady blue-gray eyes and heavylashes, and lips that were so full that they were sullen-lookingwhen her face was still. She was not unusually pretty--indeed, byPhyllis' rose-and-golden beauty she looked dingy--but she hadsomething arresting about her, and the carriage and manner of a girlwho is insolently certain that whatever she says or does is perfectbecause she does it. She had on a straight blue chiffon frock, cutunusually low: so low that it was continually slipping off one thinshoulder. Allan confided to Joy afterward that Gail's shoulder-strapsworried him to madness. 

Joy watched Miss Maddox with fascinated eyes. "I'm so _young_!"she thought forlornly, "and all the rest of them are so dreadfullygrown-up!"

She felt as if Gail Maddox, with her brilliant, careless sentences, and her half-insolent confidence, owned everybody there much morethan _she_ did: and she felt little and underdressed and outclassedto a point where even Gail might pity her, and probably did.... Andif there is a more abjectly awful feeling than that the Other Girlpities you, nobody has discovered it yet.... Gail might even know howmuch of a pretender she was. If John--but no. John wasn't like that. He was--"fantastically honorable, " she had heard Phyllis call it. John hadn't told--he wouldn't tell if his own happiness dependedon it.... And Joy let her thoughts stray off into a maze of wonderingas to whether she would rather have her self-respect saved by nothaving Gail know, or whether, if it would break John's heart to beseparated forever from Gail, she oughtn't to tell him to tell. 

Gail, lounging in a low chair she had dragged across the waxed floorin the face of all outcries, with one electric-blue-shod footstretched out before her, looked exactly the person you'd care leastto have know anything they could scorn you about. She could scorn sowell and so convincingly, Joy felt, listening to her. There wouldn'tbe a thing left of you when she got through. 

"I feel as alone as Robinson Crusoe, " thought Joy forlornly. 

She rose restlessly and picked up the tray which had borne theirillegal sandwiches, with the idea of carrying it and herself out ofsight. She wanted a minute to brace herself in. 

As she did it, Allan rose, too, unexpectedly, as he did most things. "Here, I'll take some of those, " he offered, and helped her carrythe debris out. 

They set down their burdens on a pantry table, whence threescandalized maids whisked them somewhere else again, gazing thewhile reproachfully at the invaders. 

"I haven't any use for that girl, " stated Allan plainly, as theywent back. "Don't let her fuss you, Joy. "

Joy looked gratefully up at him. The whole world, then, didn'tprefer Gail Maddox to her!

"She makes me feel exactly like a small dog that has stolen a bone andgot caught, " Joy acknowledged directly, with a little shamefaced laugh. 

"She'll do her best in that line, " responded Allan, who seemed tohave no great affection for the lady. "Don't let her bother you. He's your bone--hang on to him. In short, sic 'em!"

They both laughed, and Joy came back with her bronze head high andan access of fresh courage. She sat down this time between John andthe cousin, whose name she had not heard. But she began talking hardto him. Occasionally she tossed John, fenced in beside her, acheerful word. He seemed perfectly satisfied at first, but thecousin did not. He wanted Joy all to himself, it appeared, and afianc� more or less seemed to have no bearing on the case, as far ashe was concerned. 

Presently John woke up to this fact and began the effort torepossess himself of his lawful property. Joy cast a mischievousglance at Allan, sitting on the arm of his wife's chair (chairs hadbecome the order of the day), and Allan grinned happily, by somemeans telegraphing the situation to Phyllis. Every one was happyexcept John, and perhaps Gail, who presently eyed the three and usedher usual weapon of lazy frankness. 

"It makes me furious to see both of you making violent love to JoyHavenith, " she said indolently. "Clarence, go start the victrola, mygood man. This must be put a stop to. "

Clarence lifted himself from the floor by Joy, but he calmly tookher hand along with him, and raised her, too. 

"She's going to christen the floor with me, " he informed his cousin. "Come on, Miss Joy!"

The isolation that ordinarily doth hedge an engaged girl, where menare concerned, seemed to trouble Clarence not at all. He was, by theway, in spite of the fact that he would some day be too stout, oneof the best-looking men who ever lived. He had a good deal of hiscousin's lazy assurance--in him it sometimes verged on impudence, but never beyond the getting-away-with point--and a heavenly smile. His other name was, unbelievably, Rutherford, which almost took thecurse off the Clarence, as he said, but not quite. And if he hadgone into the movies he would have made millions, beyond a doubt. 

He drew Joy across the floor with him, in her green-and-silverdraperies, and began to wind the victrola, which had been tuckedinto a nook where Mrs. Hewitt had vainly hoped it would be quitehidden. There was to be an orchestra afterwards for the authorizeddancing. 

Clarence put on "Poor Butterfly, " and encircling Joy proceeded todance away with her. 

"But I don't know how to dance, " she gasped as she felt herselfbeing drawn smoothly across the floor. 

"That doesn't matter, Sorcerette, dear, " said Clarence blandly. "Just let go--be clay in the hands of the potter. I'll do thedancing for two. Hear me?"

Joy did as she was told, and--marvel of marvels!--found herselffollowing him easily. She was really dancing!

"But why did you call me that?" she demanded, like a child, as shegot her breath. To her apprehensive mind the name sounded as if Gailhad not only learned her dark secret but had passed it on to herdear Cousin Clarence. 

"Because you look it, " said he promptly, in a voice that softened fromword to word. "... Harrington is a good dancer, isn't he? Phyllis looksall right, but I fancy she guides hard. Those tall women often do.... Why, anybody with brows and lashes like yours, and hair that color, combined with that angelic please-guide-me-through-a-hard-worldexpression simply shrieks aloud for a name like that. A sorcerette isa cross between a seraph and a little witch. There's no telling whatshe might do to you!"

"Oh!" cooed Joy. 

It sounded like a very happy "Oh, " and Clarence, experiencedlove-pirate though he was, hadn't a way in the world of knowing thatJoy's pleasure came of being still undiscovered, not of his winningways. 

She danced on with him to the very last note of the record, enraptured to find that she really could dance, and came back to theend of the room where Mrs. Hewitt still sat; her eyes starry withdelight. 

"Oh, I can dance when I just go where the man takes me!" she cried. "I never knew I could!"

"You dance very well, " said John's quiet voice from behind hismother's chair. "Will you dance with me now?"

Joy, regarding him, saw that he was vexed. Most people would nothave noticed it, but very few of his moods escaped Joy. He was alittle graver than usual, and his voice was quieter. 

"If I can, " she answered. "I thought you were dancing this with MissMaddox. "

"I didn't think it would show proper courtesy to my fianc�e to dancefirst with some one else, " John answered. 

Clarence had set the music going again, and was swinging round theroom with Gail. As it began, John, with no more words, drew Joy outon the floor with him. 

She looked up in surprise at his words. 

"Why--why, I didn't know I was that much of a fianc�e to you. Ithought probably you'd rather be with Gail. And--and I didn't know Iwas going to dance anyway. I didn't know I could!"

He looked down at her again, apparently to see whether she was inearnest, holding her off for a moment as they danced. 

She hoped he would deny that he preferred being with Gail, but hedid not. 

"We are going through our month of relationship _right_, " hetold her definitely, smiling, but looking down at her with thesteady, steel-colored light in his gray eyes that she knew meant "noappeal. " "Gail does not enter into it at all. But I admit thatRutherford's quickness put me in the wrong. "

"If only, " thought Joy, acutely conscious of his firm hold, "insteadof laying down the law that way, he would let go and admit that hewas angry!" For he certainly was, and it wasn't at all her fault, unless going where Clarence took her was a crime. John _hadn't_thought of dancing first. Was he the kind of person who alwaysthought he was right even when he knew he wasn't? If so, maybe amonth _was_ long enough.... But the thought of the end of themonth hurt, no matter how unreasonable she tried to think John, andshe threw down her arms--the only way, if she had known, to makeJohn throw down his. 

"Are you angry at me?" she half whispered. "I--please don't beangry. Nobody ever was, and I don't want to be silly, but I don'tbelieve I could stand it. "

He swept her rhythmically on, but she could feel his arm relax andhold her more warmly, and his wonderful gray eyes softened again asthey looked into hers. 

"Poor little thing! I keep forgetting that you're just a child. Sometimes you aren't, you know. "

"No, sometimes I'm not, " Joy echoed. Then she laughed up at himimpishly. "You say this thing is going to be done right?" shemocked. "Very well, then, when Mr. Rutherford is nice to me youought to be nicer. When he sits down close to me and tells me I'm asorcerette--"

"A what?" demanded John swiftly. "See here, Joy, I'm practically incharge of you, and you're very young, you know, and can't beexpected to know much about men. Rutherford is attractive and allthat, but he's a man I wouldn't trust the other side of a biscuit. Any man can tell you that. Allan--"

"He talks just like a poet, " said Joy innocently. How could Johnknow that this was an insult, not a compliment, in Joy's mind? Shehad seen any amount of Clarences--ignoring her, to be sure, butstill saying Clarence things to others in her hearing--all her days. 

"That may be, " said John. "I'm no judge of poets, and I suppose youare.... See here, Joy, there's an inhabitant--two of 'em--coming inthe doorway. Mother'll be wanting you to stand in a silly line andpass people along to her, or away from her, or something. Come herewith me and we'll finish this. You're getting a wrong impression ofwhat I mean. "

Joy found herself being steered masterfully into a little semi-darkroom that opened off the long parlor. John planted her in a lowchair in a corner and pulled up a stool for himself just opposite. 

"They won't find us for at least ten minutes, unless we wigwag. Now--what's a sorcerette?"

His tone, in spite of his carelessness, betrayed a certain anxietyto learn. Joy answered him with fullness and simplicity. 

"A sorcerette is somebody with coloring like mine, and a crossbetween a seraph and a little witch, " she replied innocently. "That's what Clarence said. But I _think_ he made up the namehimself, " she added conscientiously, as if that would be some help. 

John grinned a little in spite of himself. 

"I don't like the idea particularly of his making the name up himself, "he remarked; "but there is something in what Rutherford said!"

"I'm very glad you think so, " said Joy with a transparent meekness. "And now that you've found out, isn't it time you went back to yourduties?"

He looked at her doubtfully, where she sat in the half-light withher head held high and her hands crossed on her green-and-silverlap. He could not quite make out her expression. 

But he had not much more chance for cross-questioning, becauseguests were beginning to come thickly, and his mother was sendingout agonized scouting parties for the feature of the evening. 

Phyllis, knowing the rooms of old, discovered her. She swooped downon the pair, where they were sitting in the little dim room. 

"You wretched people, this is no time for that sort of thing!" sheexclaimed, shoving them before her. "Please try to remember that youwill, in all likelihood, spend a lifetime together. Joy, threesevere New England spinsters have already taken Gail Maddox for you. Hurry!"

The suggestion was quite enough, as Phyllis may have known it wouldbe. Joy whisked into her place, which was opposite the double doors, between Mrs. Hewitt and Phyllis, and taking her burden of whitechrysanthemums on one arm, proceeded to be as charming to her futurepatients-in-law as she knew how. 

Mrs. Hewitt and Phyllis cast glances of astonished admiration ateach other over her head. They neither of them had thought of Joy asanything but a sweet child, or an affectionate child--a darling, butshy and unused to the world. But she was managing her share of theevening's pageant as if she had run a salon for twenty years. It didnot occur to them that the explanation was that she practically hadbeen brought up in one. She had been a part of the bi-weeklyreceptions given to the small and great of the earth by Havenith thepoet ever since she was old enough to come into the parlors andcould be trusted not to cry or snatch cake. 

"Good gracious, Joy, _where_ did you learn to drive peoplefour-in-hand this way?" breathed Phyllis admiringly, in a lull. "I_know_, if I'd had to talk to two Miss Peabodys and three MissBrearleys and a stray Jones _all_ at once, at least five ofthem would have hated me forever after. And you kept them going likea juggler's balls!"

"They're not half as hard as the people at Grandfather'safternoons, " answered Joy. "He had almost every kind ofperson--everybody wanted to see him, you know, and he felt it hisduty to gratify as many as he could, he said. Oh, Phyllis, _ten_ Brearleys and Peabodys are nothing to trying to makethree Celtic poets and a vers-librist talk pleasantly to eachother!"

"You're a darling, " said Phyllis irrelevantly. 

"I see you've been working virtuously hard, " put in Gail pleasantly, sauntering up. "Now, _I_ gave up being noble-hearted to theuninteresting some time ago. There's very little in it. I collecteda suitor or so early in the evening, and we've been telling eachother what we really thought of all the worst guests, in the littleroom off. You ought to hear John's description of--"

"She shan't--it's not for your young ears, " said Clarencepossessively from where he stood, a little behind Gail. Gail hadthree men with her--Clarence, John, and a slim youth who lookedyounger than he proved to be, and who answered to the name of Tiddy. 

All Joy's feelings of triumph and innocent satisfaction in havingwon the liking of Mrs. Hewitt's guests faded. She felt as Gail hadmade her feel before--foolishly good and ridiculously young andaltogether unsuccessful in life. For a moment the mood held her in avery crushed state of mind: then she caught Clarence's eyes fixedupon her with a look of amused admiration. It spurred her. 

"I've been doing my duty by my future lord and master, " she saidlightly. "But now you put it that way, he doesn't sound like aworthy cause a bit. "

The men laughed, though Joy's words hadn't sounded particularly wittyto herself. "I'm going to abjure duty now, " she went on hurriedly. "The orchestra's playing that thing people can dance me to----"

She held her hand and arm gracefully high, in the old minuet pose, and laughed up at Clarence. _He_ wasn't supposed to be herlover, and yet he saw through Gail when John didn't----

"By Jove, I can do the minuet!" he said eagerly. "Can you, Miss Joy?"

She smiled and nodded. 

 _"Grandma told me all about it, Taught me so I could not doubt it, "_

she sang softly. 

"We'll do it--we'll do it for the happy villagers!" proclaimed Clarence. 

"Here, Tiddy, go cut a girl out of the herd, and find Harrington, too. We're the bell-cows. All you others have to do is to obedientlyfollow us--the men follow me and the women tag around after MissJoy--which last seems wrong, but can't be helped. "

"Not at all, " said John amiably. "Far be it from me to seem to stealyour thunder, Rutherford, but I, too, was in the village pageantlast year, and I minuet excellently. All my grateful patients saidso. You know, if you led off, they might take you for the man who'sgoing to marry Miss Havenith. "

Clarence couldn't very well do or say anything to his host, but helooked far from pleased as John took Joy's hand and quietly led herinto line. Tiddy came up just then with a pretty, dark little girlwhom he had selected with great judgment from the guests as beingjust of a height between Joy and Gail. He had also enlisted theorchestra, for it began to play "La Cinquantaine" as they all tooktheir places facing each other. They were all laughing, evenClarence. The guests, catching the spirit of the thing, began tolaugh and applaud, and--it seemed like magic that it could be doneso swiftly--formed two more sets in the rest of the room, while theelders, against the wall, watched approvingly. 

"I thought nobody but me danced minuets any more, " Joy whispered toJohn as, her eyes alight with happiness, she crossed him in thechanges of the lovely old dance. 

"There happened to be a historical pageant here last summer, " heexplained to her, "and there were eight minuet sets in theRevolutionary episode, so we had to learn. Mother hounded me intoit. I'm glad now she did. "

"Why?" inquired Joy innocently the next time she met him. 

"I like to maintain my rights, " he answered with a little gleam offun in his eyes. 

But Joy felt fairly certain that the gleam of fun had behind it agleam of decision. Certainly John's motto was, "What's mine'smine!"--even when it was rented. 

They finished to applause, and as the orchestra ended its minuet itslid on into a modern dance, and so did each of the couples, dancingon out on the floor. 

Joy sank down at the end of the waltz on a seat by the wall, withJohn beside her. 

He bent over her. 

"Having a good time, kiddie?" he asked her gently. She nodded, hereyes like stars. 

"Oh, I'm _people_, at last!" she said with a soft exultance. "I've always looked on and looked on, like a doll or a mechanicalfigure--and I'm real--I'm in the midst of things! And it's all youand the wishing ring! ... John, did you see? Your people--they reallyliked me!"

"Of course they did, you little goosie, " he told her, smiling downat her. "You have more personal charm than almost any girl I everknew. I don't know any one who doesn't like you. "

"Gail doesn't, " Joy ventured. 

John shook his head. 

"You don't understand Gail, " he said. "She's a mighty brilliantgirl. She doesn't often like other girls, I admit that--but she tookto you. I could see it. "

"Could you?" flashed Joy. "Men see so much! ... She's beckoning to you. "

She flung her head back angrily. Nobody likes to be told she doesn'tunderstand another girl--and the fact that the girl is mightybrilliant doesn't make you feel better about it. 

"I'll be back in just a moment, " said John obliviously, and wentwith what seemed to Joy unnecessary docility. 

She stood there alone, her hands clasped hard, her head up--to allappearance a vivid, triumphant little figure. Her heart was beatinglike mad and her cheeks burnt. She had just found out somethingabout herself, something that a wiser, older woman would have knowna long time ago: as long ago as when the Wishing Ring Man stood, thelight glinting on his fair hair and sturdy shoulders, in the openingof Grandfather's hall door. 

She was in love with John--furiously, wildly, heart-breakingly inlove with him. And she was going to have to live close by him for amonth, knowing that, and keeping him from knowing it--and then goaway from him and never see him any more. 

"This is our dance, Sorcerette, " said Clarence's voice in her ear. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

A FOUNTAIN IN FAIRYLAND

Joy had supposed, when she finally went to sleep at three in themorning, that she would waken with all the excitement gone andfeeling very unhappy. She had always heard that it made you unhappyto be in love. 

Instead, she opened her eyes with the excitement of it all stillpulsing through her. The fact that John was in the world and shecould care for him seemed almost enough to account for the sense ofhappiness that possessed her as she pattered over to the window andlooked out. And what little more was needed to account for herexhilaration could be found in the wonderful September morningoutside. There probably _were_ troubles somewhere or other, such as darkened city parlors, minor poets, and sophisticatedseekers after John, but somehow she and they didn't connect. The airwas so tingling and sunny, and the garden was so beautiful, and beingyoung and free and in the country was so heavenly that she dressedand ran down, and sang along the garden paths as she picked herselfa big bunch of golden chrysanthemums and purple and pink asters. 

Nobody else, apparently, was stirring yet. Joy was beginning to feelhungry, so she strayed into the dining-room, to see whether by anychance anybody else was down. 

Phyllis was just coming into the dining-room, with her sonfrolicking about her. 

"How do you feel after your triumph last night?" she asked. "Dead;or do you want another party this morning? I was proud of you, Joy. Everybody told me how pretty you were, and how charming, and howintelligent it was of me to be a friend of yours. "

Joy flushed with genuine pleasure. 

"Oh, was I--did they?" she asked. "Phyllis, it was _lovely!_ ... And think of being able to dance like that without knowing how!That was just a plain miracle, if you like!"

"Good-morning, Joy, " said Allan, coming in at this point. 

He sat down with them and attacked his grapefruit. 

"I see I'm two laps behind on breakfast. Philip, you young rascal, where's my cherry?"

Philip giggled uncontrollably. 

"Why, Father, you ate it yourself! _You_ ate it while you saidgood-morning to Joy!"

"You seem to have made one fast friend, Joy, " pursued Allan, dismissing the subject of the cherry for later consideration. "Rutherford confided to me last night that he thought he had beenworking too hard; he isn't returning to his native heath for a monthmore. His aunt's been pressing him to stay on, and he thinks hewill. He's coming over to see me this morning. He's devoted to me, "stated Allan sweetly. "There's nothing he needs more than myfriendship. He explained it to me. "

Phyllis and he both laughed. 

"You always did have winning ways, Allan, " said his wifemischievously. "When is John expected to drop in? He, too, lovesyou--don't forget that!"

Allan grinned. 

"Poor old Johnny has to look after his patients. He can't very wellsnatch a vacation in his own home town. It's a hard world forgentlemen, Joy!"

Phyllis looked from one to the other of them with an answering lightof mischief in her eyes. 

"I suppose John could take anybody he liked to hold the car, couldn't he?" she said demurely. "In fact--he has!"

"If you mean me, " answered Joy, "he was very severe with meyesterday. John is bringing me up in the way I should go!" Thefeeling of vivid excitement was still carrying her along, and shelaughed as she answered them. 

Allan looked at her critically. 

"H'm!" he said thoughtfully. "I seem to have a feeling that he won'tbring you such an amazing distance, at that--short time as I haveknown you. Did you say popovers this morning, Phyllis?"

"Popovers, " nodded Phyllis, "and some of Lily-Anna's fresh marmalade. "

"An' little dogs!" broke in Philip enthusiastically. "Oh, Father, don't you just _love_ little dogs?"

His mother tried to look troubled. 

"Allan, don't you think you could teach Phil, by precept or example, that they really are sausages?" she asked. "The other day at Mrs. Varney's we had them for luncheon, and he said, 'I'd like anotherpup, please!' And she was shocked to the heart's core. "

"It's such a nice convenient name, " pleaded Allan. "Joy, I have towaste most of the morning talking over the long-distance 'phone tomy lawyer. I shall spend an hour discussing leases, and two morebullying him and his wife into coming out to visit us. You willreadily see that I can't entertain my new-found soulmate at the sametime. I don't suppose you could offer any suggestions about hisamusement?"

"Solitaire, " suggested Joy demurely. "Or you might give him a bookto read. "

Allan threw back his head and laughed. 

"Excellent ideas, both!" he said, "and truly original. He shall havehis choice!"

"You have the kindest hearts in the world, " said Phyllis, summoningthe waitress. "Allan, before you finish that million-dollarconversation to Mr. De Guenther, please call me. I want to speak tohim a minute, too. "

"I'll call you, " he promised. 

They drifted off, Phyllis to attend to her housekeeping, Allan tohis long-distance leases, and Philip to find Angela, whom he neverforgot for long. She had breakfast with her nurse, and Philip feltit was time he looked her up. He adored his little sister, and spentthe larger part of his days in teaching her everything he had beentaught, which was sometimes hard on Angela, who obeyed himimplicitly. 

As for Joy, she strayed out into the garden again. The feeling ofintense, happy aliveness in a wonderful world was still on her, andshe wanted to be alone to think things out--to think out especiallythe thing she had discovered last night--and what to do about it. 

It was as warm as June by this time, for the sun was getting higher, and she went slowly down the paths with the sun shining on her hairand making it look like fire, breaking, as she went, a few moreflowers to pin in her dress. She had put on one of her oldpicture-frocks, a straight dull-cream wool thing that she wore inthe mornings at home, girdled in with a silver cord about the hips. She fitted the garden exceedingly well, though nothing was furtherfrom her thoughts. 

At the far end, among a tangle of roses and beneath a group ofshade-trees, the Harringtons had set a little fountain, a flat, low-set marble basin with a single jet of water springing high, andfalling almost straight down again. Its purpose was to cool the airon very hot days, but it always flowed till frost, because it was sopretty Phyllis never could bear to have it shut off. Joy loved thehalf-hidden, lovely place, though she had only had one glimpse of itbefore, and she sat down by it and began to try to think things out. She had a much harder thinking to do than she'd had for a long time. 

"A 'hard world for gentlemen'!" meditated Joy, and laughed as shetrailed one hand in the water. "It's a much harder one for ladies, if Allan but knew it!"

She bent over, half-absently, to watch the water in the basin. Itfascinated her, the flow of it, and it helped her to reason thingsout. There were several things that needed reasoning. 

To begin with--there was no use saying it wasn't so, for it was--shewas in love with John.... Her heart beat hard as she looked downinto the water and said the words in her mind. It would have beenlovely to do nothing but sit there and think of him. There were somany different wonderful things he had for her to think about; hissteady eyes that changed from warm-gray to steel-gray, and back, andcould look as if they loved you or hated you or admired you orfathered you, while the rest of his face told nothing at all; thelittle gold glint in his fair hair and the way it curled when it wasdamp weather; his square, back-flung shoulders; the strong way hehad of moving you about, as if you were a doll--the way his voicesounded when she said certain words--

Joy pulled her thoughts from all that by force. 

"Clarence Rutherford calls me a sorcerette, " she thought, "and Isuppose I must be. This must be being one. But, oh, I _have_ tothink how I can get John to love me back!"

It looked a little hopeless, to think of, at first. He was so oldand wise and strong, compared to her, just a nineteen-year-old girlwho had never had even one lover to practise on! Something Gail hadsaid the night before came back to her--one of the girl'shalf-scornful, half-amused phrases. 

"Barring a male flirt or so like Clarence over there, " she hadvouchsafed, "men _are_ such simple-minded children of nature!All you have to do is to treat them like hounds and tell them whatto do, and they'll do it. "

Joy could scarcely imagine treating John like a hound. She was tooafraid of him, except once in a while when she had a burst ofdaring. But, at any rate, if she went on the principle that John wassimple-minded and could always be depended on to think she felt theway she acted, things would be lots easier. 

"If only I can keep the courage!" she prayed. 

But as to details. She would have to let John see enough of her towant her about. But--not so much that he got tired of it. 

"I wonder how much of me would tire him?" she said. Anyway--Joydimpled as she thought of it--he seemed to want to be the only one. He didn't seem to want Clarence around. They all kept telling herClarence was a flirt--as if she wanted him to be anything else! It'sa comfort sometimes to know that a man can be depended on not tohave intentions.... Very well, she would try to make John jealous ofClarence. Not enough to hurt him--it would be dreadful to hurthim!--but enough to make herself valuable. 

"It's going to be very hard, " she decided, "because all I want is todo just as he says and make everything as happy for him as I can. Oh, dear, why are men like that!"

But she was fairly certain that they were. They were like that inthe books, and Gail had said so. Gail apparently knew. 

"It'll be hard, " she thought sadly. Then her face brightened. "Butit'll be fun! and if it works I'll be able to be as nice to John asI want to all the rest of my life, and please him to my heart'scontent. Why, it'll be my duty!"

She smiled and fell into another dream about John, leaning over thefountain, with her copper braids falling across her bosom. 

She had forgotten all the outside things, until presently she feltsome one standing near her. 

 "_Lean down to the water, Melisande, Melisande!_"

the some one sang, in a soft, half-mocking voice. 

She turned and looked up. 

"How do you do, Mr. Rutherford?" she said sedately. 

She had been addressed as "Melisande" too many times, at home withthe poets, to be particularly excited, but even a man of Clarence'swell-known capabilities couldn't be expected to know this. Hedisposed himself gracefully along the edge of the fountain. He had afeline and leisurely grace, in spite of the fact that he wasn'tspecially thin, had Clarence, as he very well knew. 

"I hope I won't fall into the water, " he observed disarmingly. "Imay if you speak to me too severely. See here, Melisande, why didyou go and be all engaged to the worthy Dr. Hewitt? You had four orfive good years of fun ahead of you if you hadn't. "

"I mustn't listen to you, if you talk that way, " Joy told him quietly. 

"Oh, you'd better, " said Clarence with placidity. "I'm very interesting. "

"You're very vain, " Joy told him, laughing at him in spite of herself. 

"I am, indeed--it's one of my charms, " explained he. "Now that's outof the way, we'll go on talking. "

"Well, go on talking!" Joy answered him childishly, putting herhands over her ears. "I can go on not listening!"

Clarence accordingly did, while Joy kept her hands over her earstill her arms were tired and Clarence apparently had no more to say. Then she dropped them. 

"I was reciting the Westminster catechism, " Clarence observed blandly. "I never waste my gems of conversation on deaf ears. Come, Joy of mylife, unbend a little. I don't mean a bit of harm in the world. All Iwant is a kind word or two and the pleasure of your society. "

Joy looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, and then laughed. 

"If you were a poet, here is where you would tell me that thefetters of wearying and sordid marriage were not for you--that theywore on your genius, " she said unexpectedly. 

Clarence gasped. It must have been very much like having the kittensuddenly turn and offer him rational conversation. 

"_Et tu_, Laetitia!" he said in a neat and scholarly manner. "Joy, you have cruelly deceived me--I thought you were a simplechild of nature. "

"I don't know a bit what I am, " she answered truthfully, "but thepoets at Grandfather's did talk that way--not to me, but to otherpeople--and you sounded like them. You aren't really a poet, are you?"

"Well, I've never been overt about it, " he evaded. He did not knowwhat to make of Joy, any more than ever. 

Joy, trailing the end of a braid absently in the water, thought aminute longer, then looked up at him. 

"It seems to me, " she said suddenly, "that you just mock and mock atthings all the time. I'm not clever, and I can't answer youcleverly. You might as well make up your mind to it, and then theway I look won't be a disappointment to you. I know I look like amedieval princess. It's because I was brought up to. But I'm not theleast bit medieval inside; honestly I'm not. I love to cook and Ilove children, and I'm always hungry for my meals. I don't want toseem discouraging, but I shall really be a dreadful disappointmentto you if you--"

"As long as you have copper-gold hair and sky-blue eyes, _nothing_you can do will disappoint me, " said Clarence caressingly. "Be asuffragette, if you will--be a war-widow! It's all the same. I canbe just as happy with you--and I intend to be!"

The mockery dropped from his voice for a moment as he said the lastwords. Joy looked at him, a little frightened for the moment. Shesmiled, then.... She was only nineteen, but she was thoroughlyhuman, and the spirit of Aunt Lucilla lighted her eyes. She droppedher black lashes against her pink cheeks and spoke irresponsibly. 

"But suppose--suppose I should fall in love with you?" she asked ina most little-girl voice. "Don't you see how dreadfully unhappy_I_ would be?"

"Oh, you won't, " Clarence assured her in a tone whose casualness didnot quite hide his welcome of the prospect. "We'll just beinterested in each other enough to make it interesting. Why, Joy ofMy Life, I wouldn't take anything from good old Hewitt for anythingin the world. "

There was a certain amount of conceit in Clarence's voice andmanner, patent even to so inexperienced a person as Joy. He seemedto think that all he had to do was take! Joy looked at him curiouslyfor a moment, and then she sighed. Sometimes she almost wishedsomebody _would_ take her mind off caring so much for John. 

"But this isn't real, " she suddenly thought, "the sunshine and thegaiety and these kind, handsome Harrington people being good to me, and this Clarence person posing about and trying to toy with myyoung affections--why, it's like a fairy tale or a play! ... I justrubbed the wishing ring, and it happened!"

She forgot Clarence again and began to sing softly under her breath, watching the ruffled water. 

"What are you thinking, Melisande?" asked Clarence softly. 

Joy lifted her wide innocent eyes and gave him a discreet version. 

"That, after all, this is a glade in Fairyland, and I am theprincess, and you--the dragon, " she ended under her breath. 

But Clarence, naturally enough, wasn't given to casting himself as adragon. He was perfectly certain he was a prince, and said so withcharming frankness. 

Joy continued to sing to herself. 

"I don't see why I shouldn't kiss your hand, if I'm a prince, " heobserved next. "In fact, as nice a little hand as you have reallycalls for such. "

He reached for it--the nearest, with the wishing ring on it. 

She snatched it indignantly away and clasped her hand indignantlyover the ring. That would be profanation!

"I wish somebody would come!" she thought. "I'll have to leave notonly Clarence, but my nice fountain, in a minute. " The next thingshe thought was, "What a well-trained wishing ring!" for Violaappeared between the tall rose trees at the entrance to the littlepleasance. 

"Miss Joy, have you seen Philip anywhere?" she asked. "It's hisdinner-time, and I've hunted the house upsidedown for him. "

"Nowhere at all, " said Joy truthfully, "Oh, is it as late as allthat? I'd better go, Mr. Rutherford. "

She followed Viola swiftly out, waving her hand provokingly toClarence. 

"There's a way out on the other side of the garden, " she called backcasually. 

"I've found a note from Philip, Viola, " Phyllis called as theyneared the house. "He's lunching out, it seems. "

She handed Viola the note. 

"I hav gon out too Lunchun, " it stated briefly. "Yours Sincerely, Philip Harrington. "

"He'll come back, " his mother went on, with a perceptible relief inher voice. "He has a corps of old and middle-aged ladies about thevillage who adore him. He's probably at Miss Addison's--she's hisSunday-school teacher. He really should have come and asked, Isuppose. Well, come in, Joy, and let us eat. Allan won't beback--he's gone off to some village-improvement thing that seems tothink it would die without him. "

They ate in solitary state, except for Angela, and after thatnothing happened, except that they separated with one accord to takelong, generous naps. 

Joy was awakened from hers by Phyllis' voice, raised in surprise. 

"But, Miss _Addison!_" she was saying, on the porch below Joy'swindow, in a tone that was part amusement, part horror. 

Joy slipped on her frock and shoes and ran down to share theexcitement. When she got down, Phyllis was just leading the visitorinto the old Colonial living-room, and they were having tea broughtin. Philip was nowhere to be seen. 

"A _wheel_barrow!" Phyllis was saying tragically, as she tookher cup from the waitress, who was listening interestedly, iffurtively. 

"A wheelbarrow, " assented Miss Addison, a pretty, white-hairedspinster. She, too, took a cup. 

Phyllis cast up her eyes in horror and, incidentally, saw Joy. 

"Come in, " she said resignedly. "I'm just hearing how Philipdisported himself at his 'lunchun. '"

"I didn't mean to distress you, but I really thought you shouldknow, Mrs. Harrington, " pursued the visitor plaintively. 

"I'm eternally grateful, " murmured Phyllis, beginning, as usual, tobe overcome with the funny side of the situation. "But--oh, Joy, what _do_ you think of my sinful offspring? Miss Addison saysPhilip spent the luncheon hour relating to her how his father wentto the saloon in the village, had two glasses of beer, was entirelyovercome, and had to be brought home in--in--" by this time Phylliswas laughing uncontrollably--"in a _wheel_barrow!"

Joy, too, was aghast for a moment, then the situation became toomuch for her, and she also began to laugh. 

"Good gracious!" she said. 

"And that isn't all!" Phyllis went on hysterically. "After Allan'sfriends, or the policeman, or whoever it was, tipped him off thewheelbarrow onto the front porch (imagine Allan in a wheelbarrow! Itwould take two for the length of him!), he staggered in, and wouldhave beaten me, but that my noble son flung himself between! Then hewas overcome with remorse--wasn't he, Miss Addison?--and signed thepledge. "

"Good gracious!" said Joy, inadequately, again. 

"Now, where on earth, " demanded Miss Addison, "did he get all that?"

"Only the special angel that watches over bad little boys knows, "said his mother with conviction. "And it won't tell. I know byexperience that I'll never get it out of Philip. He'll say, sweetly, 'Oh, I just _fought_ it, Muvver!' in as infantile a voice aspossible. "

They all three sat and pondered. 

"It sounds just like a tract, " said Joy at last. 

"Exactly like a tract, " assented Phyllis. "Do you suppose--inSunday-school----"

"I'm his Sunday-school teacher, " Miss Addison reminded herindignantly. "That settles _that!_"

"Well, have some more tea, anyway, now the worst is over, " said herhostess hospitably.... "A _wheel_barrow!"

They continued to sit over their teacups and meditate. SuddenlyPhyllis rose swiftly and made a spring for the bookcase, scatteringsponge-cake as she went. 

"I have it, I believe!" she exclaimed. "Well, who'd think--Violaread this to Philip when he was getting over the scarlatina lastwinter. There wasn't another child's book in the house that hedidn't know by heart, and we couldn't borrow on account of theinfection. I took it away from them, but the mischief was done. Buthe's never spoken of it or seemed to remember it from that day tothis, and I'd forgotten it, too. "

She held up a small, dingy book and opened it to the title-page. 

"The Drunkard's Child; or, Little Robert and His Father, " it said inlettering of the eighteen-forties. 

It was unmistakably the groundwork of Philip's romance. It had awoodcut frontispiece of Little Robert in a roundabout and baggytrousers, inadequately embracing his cowering mother's hoopskirt, while his father, the Drunkard in question, staggered remorsefullyback. It was all there, even to the wheelbarrow--also inadequate. 

"It didn't hurt Philip's great-grandfather, " said his mother. "Idon't see why it should have affected Philip as it did. Differenttimes, different manners, I suppose.... The Drunkard's Child!"

"Where _is_ he?" Joy thought to ask. 

"Innocently playing with his little sister in the nursery, " saidPhyllis. "Doubtless teaching her that she is a Drunkard's Daughter. I have him still to deal with.... A wheelbarrow! I wonder what Allan_will_ say?"

CHAPTER NINE

THE TANGLED WEB WE WEAVE

"It wasn't so much my behavior after I was wheeled home, " saidPhilip's father mournfully, "as it was my getting so outrageouslydrunk on two glasses of beer. That was the final straw. Why couldn'the have made it several quarts of brandy, or even knockout drops?"

"I hope you don't want an innocent child of that age to know aboutknockout drops!" said Clarence Rutherford, the ubiquitous. 

"Well, there's something wrong with his environment, " said Allan. 

"We are his environment, " Phyllis reminded him. "As far as I know weare rather nice people. "

The Harringtons, John Hewitt, with Gail and her cousin, not to speakof Joy, were enjoying an unseasonably hot day in the Harringtongarden. They had all been playing tennis, and now everybody wassitting or lying about, getting rested. The trees kept the morningsun from being too much of a nuisance, and there was a tray withlemonade, and sweet biscuits which were unquestionably going to ruineverybody's luncheon appetite. 

"What that child needs, " answered his father, taking another glassof lemonade and the remaining biscuits, "is young life-companionshis own age. "

They had all been racking their brains to think of a punishment thatwould fit Philip's crime, or at least some warning that would bringit home to him. He had been led by Viola, subdued and courteous, totell Miss Addison that he had deceived her. He did, very carefully. 

"But it _might_ of been my father, " he explained as he ended. "Oughtn't we to be glad that it wasn't my father, Miss Addison?"

Miss Addison, quite nonplused by this unexpected moral turn to theconversation, had acknowledged defeat, and fed Philip largely. Hehad a very good time, apparently, for he grieved to Viola all theway home over Angela's missing such a pleasant afternoon. When hereturned he flung himself on Allan. 

"Oh, Father, _please_ let Angela go, too, next time I go'pologizing!" he implored. "There were such nice little cakes--justthe kind Mother lets her eat!"

Allan shook his head despairingly. 

"Please remove him, Viola, " he said. "I want to think. "

Not only he, but Phyllis and John, had spent a day thinking. No onehad, as yet, reached any conclusion at all. 

"It's all very well for you to be carefree, " he said now to John, who was laughing like the others. "It isn't up to you to see thatthe young idea shoots straight. "

John's face remained quite cheerful. 

"Well, you see, I have Joy's manners and morals to look after, " hesaid, glancing across at her in a friendly way. "That's enough forone man. "

Joy curled on the warm grass, laughed lazily. She was too pleasantlytired from tennis to answer. She only curled her feet under her andburrowed into the grass a little more, like a happy kitten. 

It didn't seem as if anything ever need interrupt her happiness. Andas Phyllis had had the happy thought of ordering luncheon broughtout to where they were, there seemed no reason why they should evermove. There was a feeling of unchangingness about the wonderfullyholding summer weather, and the general lazy routine, that was asdelightful as it was illusive. For the very next day things began tohappen. 

They were just finishing breakfast when a telegram came. 

"I suppose it's from the De Guenthers, telling us which train tomeet, " Phyllis said carelessly, as she opened it.... "Oh!"

"What is it, dear?" asked Allan at her exclamation of distress. 

She handed him the telegram. 

"Isabel suddenly ill with inflammatory rheumatism. Fear it mayaffect heart. Can you come on?"

"They're the nearest thing either of us has to relatives, " Phyllisexplained to Joy. "Inflammatory rheumatism! Oh, Allan, we ought to go. "

She looked at him across the table, her blue eyes distressed and wide. 

"Of course you shall go, my dearest, " Allan told her gently, whileJoy wondered what it would be like to have some one speak to her inthat tone. The Harringtons were so careless and joyous in theirrelations with each other, so like a light-hearted, casuallyintimate brother and sister, that it was only when they were moved, as now, that their real feelings were apparent. 

Joy looked off and out the window, and lost herself in a day-dream, her hand, as usual, mechanically feeling for the rough carving ofJohn's ring. 

"To be in John's house, close to him, like this, and to have himspeak to me so--wouldn't it be wonderful?" she thought, with a warmlift of her heart at even the vision of it. She forgot the peopleabout her for a little, and pictured it to herself. 

She had only seen two rooms of the Hewitt house, and that when theywere dressed out of all homelikeness, because of the reception. Butshe could think how they would look, with just John Hewitt andherself going up and down them. They would be happy, too, in thislight-hearted fashion--so happy that they laughed at little things. They would not talk much about loving each other. But they wouldbelong to each other, and they would know it. Each of them wouldalways be there for the other, and know it. They would sit by thewood fire in the dusk.... 

"Now to set my house in order, " said Phyllis, rising from the table. "You said the two train, Allan? All right--I can easily be ready forthat, or before, if you like. "

She rang for Lily-Anna, who appeared, smiling and comfortable as ever. 

"Mr. Harrington and I are going off for some days--perhaps longer, Lily-Anna, " Phyllis explained. "I shall have to leave the childrenwith you and Viola. Mrs. De Guenther is very ill. "

Lily-Anna seemed used to this sort of thing happening, and said shecould manage perfectly well. Indeed, Viola was beamingly amiableover the prospect, when summoned and told. She volunteered to do anymending and packing necessary on the spot. 

"How beautifully they take it!" marveled Joy when the servants hadgone again, full of shining assurances that all would be well. 

"You may well say so!" said Phyllis, lifting her eyebrows. "Theirrapture at getting the children to themselves is almost indecent. It's all very well to have such attractive infants, but I sometimeslook sadly back to the days when Lily-Anna loved me for myselfalone. And now about you. "

"Me?" said Joy in surprise. She had not supposed there was anyquestion about her. 

"You, " answered Phyllis decisively. "Here is where I am given achance of escape from making a lifelong enemy of your futuremother-in-law. " She crossed to the telephone as she spoke, and gotMrs. Hewitt's number. "This is Phyllis Harrington, " Joy heard hersay. "I called up to say that I am yielding in our struggle forJoy's person. Allan and I have to go away this afternoon. We shouldlove to have her stay here and chaperone Philip and Angela, but itseems a waste. Would you like to have her?"

Sounds of fervent acceptance were evidently pouring over the wire, for Phyllis smiled as she listened. 

"She not only wants you, " she transmitted to Joy, "but she says thatshe'll take no chances on our changing our minds, and is coming foryou in an hour, whether we go or not. She says to tell you that she'staking you shopping first.... You know, we're to have her back whenwe return, " she continued firmly to the telephone. "We saw her first. "

She hung up the receiver and swept Joy off upstairs with her whileshe packed. 

"You know, we may never get you again, " she warned. "I'm taking afearful chance in letting you escape this way. You have to comeback, remember, my child. "

"Indeed I will come back, " Joy promised fervently. 

It seemed so strange that all these people should so completely havemade her one of themselves, even to the point of wanting to keep herin their homes. 

"You are all so good to me!" she said. 

"You are exceedingly lovable, " explained Phyllis matter-of-factly. "In fact, Clarence remarked the last time I saw him that you had themost unusual kind of charm he had ever seen. He said you were like asorceress brought up in a nunnery. While I think of it, Joy dear, Clarence and Gail are two of the most confirmed head-hunters I know. They ought to marry each other and keep it in the family, but theywon't. I'm not worried about anything Gail can do, but do pleasekeep your fingers crossed when Clarence drops carelessly in. Andwhen he starts discussing your souls turn the conversation to thevillage water-supply or something as interesting. "

Joy smiled a little wistfully. 

"John doesn't seem to mind, " she said. Then she laughed outright. "Phyllis, I've seen every one of Clarence's tricks all my life. He'sthe only type I'm accustomed to: it's the John and Allan type Idon't know. "

"You certainly are a surprise to me, " said Phyllis, busily folding aflesh-colored Georgette waist, and laying it in a tray withtissue-paper in its sleeves. "I don't seem to be able to teach youmuch, which is a good thing. Now you'd better let me help you packup enough for a week, for Mrs. Hewitt is due fairly soon. "

Joy declined to take any of Phyllis' much-needed time, and went offto fill her suitcase. It was not until she had put in almosteverything she intended to take that she thought of the wishing ringagain. She looked down at the heavy Oriental carving with what wasalmost terror. She had wished for something on it, and once more herwish had come true. She was going over to be in the house with John, to see him whenever he was there, to have him--yes, he would have topretend, at least, that they were lovers, because of his mother. Shehad as nearly what she had wished for as it was possible for a ringto manage. 

"I almost feel as if I had made that poor old lady have therheumatism, " she thought with a thrill of fear. Then she pulledherself up--that was nonsense. 

"But anyway, " Joy told the ring severely, "I won't touch you when Imake wishes after this. I might wish for something in a hurry, andbe terribly sorry afterwards. "

But one thing she did wish then, deliberately. She sat back on herheels and clasped her fingers over the heavy carving of it. "Please, dear wishing ring, let John be in love with me!" she begged. Thenext moment she was scarlet at her own foolishness. The ringcouldn't do that, if it had belonged to Aladdin himself. 

So she went on packing. She was a little afraid and excited, goingoff to live in the very house with John, but she couldn't help beinga little glad. She would see him for hours and hours every day. 

"And oh, dear ring, " she whispered, forgetting that she had promisednot to wish any more, "don't let him get tired of having me around!"

She was not quite done when she heard the impatient wail of Mrs. Hewitt's horn. She stuffed the last things into the heavy suitcaseand ran down, dragging it after her. 

Phyllis went out to the car with her, kissing her good-by. 

"Now mind, this is only a loan, " she told Mrs. Hewitt. 

"Nothing of the sort, " retorted Mrs. Hewitt with an air ofcertainty. "Good-by, my dear. Give my love to Mrs. De Guenther. Perhaps when you get back I may give an afternoon tea and allow youto see Joy for a few minutes. "

Phyllis laughed, and patted Mrs. Hewitt's gloved hand where it layon the steering-wheel. 

"Use our place all you like, as usual, " she said in sole reply, "anddon't forget to miss me. "

"That's one of the loveliest girls that ever lived, " said Mrs. Hewittas they sped away. "Anybody but Phyllis I _would_ begrudge you to. Oh, my dear, we're going to have the best time!"

Joy squeezed the hand that should have been, but wasn't, helping theother hand steer. Mrs. Hewitt was so adorably a young girl insideher white-haired stateliness!

"We're going to the next village to buy materials, " she told Joyblithely, "and then we're going home to make them up, or I am. Itwon't hurt to get a bit of the trousseau under way, and you know Ihaven't sewed a thing for my daughter for thirty-four years--notsince the wretched child turned out to be John, and I had to takeall the pink ribbons out and put in blue!"

Mrs. Hewitt's inconsequent good spirits, somehow, took away some ofthe dread with which Joy had been looking forward to her sojourn inJohn's house. She allowed herself to be motored over to the nexttown, where there was fairly good shopping, and went obediently intothe stores. It was not until she saw the lady ordering down forinspection bolts of cr�pe de Chine and wash satin and glove silk inwhites and pinks and flesh-colors, that the full inwardness of thething dawned on her. For evidently Mrs. Hewitt had every intentionof paying for all this opulence, and Joy didn't quite see what to doabout it. Nor did the pocket-money her grandfather had given herwhen she left him warrant her paying for the things herself, even ifshe used it all. 

"Please don't get these things, " she whispered when she found achance. "I--I think I oughtn't to. "

"Oughtn't to, indeed, " replied Mrs. Hewitt coolly. "'Nobody askedyou, sir, she said!' I'm getting them myself. I may be intending tomake up a set of wash-satin blankets for the Harrington bulldog forall you know. I don't think he'd be surprised--they treat him like along-lost relative now. Now be sensible, darling. Do you thinkvalenciennes or filet would be better to trim the blankets? Or doyou like these lace and organdy motifs? They'd look charming on ablack bulldog. "

Joy laughed in spite of herself. 

"There's no doing anything with you, " she said. 

"Not a thing!" said the triumphant spoiled child whom the world tookfor an elderly lady. "Now we'll get down to business. Would yourather have cr�pe or satin for camisoles? Half of each would be agood plan, I think, if you have no choice. "

There _wasn't_ any doing anything with Mrs. Hewitt. She washaving a gorgeous time, and she carried Joy along with her till thegirl was choosing pink and white silks and satins, and patterns tomake them by, with as much enthusiasm as if no day of reckoningloomed up, three and a half weeks away. 

There was no way out. Of course, she would leave the things behind. The thought gave her a pang already, for Joy had been dressed by hergrandfather's ideas only as far as frocks went. Her grandmother hadseen to everything else, and was devoted to a durable material knownas longcloth, which one buys by the bolt and uses forever. 

But they sped merrily home, after a festive luncheon, with aboutforty dollars' worth of silk and lace and ribbon aboard, not tospeak of patterns, and a blue muslin frock which was a bargain andwould just fit Joy, and which she had invested in herself. 

 _"Oh what a tangled web we weave When first we practise to deceive!" _

Joy thought of that quotation so often now that she was beginning tofeel it was her favorite verse. But she touched the big parcel witha small, appreciative foot, and remembered that the blue frock, atleast, would be saved out of the wreck, and that John liked blue. 

Mrs. Hewitt showed her her bedroom when they got back, and left herto take a nap. But she did not want to rest. She lay obedientlyagainst the pillows and stared out the window at a great, vividmaple tree, and felt very much like staying awake for the rest ofher natural life. 

"How on earth was I to know that mothers-in-law were like this?" shedemanded of herself indignantly. "All the ones I ever heard aboutmade your life a misery. "

It is rather calming to remember that you really couldn't haveforeseen what is happening to you. So Joy presently rose happily, smoothed her hair and tidied herself generally, and came sedatelydown the stairs, prepared to go on playing her part. Only it wasgetting to feel more like a reality than a pretense. The other life, the one she would go back to, seemed the dream now. 

"John will be here soon, " Mrs. Hewitt greeted her. "It will be asurprise to him: you know, he hasn't an idea you are here. I wouldn'ttell him what Phyllis said. "

Joy dimpled. 

"Do you suppose he'll mind?" she ventured. 

"Oh, I think he'll bear up, " said Mrs. Hewitt amiably. "Come here, Joy; I've cut out a half-dozen of the silk ones already. Do you knowhow to do them? They're just a straight piece--see----"

Joy knelt down by her, absorbed in the pretty thing and in seeinghow to make it. The day was chillier than any had yet been, and afire had been built in the deep fireplace of the living-room. Mrs. Hewitt was sitting near it, with the pretty scraps of silk and laceall over her lap, and an ever-widening circle of cut-out garmentsaround her. 

"We can do the most of these by hand, " she mused. "Indeed, weshouldn't do them any other way. "

Joy rooted sewing things out of a basket near by and sat down justwhere she was, between Mrs. Hewitt and the large, fatherly Maltesecat who occupied a wonted cushion on the other side of thefireplace. And so John found her when he came in. The lamp had justbeen lighted, and its soft rays shone on Joy's bronze head anddown-bent, intent little face. She had on a little white apron thatMrs. Hewitt had fastened around her waist, and she was sewing hard. 

Before Joy heard John come in she felt him. No matter how tired hewas, there was always about John an atmosphere of well-being andsunniness, of "all's right with the world, " that made faces turn tohim instinctively when he stood in a doorway. But Joy did not raiseher eyes to look at him, nor did she move. 

His mother rose and came over to greet him. Joy did not hear herwhisper: "The child feels a little shy. She'll be more at ease nowyou've come. "

John came swiftly over to where she sat on the floor, very still, with her hands flying, and her eyes on her work. 

"Why, Joy dear, this is a lovely thing that I didn't expect, " hesaid gently. "Welcome--home!"

He smiled down at her and held out his hands to help her up. Quiteunsuspectingly, she pushed her work into the pocket along the hem ofher sewing-apron and laid her hands in his, and he drew her easilyto her feet. But, instead of releasing her then, he drew hercloser--and kissed her, quite as calmly as he had his mother amoment before.... No, not quite as calmly. Joy felt his arms closearound her, as if he was glad to have her in his hold. 

"Let me go, " she said in too low a voice for Mrs. Hewitt to hear. 

"Who has drawn the wine must drink it, " he told her in the same lowvoice. He went on, still softly, but more seriously, "My child, thissort of thing is necessary, if you want Mother to be satisfied whileyou are here. It's--a courtesy to your hostess. I promise to do nomore of it than is necessary, as it seems to trouble you so. But--don't you see?"

He released her, and she stepped away. 

"I--see, " she answered him a little uncertainly. "Th--thank you.... I--I couldn't help coming, John. "

Then she fled upstairs to dress for dinner. 

She puzzled all the time she was dressing. There was no usetalking--his mother _needn't_ be amused by such things. Shewould get on perfectly well without seeing them. John might think hewas doing it as a sacred duty--in spite of her adoration of him itdid not impress Joy that way.... There were men who kissed you justbecause you were a girl, if you let them; Clarence was that kind, according to all accounts. But--John! He was the best, kindest, noblest man she had ever known. Every one seemed to have the samefeelings about him that she had. Even when Clarence had sneered athim he had only been able to call him a "reliable citizen. "... Andyet--he seemed to want to kiss her! He liked it. 

"Of course, " said Joy to herself, with a beating heart beneath thewisdom of Aunt Lucilla, "the answer is that he probably doesn't knowit. Men don't ever seem to know things about themselves. But I mustremember that it's no sign he likes _me. _"

But it was quite true that it was going to have to continue. It haddawned on Joy that her will was no match for that of the Hewittfamily. But it was a very kindly will. She smiled a little, irrepressibly, as she clasped her girdle--she was wearing one of theold picture dresses--and went downstairs. For even if you are alittle impostor who has captured a five-weeks' lover by means of awishing ring, unlimited things to wear are nice, and having the manyou are in love with want to pet you is nice, too!

At the top of the stairs a thought struck her. Joy's thoughts had away of arriving suddenly. She had set out to be happy. Very well!

"I don't see why I shouldn't be engaged to the limit!" she thoughtdaringly. "I--don't--see--why I shouldn't! ... For just this littlewhile--just this one little while out of my life before I go back tothe shadows! ... I don't care if I am bad! I don't care if I amunmaidenly! I'll be as happy as ever I can. They'll think I'm verydreadful, anyway, all of them, when they know all about me!"

She swept on down the stairs, head up, cheeks flaming. 

And so, when she came upon John, waiting her courteously at thestair-foot, she did just exactly what in her heart she desired todo. She stood on the step above him and deliberately laid bothlittle white hands on his shoulders and smiled into his eyes. 

"I am so glad I'm here with you, " she said, looking at him with noattempt to hide the love she felt for him. "Are you glad to haveyour sweetheart in the house--for a little while? Say so--please, dear!"

He laughed light-heartedly, and his eyes shone. 

"A little while?" he answered gaily. "I can stand a lot more of youthan that, kiddie.... Come, now, Mother's waiting. Or shall I liftyou down from the step? ... I always seem to want to lift you about, somehow, you're so little and light--such a little princess:"

He set his hands about her waist, but she slipped from him, laughingexcitedly. 

"I believe you think I'm just a doll somebody gave you to playwith!" she told him with a certain sweet mockery that was herssometimes.... "Come, now, Mother's waiting!"

She ran down the hall, evading his grasp, and laughing back at himover her shoulder, to Mrs. Hewitt and safety. 

"Come, children, dinner will be cold, " said Mrs. Hewitt obliviously. 

"Coming, Mother dear!" answered Joy. 

CHAPTER TEN

CLARENCE SWOOPS DOWN

It was quite as pleasant to breakfast with John as it had been todine with him, which had been something Joy had secretly wonderedabout. When breakfast was over, he told her matter-of-coursely thathe was going to take her with him on his morning rounds. 

"You'd better take a book, " he advised her practically. "If youdon't, you'll be bored, because I'll be leaving you outside a gooddeal while I'm inside seeing patients. "

"I'll take my sewing, " she told him, trying to be as matter-of-factas he was. "That is, if you don't mind. "

She was smiling as happily as a child over being allowed to go, andhe smiled down at her, pleased, too. 

"Not unless it's too big, " he told her with an attempt at firmnesswhich failed utterly. 

She went off, singing under her breath, as usual, to get a verysmall sewing-bag, with a little piece of to-be-hemstitched pink silkin it, and John looked over at his mother. 

"She certainly has the prettiest ways!" he said involuntarily. 

"You're a good lover, Johnny, " his mother rejoined appreciatively. 

"Nonsense!" said John before he thought, and then pulled himself up. "That is--I don't think a man would have to be in love with her to seethat, " he ended lamely. "I thought they were attractive before I----"

"Exactly, " retorted his mother with distinct skepticism. "That's whyyou--" She paused in mimicry of his breaking off, and, then, as Joycame back, gave him an affectionate little push toward the door. She followed them out to the gate and leaned over it, watching them. "Good-by, children!" she called after them. "Don't be late for luncheon!"

"Don't stand out there in the wind with no wraps, Mother, " advised John. 

"Nonsense!" she replied with spirit. "You have Isabel De Guenther'srheumatism on your mind, that's what's the matter with you. The ideaof a woman of her intelligence giving up to inflammatory rheumatismis simply ridiculous. You don't get things unless you give up to them. "

It was a beautiful doctrine, and doubtless had much to do withmaking Mrs. Hewitt the healthy and dauntless person she was, but ithad its limitations, and John reminded her of them inexorably. 

"You have neuritis when you catch cold in the wind, and you knowit, " he told her. "Do go in, Mother, to please me. "

"You know I'll be back again as soon as you're out of sight, " sheobserved. But she did go in. 

Alas for the power of elderly ladies to keep off neuritis bydefiance! When they came back at twelve-thirty Mrs. Hewitt wasnowhere to be seen. 

"Mrs. Hewitt says she has a slight headache, and will you please notwait luncheon for her: she's having it upstairs, " was the messagethey received. 

"Very well, " said John gravely, and he and Joy proceeded to haveluncheon alone together. 

He glanced smilingly across the table at Joy as she poured his teawith steady little hands. 

"It looks very much as if you were going to have to take charge, more or less, " he said. "That's our friend the neuritis. Mothernever admits it's anything but a headache the first day. Do youthink you can look after things?"

"Why not, if she wants me to?" asked Joy. 

"Well, I can imagine you standing on a drawbridge or a portcullis, or whatever it was they trimmed medieval castles with, and wavingyour hands to the knights going by, " began John teasingly; "but it'sa stretch of imagination to fancy a medieval princess pouring my teaand seeing that my papers are in order ... "

"You _know_ I can't help having red hair, " protested Joy, coming straight to the point. "And if your grandfather had alwaysdressed you in costumes, you couldn't get to be modern all at once, either. I think I'm doing very well. "

John threw back his fair head and laughed. 

The idea of his grandfather, who had been a wholesale hardwaremerchant, with a New England temperament to match, "dressing him incostumes, " was an amusing one, and he said as much. 

Joy laughed, too. 

"Well, there, you see!" she said triumphantly. "There's a great dealin not having handicaps. Why, there was a poet used to write thingsas if he were me, all about that, and I couldn't stop him. One began:

 _'I was a princess in an ivory tower: Why did you sit below and sing to me?'"_

"Well, " said John, as she paused indignantly, "I'll be the goat. Why_did_ he sit below and sing to you?"

"Because he wanted the pull Grandfather could give him, as far as Icould make out, " replied Joy with vigor. "And I don't call it a bitnice way to act!"

She did not quite know why John laughed this time. But she was veryglad that he was not bored at being with her. 

"Oh, Joy, Joy!" he said. "I take it back. You are notmedieval--entirely. Or, if you are, princesses in ivory towers aremore delightful figures than I've always thought them. "

"We aim to please, " said Joy demurely. "But I have to explain that alot, it seems to me. I had it out with Clarence Rutherford only aday or so ago. "

"Oh, you did?" considered John. "Well--don't try to please too hard. Remember that you are supposed to please me; but you don't have toextend your efforts beyond my family circle. "

He was only half in earnest, but he was in earnest at least half. She wondered just what he meant for a moment, then it occurred toher that he meant Clarence, no less. She was on the verge of sayingcomfortingly:

"Clarence is just trying to make me fall in love with him. Hedoesn't count a bit. "

But she stopped herself, remembering that Aunt Lucilla would neverhave said such an unwise thing, let alone Gail. 

"I must go now and see how your mother is, as soon as we arethrough, " she told him instead. 

She found Mrs. Hewitt surrounded by more hot-water bottles than shehad ever thought existed, and reduced to the point where she wasnearly willing to confess to neuritis. 

"I have pains all over me, child, " she announced, "and as long asyou are here I shall continue to describe them, so you'd better run. And if you tell John it's neuritis I shall probably take you over toPhyllis' fountain and drown you the first day I'm up. It will be anannoyingly chilly death if the weather keeps on as it is now----"

She stopped in order to give a little wriggle and a little moan, andsaw John standing in the doorway. 

"How's the neuritis, Mother?" he inquired sympathetically. 

"You know perfectly well, " said his mother without surprise, "that Ican't spare one of these hot-water bottles to throw at you, John, and I think you're taking a despicable advantage. "

"I'll get you some more hot water, " said he placidly, collecting twored bags and a gray one, and crossing to her stationary washstand. 

"There's a lower stratum you might get, Joy, " suggested Mrs. Hewitt, and Joy reached down at the hint and secured the two remainingbottles, which she filled when John was through. 

"That's _much_ better, " Mrs. Hewitt thanked them, with what wasvery like a purr. 

"Incidentally, " said John with concern in his voice, "it's about allanybody can do for you till the weather changes; that and beingcareful of your diet. "

"Yes, and I got it this morning standing out in the damp and chill, watching you out of sight. Watching people out of sight is unlucky, anyway, " said his mother. "I might as well say it, if you won't. AndI don't expect to be able to get up tomorrow, which is Thursday. "

"Thursday?" asked John, sitting down on the couch at the foot of thebed. "Is Thursday some special feast?"

"Thursday's the cook's day out, usually, " explained Joy practically. "But she doesn't need to worry. Dear, if you'll tell me what to do----"

"Usually Nora attends to things that day, " explained Mrs. Hewittsadly, but with a trace of hope in her voice, "but tomorrow she hasa funeral she must attend. Quite a close funeral, she explained tome; the remains was a dear friend!"

Joy smiled down on Mrs. Hewitt like a Rossetti angel. 

"You don't need to worry a bit, " she consoled. "How many meals willshe be gone?"

"Only one, " Mrs. Hewitt told her, with what was obviously alightened heart. "Dinner. "

"Just dinner for us three? Why, I can manage that easily, " said Joyconfidently. "At least--I hope I'll suit. I really can cook. "

"You blessed angel! Of course you'll suit!" said Mrs. Hewitt. "I'mso glad. John _does_ like good meals. "

She moaned a little, rather as if it was a luxury, and turnedcautiously over. 

"You don't have to stay with me any longer, children, " she said. "The last responsibility is off my conscience. And I may state, inpassing, John, that I never imagined you had sense enough to pickout anybody as satisfactory as Joy. "

They both laughed a little, and then John said, abruptly, that hehad to go soon, and swept Joy off with him. Outside the door hestopped short. 

"See here, Joy, you mustn't do things like that, " he said abruptly. "You're a guest, not a maid. "

She set her back against the closed door they had just emerged fromand looked up at him. 

"Please let me go on playing, " she begged him with a little break inher voice. "You know I never had any mother to speak of, any morethan she had any daughter, and--and--please!"

He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to look at it keenly. 

"Do you really like her so, child?" he said. 

Joy hoped he would not feel her cheek burn under his touch. 

"Yes, " she answered simply. "And--and now I must go and plan adazzling menu, please, and look in the icebox without hurting thecook's feelings. It's a case of, 'Look down into the icebox, Melisande!' as Clarence Rutherford would put it. "

But she did not say the last sentence aloud. She only laughed as thephrase presented itself to her. 

"Now, what are you laughing at?" demanded John. 

"If I told you, " said Joy like an impertinent child, "you'd know. And now, dear sir, you have to go out on your rounds. Be sure to beback in time for dinner--my dinner. I'm going to plan it tonight, even if I don't cook it. "

He didn't seem angry at her--only amused. 

"You plan a dinner--fairy princess!" he teased her, looking down at herpicturesque little figure from his capable, broad-shouldered height. 

"See if I can't!" said Joy defiantly. 

And he saw. 

When he got back that evening, cold and tired and a little unhappyover a child in his care who did not seem to be gaining, Joy met himat the door, drawing him into the warmth and light with two littlewarm hands. She had dressed herself in the little blue muslin frockshe had bought herself the morning before. It had a white fichucrossing and tying behind, which gave her the look, somehow, ofbelonging in the house. Her hair was parted demurely and pinned intoa great coil at the back of her head, held by a comb that herecognized as his mother's. What he did not recognize or rememberwas that he had told her once that his dream-girl "had her hairparted--and wore blue--and was connected somehow with an open fire. "But he knew that she looked very sweet and lovely and very much asif she belonged where she was. 

"Oh, come in, dear!" she cried. "You're tired. Come to the fire aminute before you go upstairs. "

She spoke almost as if she were his wife, and he looked less tiredas he came to her. 

"I like being welcomed home this way, " he told her, putting his armaround her, instead of releasing her, and going with her into theliving-room. "Why, Joy, I take it all back about your not being ableto keep house. One look at you would make anybody sure of it.... Areyou doing it all for Mother, dear?" he broke off unexpectedly to askher. "Aren't you doing it a little bit for me"

She looked up at him, flushing. 

"Yes--a little bit--" she said breathlessly. Then she made herselfspeak more lightly. "I did make the dressing and the pudding saucemyself, " she admitted as gaily as she could for a fast-beatingheart. "But I hoped there weren't traces. Is there flour on myface?"

She smiled flashingly at him and tipped her face up provokingly, slipping from his hold where they stood by the fire together. Hemade one step close to her again. 

"You know perfectly well what to expect for a question like that, "he said with an unaccustomed excitement in his voice, and kissed her. 

Usually when he did that Joy made some struggle to escape. Buttonight, in the firelight, a little tired and very glad to see him, she kissed him back, as if she were veritably his. 

He dropped on one knee beside the blaze, drawing her down on thehearth-rug by him. 

"I feel like the man in the fairy-stories, " he said in a voice Joydid not quite know, "who catches an elf-girl in some unfair way, andfinds her turn to a dear human woman in his house. Joy ... Will shestay human?"

Joy's heart beat furiously as she knelt there, held close to hisside. The little head with its great coil of glittering hair drooped. 

"She--she always was human, " she half whispered, her throattightening with excitement. She could feel the blood stealing upover her face. 

"That is no answer, Joy, my dear, " he said softly. 

But it was at this moment that a voice behind the curtains said, "Dinner is served. "

Joy sprang up, but John stayed where he was, his broad shoulders andfair head bent a little forward as he looked into the blaze. 

She touched his arm timidly. 

"John--please--you must go up and see your mother before dinner. "

He roused himself from whatever he had been thinking of and turnedto her. 

"I must, certainly, " he replied, springing up. "I think I amanswered.... Am I not, dear?"

"Why, yes, " said Joy with a little surprise, but as gently andconfidently as ever. "I answered you. I always do what you tell me, don't I?"

He touched her hair lightly and smiled for an answer as he passedher on his way up. She heard him whistling light-heartedly above, asshe, too, stood staring into the fire. 

She hadn't thought that any one could be so very kind and lovely asJohn was being to her tonight. She could feel yet the pressure ofhis arm as he held her beside him. And it was going to last a greatdeal longer--weeks longer! She could be as happy and as much withhim and as much to him as she wanted to. There would be Clarence'smocking love-making, too, for flattery and amusement. And when shehad to go back home, at last, she would have so much happiness, somuch good times, so much love to remember, that it would keep herwarm and happy for years and years!

When John returned, Ms hair damp and nearly straight with brushing, and his eyes still bright with laughter, she was sitting at the headof the table, waiting for him happily. 

"It's a nice world, isn't it?" she suggested like a child. "And doyou like whipped cream in your tomato bisque?"

"It is, and I do, very much. Am I to have it?"

Joy nodded proudly, her eyes shining. 

"I don't know about the world, but you are going to have the whippedcream, " she said, as she felt for the electric push-button in thefloor with one small, circling foot. 

"I might as well tell you now, " said John gaily, "that the bell youare trying to step on is disconnected. Mother unhooked it eightmonths ago, because when she was excited she always forgot andstamped on it. I think we use a glass and a knife. "

"Oh!" said Joy. "Well, I haven't the technique--would you?"

But Nora came in with the soup just then without having been rungfor, having evidently been hovering sympathetically near. 

"Pardon me, Doctor, but the bell is connected up, " she breathed. "Ihooked it up myself as soon as Mrs. Hewitt gave Miss Havenith thehousekeeping. "

It had evidently been a sore point with Nora--and, if the truth weretold, with John, who had an orderly mind. Although he adored hisflyaway, irresponsible mother, it was in spite of her ways and notbecause of them. 

"Do you think you are apt to get excited and step on the bell?" heasked Joy. 

She shook her head. 

"I like things the way they're planned, " she confessed. "They goalong more easily. "

"I suppose, " he meditated aloud, "you might even put a man's collarsin the same place twice running. "

"Where else?" demanded Joy, who was so thoughtful of such thingsthat she was even intrusted with certain duties of the sort forGrandfather. 

"Well, Mother hasn't repeated herself for twenty-eight years, " saidJohn a little wistfully. "She says she doesn't intend to get in arut, nor let me. "

Joy laughed aloud. 

"It must take lots of spare time, hunting new spots!" she said. "I'mafraid I'd think life was too short to take all that trouble. "

"I'm coming to the conclusion that there's nothing you can't do, " he saidirrelevantly. "But I suppose you had a very able godmother--princessesdo, don't they?"

"I have a wishing ring, " Joy explained, entering into the play. "It's very well trained. All I have to do is to tell it things, andit sees to them immediately. "

John went on eating his soup. 

"You look as if you wanted to ask it to do something, " she pursued. 

He looked thoughtful. 

"As a matter of fact, I do; but it seems an unfair advantage to takenot only of a docile wishing ring, but of you, " he stated. 

"Try us and see, " invited Joy, ringing, with a visible satisfactionin things, for the next course. 

So John took courage. 

"It's socks, " he confessed with a boyish shame-facedness. "I--I'dlike to see how you'd look doing them. I can't quite make myself seeyou, even now.... I suppose I'm silly--I'd like to see you sittingunder the light in there, sewing for me, just once. "

"You mean mending, not sewing, " Joy told him cheerfully. However thewishing ring may have felt about the request, the princess wasfrankly delighted, "Have you got many? I do them very fast!"

John still looked doubtful. He still seemed to feel that it was amean advantage to take of the most domesticated ring and princess. 

"You see, " he explained, "Mother's idea is--and it's likely a verygood one--that when socks have holes you throw 'em away and getmore. She doesn't make allowance, though, for one's getting attachedto a pair. And I bought six pairs lately that I liked awfully well, and I hated to see them die.... They're just little holes. "

"I'll get them and do them as soon as we're through dinner, " shepromised. "Won't your mother mind?"

"She'll be delighted, " John promised sincerely. "But she hasn'tthem. I have. "

Accordingly, after dinner Joy demanded them, and John produced them, while she got out her mending-basket, something he had neversuspected her of possessing, he told her. 

She sat down under the lamp with her work, tying on the littlesewing-apron Mrs. Hewitt had given her the day before. 

"Why, they scarcely have holes at all, " she marveled. "I can do lotsmore than these. "

"There are lots more, " said John rather mournfully. But he did notfeel particularly mournful. He was absorbed in the picture she madesitting there by the lamp, near the fire, her red mouth smiling toitself a little, and her black lashes shadowing her cheeks as herhands moved deftly at her work. John himself, on the other side ofthe fire, had a paper across his knees, but he forgot to read it, watching her. She seemed to turn the place into a home, sitting therequietly happy, swiftly setting her tiny, accurately woven stitches. 

John's mother was an adorable playmate, but responsibilities were, to her, something to laugh about. She had always declared that Johnshould have been her father, not her son; and he had always tried tofill the role as best he could. But there had always been things, though he had never admitted it to himself, that he had missed. Itwould have been pleasant to him if there had been some one whoshared his interest in the looks of the place and in the gardens andorchards that were his special pride. He would have liked to havehis mother care about his patients, to play for him in the evenings, perhaps, and to think about his tastes in little things. But thougha tall harp stood in a corner of the living-room, and a piano wassomewhere else, they were not often touched. Mrs. Hewitt waspassionately interested in people. She loved traveling andhouse-parties and fads of all kinds--but she had no roots to speakof. John had never felt so much as if his house was his home as hedid tonight, with the cold rain dashing against the windows outside, and inside the warm light, and the busy girl sitting across fromhim, sewing, and smiling to herself. 

She looked up, as he glanced across at her contentedly, and spoke. 

"I thought you seemed a little down tonight when you came in, John. How is the little La Guardia girl? You were having something of astruggle over her treatment the last time I went with you. "

"By Jove, you have a memory!" said John, seeming a little startled. "The child is worse today, and it was on my mind. How on earth didyou guess it, Joy?"

She only laughed softly. 

"Don't you suppose I'm interested in your affairs? I don't like youto be worried. And I knew Giulia La Guardia was the only patient whowasn't doing well at last accounts. Just what is the trouble?"

John leaned forward and began to tell her about the child. Her blueeyes glanced up and down, back and forth, from him to her sewing, asshe listened, and occasionally asked a question. They had bothforgotten everything but the room and themselves, when they heard agenial male voice in the hall. 

"No, indeed, my dear girl, " it said, "I don't need to be announcedin the very least. I'll go straight in. "

And in just as brief a time as it might take an active young man toshed his overshoes and his raincoat, in walked Clarence Rutherford, as gay as always, and unusually secure of his welcome. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

PIRATE COUSINS TO THE RESCUE

"Thought I'd drop in and tell you some inspiriting news, it's such abeastly night, " said he with _empressement_. "--Princess Melisande!What have they been doing to you?" he broke off to ask tenderly underhis breath. "Our little princess turned into a Cinderella!"

His tone was calculated to induce self-pity in the breast of anoyster. But Joy, though she liked it mildly, did not feel moved totears. Clarence was an interruption, even if a flattering one. 

"My mother is ill, " explained John, when Clarence had greeted himalso in his most setting-at-ease manner. ("Kind of a man who'd tryto make you welcome in your own house!" he growled under his breath. John also felt interrupted. )

But Clarence established himself friendlily in a third chair, andtold Joy with charming masterfulness that she was to put down herwork immediately and listen to him. 

"We're going to get up a Gilbert and Sullivan opera, " said he. "Nowit stands to reason that we have to have you. I can tell by thepretty way you speak you have a good stage delivery, and you haveall sorts of presence. Question is, have you a voice? If so, muchhonor shall be yours. "

"Well, I've had lessons for years, and they say so, " offered Joymodestly. "It's mezzo-soprano--lyric. "

Both men looked at her in surprise. People were always beingsurprised at things she knew--as if she had ever done anything inher life but be trained--for no particular purpose, as it hadseemed. And now everything she knew seemed to be going to be useful, one way or another. Harp lessons, singing lessons, lessons in theproper way to speak Grandfather's poetry--there had never seemed tobe any particular point to any of them. And now everything wasfalling into line. 

"Go on, " said Clarence. "But I forgot, you said you couldn't dance. "

"Only the kind that people do in--bare feet and Greek draperies, andI hate that, " Joy answered deprecatingly. 

"You are a Philistine, " said Clarence. "But it's attractive. "

"One of Grandfather's friends does it for a living, and taught me, asa token of affection and esteem, she called it. Would it be any use?"

"Use?" said Clarence rapturously. "You are exactly what the doctorordered. If I can stun Gail into submission you shall be our leadinglady, with all the real star parts in your grasp. Rehearsals at tensharp, and _I'm_ the director. _Me voici!_"

He rose and made her a deep bow. 

He had, apparently, quite forgotten John, who still sat quietly withhis paper across his knees, listening to them. 

"And where do I come in?" he asked with a little twinkle in his eyes. 

"Oh-oh yes, " returned Clarence genially, "my dear fellow, how couldwe have forgotten you? Good old John, to want a part!"

He sounded to Joy rather too much as if he was saying, "Good old Fido!"

"It's something like saying it to a large dog with a bite, too, " shemeditated naughtily. "Clarence may find that out in a minute. "

She went on with her domestic duties, mending the tiny holes in thesocks in her lap, and smiling secretly to herself. It did not occurto her, but if any one had told her a month before that she would besitting alone with two interesting men, watching their relationsbecoming more and more strained on her account, she would havedenied it flatly. Now that it was happening it seemed quite natural. It had doubtless seemed quite natural to Aunt Lucilla.... She darnedon placidly, while Clarence continued his infuriating efforts to putJohn at ease. 

"There'll be a delightful part for you, old man, " he assured hisfriend tenderly. "Don't worry about that. You'll have your chance. "

The idea of a dominant, large-ideaed, hardworking John Hewitthungering for "his chance" in an amateur comic opera struck Joy asso funny that she couldn't repress a small giggle and a glanceacross at him. John caught her look and gave her an answering gleamof amusement. 

"You have the kindest heart in the world, Rutherford, " said hesedately, "and I'll never forget it of you. ... Joy, my dear, wouldyou mind running upstairs and seeing if Mother needs anything? Andyou may put away those socks you've been doing in my top drawer atthe same time. "

Joy stiffened a little at the tone of easy authority, and thencaught John's eye again. The amused look was still there--that, anda look of certainty that she would help him play his hand. He wasgetting neatly back at Clarence!

She rose meekly. 

"Yes, John, " she said in the very tone she would have used if thealternative had been a beating, and excusing herself to Clarence inthe same meek voice, took herself and her completed work upstairs. 

A glance at her room through the crack of the door told Joy thatMrs. Hewitt was sleeping sweetly. She opened the door of John's roomwith a more fearful heart. It seemed a little frightening to go intohis own private room where he lived. She pushed open the door andtiptoed in. 

It was a large room, very orderly, with a faint, fresh smell ofcigars and toilet water about it--the smell that no amount of airingcan ever quite drive out of a man's room. Joy liked it. The dresser, flanked by a tie-rack, faced her as she came in. She ran to it, jerked out a drawer and stuffed in the socks hurriedly, and turnedto go down again. In the middle of the room she paused for a moment. It was all so intimately, dearly John, and she did love John so!... And what was she, after all, with all her independences andcertainties, but an ignorant, unwise child whom two wise grown menwere using for a pet or a plaything--how could she tell which?

She felt suddenly little and frightened and helpless. The current ofmischief and merriment dropped away from her for a minute, herewhere everything, from the class picture on the wall to the pipe onthe bureau, spoke so of John--of what everything about him meant toher--about what going away from him would mean. She flung herself onher knees beside the narrow iron cot in the corner, her arms outover the pillow where his head rested. 

"Oh, God, please make it all come straight and right!" she begged. "I don't suppose I did what I ought to, and maybe I'm not now, butplease do let things come out the way they should! And if you can'tmake us both happy, make John--but--oh, God, please try to tuck mein too--I do want to be happy so!"

She knelt there a little longer, with her arms thrown out over thepillow. Saying her prayers always comforted her. She waited till shewas quieter. Then she rose resolutely and dried her eyes, and wentdownstairs again, to make her report. 

She found that Clarence was gone. 

"I got rid of him, " John explained serenely to her questioningglance. "You didn't need him particularly, did you, kiddie?"

Joy lifted her eyebrows. 

"Not particularly, " she replied, "but I should have liked to saygood-night to him. "

"I felt exactly that way myself, " responded John cheerfully, "so Idid. I was like the man in the Ibsen parody, who said, 'I will notonly make him _feel_, but be at home!'" He paused a moment, andlooked graver. "Come here, kiddie, " he said. 

Joy had been standing just inside the door all this time, on tiptoefor flight. She came slowly over in response to his beckoning hand, and he drew her down to a stool beside him, keeping his arm around her. 

"Little girl, " he said, "you're young, and you're inexperienced, andI don't want to see you let Rutherford go too far. I'd rather youdidn't take part in this affair he's getting up. "

Joy started back from his encircling arm, and looked at himreproachfully. 

"Oh, John! Why, I want to _dreadfully!_"

"It isn't that I want to take any pleasure away from you, " heexplained. "It's simply that the opera would of necessity throw youinto closer contact with Clarence--and I don't think you quiteunderstand what Clarence is. He is very attractive, but, as I havetold you before, he is not a man I would trust. A man who goes asdeliberately about making women in love with him as he does, with afrank admission to other men that he collects them, isn't a man Iwant you to have much to do with. "

Joy moved away from the arm entirely. She felt hurt. 

"In other words, you're afraid he'll toy with my young affections?"she answered flippantly. "Very well--let him try! Goodness knowshe's labeled loudly enough. Every time he comes within a milesomebody says that about him. Everything about him says it foritself, for the matter of that. It isn't any secret. Let him toy! Itamuses him and doesn't hurt me. "

"If I could be sure it wouldn't hurt you--" said John in a lowvoice. "He is very fascinating, Joy. "

There was a note of pain in John's voice, but Joy did not heed it. 

"_You_ are hurting me!" she said angrily, rising. "How can you----"

She did not finish. She had been going to say, "How can you talkthat way when I belong to you?" but she had not the courage. Hecould never know how much she belonged to him. "I very much want tobe in this opera, and I think I shall, " she said definitely. 

"I have no way of preventing you, " he answered coldly. 

"But can't you trust me not to be silly?" she asked in a softertone. "Oh, John, I'll promise not to let Clarence break my heart. Ipromise not to let _anything_ break it. Good-night. "

She gathered up her mending-basket, set her chair carefully where ithad belonged, and went slowly out of the room without another word. 

She did not know how John would greet her next morning. But heproved to be no more of a malice-bearing animal than she, and whenshe smiled brightly at him over the coffee-cups he smiled back inquite as friendly a fashion, and they had a very cheerful breakfasttogether--so cheerful that John was late getting out on his rounds. At the door he paused, looking back at her. 

"Look here, kiddie, I wasn't fair about that thing last night, " hesaid. "I've been thinking it over. I haven't a right in the world toask you to keep out of something that would give you pleasure. Go onand play all the parts there are in it if you like. I'll be in itmyself, in the 'nice part' Rutherford is so considerately saving upfor me--" he grinned--"and----"

"And if you see me being swept off my feet you can wave yourhandkerchief, or something, " ended Joy for him, and they bothlaughed. And so peace was restored, and Joy went on about hermorning duties with a happy heart. It seemed to her, as she thoughtof him while she worked, that he had been unwontedly tender of heras he bade her good-by. She could not think why. At any rate she wasvery happy, and she sang as she sat at the living-room desk, afterher morning inspection of the ice-box, writing out the list for themarketing, and the menus for that day's luncheon and dinner. 

The maids took a deep interest in her, and if instant obedience andwilling service meant anything, approved of her. This was the daywhen she was going to have to get the dinner all herself, and shewas looking forward to it with pleasure. She had never been left toherself to do anything at home, because Grandmother and oldElizabeth had seen her toddle into the kitchen and "want to help"when she was four, and they therefore honestly thought she was fourstill where judgment was concerned. 

As she sat and hummed to herself and wrote, the telephone rang. Shesprang to it with that unquestioned obedience which telephone-bellscow us into, and listened. The Harrington children had called her upa couple of times, and she thought it might be Philip. Or maybeClarence. But instead, she heard Gail's slow, assured voice. 

"Clarence has been telling me the sad story of your life, " shedrawled, "and implores me to rescue you. I'm coming over to do it ina moment or so--as soon as I can detach Harold Gray from my side.... I've told him he also must devote himself to your service, so expecthim along some time today. "

She hung up without waiting for an answer, before Joy could doanything. She sat back in her chair, staring out the window indismay. She had no idea what Clarence might have said aboutanything, but she devoutly wished he hadn't said it. She did notwant Gail in her house. She caught herself up. That was the way shewas coming to think of it--her house!

"Well, it isn't, " she reminded herself. "After all, I'm a pilgrimand a stranger, and Gail is an old friend. "

She returned to her list and her planning, though the fun was allout of it; and when Gail arrived a half-hour later, a bunch ofchrysanthemums in her belt and a small grip in her hand, she greetedher with admirable calm. 

She wished for a moment that Clarence had seen fit to come himself. He might say too familiar things, but at least there was anundertone of admiration about him very comforting in Gail'shalf-scornful presence. Also he sat on Gail occasionally in a calmand brotherly manner which cheered. 

"Poor little Cinderella!" Gail greeted her. "I hear that Mrs. Hewitthas dropped all the housekeeping on your shoulders, John makes youdo all the sewing--including his clothes, I suppose--and treats youlike a ten-year-old child. Even allowing for Clarence's passionatetransports you seem to be quite painfully noble in youracquiescence.... I have come to see to this!"

Joy stiffened. 

"Thank you, I am perfectly happy, " she stated untruthfully. "Won'tyou sit down?"

Gail flung her hat and cloak on a distant settee, and dropped hergrip at her feet. 

"Not till I go up and see poor^dear Mamma Hewitt, " she answered. "Poor darling, she must be lonely!"

She sauntered out of the room, leaving Joy at the desk. She was downagain in a few minutes. Gail never seemed to hurry. She merely gotwhere she wanted to be with no visible effort. She nodded to Joy asshe entered the room again, and dropped into a morris chair. 

"Mrs. Hewitt says I am to go as far as I like, " she informed Joy, half-amusedly. "Mother never seems to want any help at home, thankgoodness, and all I have to do over there is to amuse little friendswho drop in. You get tired of that after awhile. I told Clarence tosend away any suitors who might trail over!"

She flung her arms up over her head and laughed a little to herself, stretching her whole indolent, graceful body. 

"I like new things to amuse myself with, " she informed Joy. "Nowyou'll send the maids in. "

Joy did not like any of this. And she found herself more and morecertain that she did not like Gail Maddox. 

"If she has all those lovers, " she thought resentfully, like achild, "why doesn't she stay home and play with them instead ofcoming over here where we were perfectly happy without her?"

But she was too proud to do anything about it, so instead of goingup to Mrs. Hewitt's bedroom to appeal to Caesar she went to thekitchen without further comment, and informed the maids that Mrs. Hewitt had decided Miss Maddox was to have charge for the day. 

The lively chorus of growls with which this was received cheeredJoy's unregenerate heart. She did not stay to either soothe orencourage the rebellion. 

"I've told the maids, " she said colorlessly to Gail, returning. 

"Good infant, " said Gail, and proceeded to gather the flowers out ofthe vases where Joy had herself arranged them a half-hour before, and rearrange them. 

Joy watched her for a minute or so. Then--"You aren't going to needme?" she asked with a misleading quietness. "Because if you aren'tI--I have something to do for a little while. "

"Not a bit. Run along, " granted Gail. "I'll have some toil ready foryou when you get back, if you like. "

Joy was like the lady in the poem, who died in such a hurry. 

 "She did not stop to don her coat, She did not stop to smooth her bed. "

She fled hatless in the direction of a place that had always meantsoothed feelings and comfort generally, the Harrington house. Phyllis wouldn't be there, to be sure, but the place would have herpeace and sunniness about it. 

The children were ranging up and down the garden paths with squealsand shouts of happiness which were, apparently, merely because oflife in general. They fell upon her with still wilder shouts; or atleast Philip did, while Angela clung as far up as she could reach. 

Joy hugged all the children she could reach with a warm sense ofgratitude to them for wanting her, and (still led by gratitude)entered enthusiastically into tag herself. It was quite new to her, because she had never played children's games, but she found thatshe liked it exceedingly.... Suppose Gail did go slidingly aroundexplaining to everybody convincingly that everybody else was in lovewith her--suppose it was even true? Why, even then--when you'reyoung and alive it's fun to go running up and down a garden in thestimulating October air. 

They ended in the big swing. Philip insisted on doing most of thepushing, because, as he explained, they were all girls and hewasn't. Joy held little Angela fast, and gave herself up to thedelight of being swung. Philip pushed her higher and higher, tillthey were both screaming with pleasure, and, when the swing was atthe top, could see over the tall hedge to the road outside. 

There was something chugging inquiringly out there. And it was--itwas, indeed, John's little doctor-car. And it held John, and it wasslowing up. As these facts, one by one, became apparent to Joy andAngela in their excursions above the hedge, there was greathappiness in the garden. 

"I knew he'd come!--He said he'd come!" announced Philip gleefully, pushing like mad. "He said he would! He's been here every day sincethey went. I asked him yesterday"--these sentences were interspersedwith the pantings necessary to pushing a swingful of ladies--"Iasked him whyn't he stay for dinner, and he said--he said he wantedto go home an' have luncheon wiv Joy. So I s'pose he'll stay today, long's you're here. "

In Joy's naughty mind a Great Idea sprang to birth. Whyn't he stay, indeed? He didn't know about Gail's coming to brighten his fireside, and there wasn't any reason why he should. 

"He'll stay if I can make him, " she told Philip gaily. 

In the back of her head--she should unquestionably have had herhands slapped--there was a beautiful and complete picture of Gailbeing insolently alluring to three empty chairs and a luncheon tableand four unoccupied walls. 

"See John!" screamed Angela, trying to clap her hands, and having tobe grabbed hastily so she shouldn't fall out of the swing. "Johnny!Johnny! Come in!"

John looked up in time to see the swing before it went downwardagain. He waved his hand as it came up, and the third time it roseJoy saw the car still, but no John. He was coming in. 

He appeared a moment later, striding over the lawn. The childrendashed for him, as usual. 

"Johnny, Johnny!" they clamored. "She says you can stay to lunch!She says she will if you will. "

With the way made so easy for her erring feet, what could Joy saybut "Don't you want to?"

She did not insist. 

But John accepted on the spot with unsuspecting heartiness, andPhilip solved the last problem by scampering off over the rustlingleaves to telephone that John wouldn't be home for luncheon. 

So they had a very merry luncheon, though an occasional whiff ofguilt made Joy fall silent--which was not noticeable, becausePhilip's conversation flowed on brightly in all the breaks, andsometimes when there weren't any. 

"Want me to take you back, Joy?" John asked when they were done, looking down at her quizzically, as he had a trick of doing. "Gailmust want you by this time. "

"Gail!" stammered Joy. Then her courage came back, as it usually didwhen she summoned it, and she laughed. 

"Heavens, I am discovered!" she quoted. "Why, John, you don't meanto tell me you ran away too?"

"I didn't run away, " countered John. "I promised Philip yesterdaythat I'd stay here to luncheon with him. In fact, I think I promisedto summon you. I stopped at the house to do it just now and foundyou here already. I explained matters to Gail, and she is up inMother's room, having her luncheon there. "

He turned to the children. "Say good-by to Joy now, infants--I'mgoing to take her away with me. "

"You do that a great deal of the time, it seems to me, " observedPhilip regretfully. "But of course, I suppose she really does belongto you. "

"Exactly, " laughed John, lifting the little boy up to kiss him. "Shedoes. Come, my property. "

They got into the car amicably, laughing over Philip. But Johnwasn't through with her. 

"Was it quite courteous, my dear, " he asked gently, but with acertain firmness, "to leave Gail that way? It was only a chance thatI was able to explain it. In a sense she was a guest in your house. "

Joy flamed up. 

"Was it quite courteous of Gail, " she demanded passionately, "tocome in and take my house away from me, and demand that I hand herover the housekeeping--no, not demand it, calmly take it?"

John looked a little perplexed for the moment, which gave Joy timeto calm down a little, and remind herself that men were like that. 

"Somehow one doesn't expect Gail to be considerate, " he explainedfinally. "It--well, it isn't one of her qualities. I think I heardher say once that she had never found it necessary. But you--Iexpect so much more of you, Joy!"

One would suppose that this might have been soothing. John seemed toconsider it so. But it wasn't. 

"She's so charming that nobody expects anything else of her, " Joyflashed back, "and I have to be good, because all people can like mefor is my goodness--is that what you mean?"

And she stood up, as the car slowed before the Hewitt house, andsprang out. She had seen Clarence Rutherford sunning himselfexpectantly on the steps. 

"There's the man who sent her over, if you approve of it all sohighly, " were her departing words to John. "I promise not to beinhospitable to him!"

She waved her hand. 

"Mr. Rutherford!" she called. "Come on down and go off somewherewith me!"

Clarence unfolded himself with more haste than usual, and obliged. 

"To the end of the world, Sorcerette, or any little place likethat, " he said sweetly. "I have no car, alas, but I can telephonefor one. "

"No, don't, " said Joy, whose one idea was to get away. "Just go intothe house and bring me my cap and any wrap you can find. "

She did not dare look back to John. She felt she was beingeverything she oughtn't to, but she also felt that she had cause. 

"Here's your hat, " said Clarence, coming out with it, and refrainingfrom completing the quotation. "Where do you want to go? I have manybeautiful plans to offer you, principally about your being leadinglady in my comic opera. You are going to have to get an extension ofparole from the dear ones at home. "

"Oh, do you really think I can act in it?" asked Joy happily as theywent down the leafy road together. She gave a little frisk as she spoke. 

"Of course you can, " said he. "As a matter of fact, that's myprincipal reason for getting it up. I have a book that contains allthe Gilbert librettos in my most bulging pocket. You and I willwander out into the wonderful autumn woods, and sit down on a soft, pleasant log, and pick out the opera, and the cast, and be happygenerally. Only I won't play unless, as. I explained last night, youare a leading lady with a real star part. As I'm a wonderful stagemanager I feel strongly that it will be thus. "

"Thank you, " said Joy amiably but absently. Something appalling hadjust occurred to her. 

"Good gracious, " she told him, "it's a special occasion, and thecook and the waitress are both going off to funerals or something, and Gail is going to have to get that whole dinner single-handed!"

CHAPTER TWELVE

DINNER FOR FIVE

Clarence smiled most agreeably. 

"You should try to be more of an optimist, dear Joy, " he reproved. "Try to live up to your name. "

"I got it out of Blake, " said Joy, "or they did--and I never did seewhy you should live up to a name your grandfather pinned on you outof a poetry book. "

"Pardon this seeming curiosity, " hinted Clarence, "but didn't youever have any parents, not even to the extent of their having achance to name you?"

"They died before I was born, " Joy explained. "At least, as much asthey could. My father quite did and my mother died before I was aweek old. So Grandfather had it all to do, as far as naming went. You know that horrid poem--

 _"I have no name-- I am but three days old:"_

"And it's called Infant Joy, and so was I. "

"They seem to have begun wrecking your taste for literature early, "observed Clarence. 

"Oh--literature!" said Joy wearily. 

"Your tone hints that we didn't come off to discuss the poets. Youare quite right, Sorcerette. When two charming young persons likeourselves are alone together on a wonderful fall afternoon theyshould discuss only each other. And you must admit that myreferences to literature were only incidental to yourself. "

"Well, anyway, " stated Joy, pausing as they strolled, and beginningto braid into a garland a handful of wild asters she had gathered, "anyway, I ought to go back to the house and help Gail get dinner. John likes things just so. "

"Heavens, how marital!" sighed Clarence, wincing. Then suddenly heseemed more in earnest than Joy had ever known him. "Can't you evertalk or think of anything but the admirable John? How on earth didhe get you so thoroughly broken in?"

Joy's cheeks flamed. 

"He didn't 'break me in, '" she defended. "But I think I ought to seeto it that things are all right. You see, when your cousin came andoffered to take over the housekeeping--if she wasn't your cousin, Imight say she got it away from me--she thought she was helpingherself to a 'nice, clane, aisy job, ' as the Irishman said aboutbeing a bishop. It really isn't fair to let her in for work shedidn't expect. "

The look Clarence bent on her this time held genuine admiration. 

"I think it is exceedingly fair, " was all he said. 

"Really?" she asked. She certainly did not want to go back to thehouse, and, noble as Clarence might think her, she didn't feel a bitlike taking orders from Gail. 

"She has made her bed--or it may even be, her beds, " said Clarence. "Now why don't you let her lie in it, or them?"

"Well, I don't want to go home, " said Joy a little sadly. 

"Let us be optimists, as I suggested some yards back, " said Clarencecheerfully. "Let us think of the wonderful effect it will all haveon Gail's moral nature. By the time she has produced theeight-course dinner which I gather the worthy Dr. Hewitt requires tokeep him the good citizen he is, she will be ennobled to a terribledegree. You have heard of the ennobling influence of toil, dearchild?"

"I have, but I never believed in it, " said Joy. "It makes you cross, especially peeling potatoes, and it's bad for your hands. Andjudging by the number of maids who steal, it doesn't work at all. "

"I suppose, " Clarence resigned himself, "that if Melisande werestill spared to us in the flesh, she really would have talked thisway, except that she would have used a few more dots. But one is anidealist. One is jarred. If you could recite, in your soft, clear-cut voice that is so admirably adapted for poetry, a fewstanzas of something heartbreaking----" voluntarily. 

Joy, not unnaturally, lost patience. 

"I have spent my whole life, or a lot more of it than I want to, reciting heartbreaking poetry, " she told him. "If you want it, gobuy a phonograph record. And if you want me out here in the woodswith you, stop talking about it!"

She really shouldn't have been so cross. Clarence was supposed to bevery clever when he talked. But just then she was only halflistening to him, and there came a sudden vision of the nightbefore--the cozy room, and the wood fire, and John across from her, smiling gravely at her, and talking in a way that didn't make herfeel, as Clarence's way did, that he was laughing at her underneath, when he thought she couldn't see. 

John had told her once that his ideal girl wore something white orblue, and had her hair parted, and was connected in his mind someway with a wood fire. And he had talked and acted as if she was thatgirl. She'd had on the little blue dress that she'd bought, and madelook modern with a fichu of Mrs. Hewitt's.... 

Clarence's voice interrupted her thoughts, rather plaintively. 

"Dear Joy! I _will_ buy a phonograph record! I will buy a wholealbum of them. I will purchase a copy of the Last Ravings of JohnMcCullough, and have it rave to me the last thing every night, as apenance, if you will only stop looking off into space, and give atleast a fair imitation of knowing that I exist. "

Joy's heart misgave her. She really wasn't being very polite. 

"Of course you exist, " she said penitently. "And you are very niceand polite, in your way, and you must make allowance for my notbeing clever. I keep telling you that all the time. "

"I am delighted that you are not, as you call it, clever, " saidClarence with undoubted sincerity. "You lack verbal dexterity of acertain kind, because you have never associated freely with peopleyou could be disrespectful to. But you are quite a new kind of girl, or else a survival, and I adore you for it. I never thought I wasgoing to adore any one so much. Why, I even think it is humorouswhen you sit on me, and that, my dear, is a very bad symptom. Inshort, I am very much in love with you. "

Clarence had a habit of talking that way, and Joy didn't pay muchattention to it. In a phrase of his own, it was like kissing overthe telephone--it didn't get you anywhere, but it had a cunningsound. It has a warming feeling to think that any one is in lovewith you, even if you know they aren't. She said as much. 

But Clarence became what was, for him, sulky. Clarence had onecurious thing about him: he never showed his temper at all, but youcouldn't be with him ten minutes without being morally certain thathe had a very bad and sullen one, which he merely kept concealed forreasons of his own. Whereas John Hewitt's temper, whichundisguisedly was in existence, wasn't a thing you ever thought ofexcepting rather amusedly and affectionately. It was such alittle-boy thing in comparison with the grown-up, responsible restof him! It would undoubtedly appear some time this afternoon orevening. At the thought of it Joy felt her usual affectionateamusement. When it was over he would be very sorry. 

"You haven't told me anything about the comic opera yet, " she hintedto Clarence, who had been quite silent for the last while. "Don'tyou want to?"

"I do!" said Clarence, coming out of his muse and turning into hisordinary self. "We will sit down on the next stump or stone we see, and go into the matter thoroughly. "

It was a large flat stone, with a tree for Joy to lean against. Theysat down on it, and Clarence pulled the libretto book out of hispocket, and they went to work. 

Joy knew the Gilbert and Sullivan operas from a copy of the wordsthat had always been around the house. So there was no delay whileshe read the book through, as Clarence seemed to have expected. 

"To my mind it lies between 'Patience' and 'Iolanthe, '" saidClarence. "The 'Mikado' has been done to death, and so has 'Trial byJury. ' And 'Princess Ida' is too full of blank verse, and the men'ssolos are too hard. "

So far as Joy was concerned nothing had been done to death. Shewould quite willingly have been the humblest chorus-girl in"Pinafore, " if Clarence had willed to have that much-done classic. But he seemed determined to have her play a large part in whateverit was, and to have whatever it was _Iolanthe_. He wanted to be_Strephon_, it seemed; in fact, he had been. And he wanted Joyfor the _Phyllis_ or _Iolanthe_. 

Joy had a faint feeling that Phyllis Harrington ought to have thepart with her own name, but Clarence explained that names hadnothing whatever to do with it unless you were a movie star, whenyou used your first name in order to make the public more interestedin your personality. 

"We will give Gail the part you don't want, " he told her, "as apunishment for not letting you cook your eight-course dinnertonight. By the way, we must time ourselves to get back and eat it. I wonder whether Gail can cook. On second thoughts, why not stay outtill it's over?"

"The play!" said Joy imperatively. 

"Well, " he said, yielding, "would you rather be a fairy princess ora shepherdess from Arcady? I'd prefer to have you the shepherdess, for personal reasons. I wish to be the shepherd. "

"Whatever you say, " said Joy absently. "It's getting colder. Hadn'twe better walk a little?"

"Very well, " said Clarence. "We can argue as we walk. "

The problem of making sixteen young women willing to be a chorus andof finding sixteen or twenty young men to be anything, took themquite a while to discuss. They walked on as they talked, until itbegan to get darker. 

"By the way, have you any idea where we are?" inquired Clarence, stopping short to look about him. "New England woods are not mynative habitat. "

"Nor mine, " said Joy, startled. "I think we ought to go back to thehigh road. "

"If there's any left to go back to, " suggested Clarence. "We've beenon one way-path after another so long that I don't think I couldfind it again. "

They turned around, and continued to follow way-paths back. Clarencehad no pocket compass, such as people who get lost ought to possess. And it was getting relentlessly darker and darker. Joy had neverbeen lost before, and she was surprised to find the feeling of panicthat possessed her when she grasped the fact that neither of themknew where they were. Finally they gained a clear space where therewas a tolerably traveled-looking road. 

"If we wait here somebody may come along, " said Clarence. "Jove, I'mhungry!"

"So am I, " said Joy. 

But there wasn't anything to do about _that_. Finally Joyremembered that she had some chocolate in her little handbag, andthey divided it and ate it. After that life was a little brighter. 

"Do you suppose we'll have to stay here all night?" demanded Joy. "We'll freeze to death if we do. "

"No, I don't, " said Clarence. "But, Joy dear, if we do----"

The mockery was all out of his voice. 

"Oh, don't talk about it!" she exclaimed. "Surely somebody will comeget us--or couldn't we go up this road till we find a farmhouse?"

"If you like, " said Clarence. 

They rose and walked on for a while. 

"Oh, listen!" Joy whispered. "I hear something!"

"It's a car, " said Clarence hopefully. 

And it was. It was John's car, with John in it, and the temper Joyhad been thinking of tenderly was with him. He was evidentlythoroughly angry, for he scarcely spoke, even when he found them. 

"See here, Hewitt, " Clarence protested. "You aren't doing the thingat all properly. You should say, 'My own! At last I have found you!'instead of backing up the car with a short sentence like that. "

What John had said, as a matter of fact, was, "Get in the car. It's late. "

He did come to a little at Clarence's flippant reminder, and smiledreluctantly. 

"Well, you see, it was self-evident. I _had_ found you both. Yououghtn't to have walked so far if you didn't know where you were going. "

"It is also self-evident that it is late, " said Clarence stiffly, and, it must be confessed, a little sulkily. "Nevertheless, we'rehaving a very pleasant time.... Is dinner over?"

John, for no apparent reason, smiled frankly at this. "Not in theleast, " he said. "They are waiting dinner till the prodigals'return. My mother has had hers sent up to her, but Gail and yourfriend Tiddy are kindly keeping the rest of it hot. "

It is a quicker journey in a car than when you stroll leisurelyalong, discussing light opera and your disposition. They weresurprised to find how near, comparatively, they were, to the village. 

"Joy, do you suppose I am invited to dinner?" asked Clarence in astage whisper. "If it is not thus I shall probably starve by theroadside, because Gail sent her mother to a bridge-and-high-teabefore she went, and the maids there had no orders about food. That's why I was prowling about the hospitable Hewitt mansion. "

Joy couldn't help smiling. "I think you must be, " she said. 

But she didn't understand John's allusion to Tiddy. He was abjectlydevoted to Gail, but it did seem that devotion had its limits, whenit came to following her to somebody else's house. 

"What is Tiddy doing in these parts?" Clarence asked for her, aspeople so often do ask your questions for you if you only give themtime. "Dinner-party, is it?"

"Tiddy, " said John dryly, "is making himself useful. "

"That is nothing at all new in Tiddy's life, " said Gail's cousin. "People who dwell about Gail do. Am I to understand that he is chiefcook and bottle-washer?"

"You are, " said John. 

They got out and went into the house, Joy feeling as mussy as only agirl can who has been away from home all day. She followed thecurious-minded Clarence into the kitchen. 

The sight that met their eyes was an interesting one. The kitchenwas a pleasant sight to any one from outside, being warmed andlighted. It was further decorated by Gail, in a very low andclinging black frock trimmed with poppies, which it occurred to Joymust have been in the grip. She was sitting in absolute idleness ina kitchen chair, with her feet on a footstool, and Tiddy, swathed inan apron with pink checks, was engaged at the kitchen range. 

"Good work, old boy!" Clarence called out to him. "What have you got?"

Tiddy turned a scarlet face toward him, and waved one hand, with aspoon in it. 

"Gail said there had to be a good dinner, " he said worriedly, "but Idon't know how to make many things. This is soup.... It doesn't lookright to me, somehow. Come here, Clarence, and give it a once over. "

Joy, leaning against the lintel with John a little behind her asusual, couldn't help but admire Gail. She knew perfectly well thatit would never have occurred to her in Gail's place to sit placidlyin a chair while a lad who ought to have been at home studying-Tiddywas cramming to catch up with his class at college--wrestled withthe stove. But, after all, that was the sort of thing she had alwaysread of sirens doing. And even if the victim was only a littlecollege boy, of what Clarence called frying size, it was a sight tomake one wishful. Also apprehensive--mightn't Gail set John peelingpotatoes next? That sight would be an annoying one from various angles. 

John showed no signs of being about to yield, at least at themoment. He joined Clarence in teasing Tiddy, who took it verysweetly, but he finally came forward and showed the lad how tomanage the drafts. 

"Call us when you're ready, Cookie, " said Clarence amiably, andsauntered out. John followed him. 

"Can't I help?" asked Joy, staying conscientiously behind. She stillfelt that it was her responsibility. 

"Not a bit, " said Gail. "We're getting along wonderfully. You'dbetter go up and get straightened out, though--you look blown tobits. Oh, and send John back as you go through, Tiddy can't do thedrafts right. "

Joy went out obediently. 

"John, I am to send you back as I go through. Tiddy can't do thedrafts right, " she repeated in a colorless voice that had angerunderneath it, and walking on as she spoke. 

"Drafts--nonsense--Gail's lonesome, " Clarence answered cheerfully, from the couch where he had thrown himself. 

"All right, " said John, who was the soul of politeness, but anannoyingly dense person compared to Clarence, it seemed to Joy. Hewent out. Joy ran upstairs as fast as she could go. She arrived atthe top, breathless and still angry, and remembered that she oughtto go in and see Mrs. Hewitt. But the lights were low, generally asign that the lady was asleep, so she went on to her own room. 

"Blown to bits!" she said to herself bitterly, stopping opposite herconfidant, the mirror. "And _she_ sitting on a chair lookinglike Marie Antoinette being taken to execution in a kitchen chair!"

It was a breathless and tautological remark, but it relieved herfeelings. "I oughtn't to feel that way, " she reminded herself. "Because after all, Gail _was_ here first!"

This didn't seem to make much difference in the feelings. And it wasunquestionable that she was blown about, and very young and owned noblack dress with poppies, nor yet any college boy who would cook forher at a wave of the hand. 

She pawed her wardrobe through furiously. Joy was always verydependent for encouragement on the clothes she wore. The proper gowncould make her feel the way it looked, always. They almost had moodssewed into them around the bottom, she thought sometimes. 

The way she had felt last time she wore the amber satin with thepoem to it, that one she had hated so furiously--could she feel thatway again if she put on the dress? She'd felt young--oh, yes, but asif youth were a perfectly splendid thing to have. And very alive, and superior, and rebellious. And ready to have a lover, and totreat him, if necessary, like a dog--like a whole kennel of dogs!

So she put it on. She made herself exactly the little princess ofGrandfather's reception days, trailing chiffon panels, swingingjewel-filleted braids and all, and swept downstairs with her head high. 

Tiddy had by this time managed to get the dinner on the table, andthe other two men, out of sheer pity, were helping him. In fact, having enthroned Gail at the table, they were making a frolic of thewhole thing. 

"Here, catch the steak, Rutherford, " John was saying cheerfully. AndClarence, with carving-knife and fork outheld, was making as neat acatch as possible. 

"Here, Tiddy, don't try to stagger in along under those biscuits. You made 'em. That kind takes two strong men--I know, I've eatenyour biscuits before. "

"I made these the regular way, with yeast, " said Tiddy in an injuredvoice. "_I_ couldn't help it if they didn't rise in the oven. Go rag the cookbook. "

Joy could stand it no longer. Forgetting her real state, she rushedout on them, where they wrestled with the dinner and Tiddy. Theywere playing handball with the biscuits by this time. 

"Oh, _Tiddy!_ You didn't put _yeast_ in those biscuits!"she reproached him. "Why, you poor unfortunate boy, yeast has torise over night, or an afternoon anyhow! They're no use!"

They all three stopped simultaneously at the vision which she hadquite honestly forgotten she presented. Tiddy listened humbly, andClarence made a low bow. 

"The Queen came in the kitchen, speaking bread and honey, " he quotedappositely, while John looked both pleased and proud. 

"There, I told you so, " he said with triumph. "I said you were inwrong with those biscuits. Joy always knows. "

"'It was the very best butter, '" quoted Tiddy (who was not without asense of humor), from "Alice. "

"But what can we do?" asked John, who was concentrated on thesituation. "The steak's all right--any idiot can broil steak, asTiddy has proved--" he had to stop short to dodge a biscuit--"andthe soup came out of a can, so maybe that'll do. But there isn't abit of bread, and we simply have to have it. At least I suppose so. "

"Get me an apron, please, " Joy asked of the surroundings, and twoaprons were offered her excitedly by three willing hands. She pinnedboth on, as a precaution against ruining the amber satin, though shedidn't much mind if it had been ruined, and began by investigatingthe soup. It was the best canned tomato bisque, but its cook had notknown or read that it should be watered, or milked, and it was sothick it was almost stiff. She sent Clarence for milk out of therefrigerator, and treated it properly. Then she looked at thebiscuits, such as had escaped destruction. They were indeed hopeless. 

"I can make biscuits in a minute, but it will take a half-hour tobake them in this range, " she told them, where they stood, anxiouslyawaiting her verdict. "If you didn't mind having them baked on agriddle----"

"Like the ones the fellow does in the window at Childs'! Fine!"responded Tiddy enthusiastically. "I'll get the griddle. I'velearned where everything grows. "

He produced it accordingly, and watched Joy, as did the others, entranced, while she mixed and cut out biscuits, and baked them inthe griddle scone-fashion. 

They made it a triumphal procession after that, with the biscuitsborne high by Tiddy before Joy, who came in carrying the steak, followed by Clarence and John with a dish of canned vegetablesapiece. It was far from being the dinner Joy had planned, but thebiscuits were greatly admired, and every one was happy. That is, Joywas, and apparently the men were. Joy was so pleased to think thatshe had been able to straighten out things, and get them a gooddinner, that she forgot to think about Gail at all. She sat in thetall armchair at the head of the table where John had placed her, and poured coffee in big cups, to be taken with the dinner, withflushed cheeks and a gay heart. 

"But what I want to know is, " demanded Clarence, "why nobody's everseen that frock before. "

"I have, " John answered from the foot. "Joy had that on the veryfirst time I saw her, amber beads and crown and all. I never thoughtthen I'd see her making my biscuits in it. "

"It's an allegory, " said Clarence. "Man captures the beautifulprincess of his dream, and sets her to drudging in his kitchen. _I_think there is something sad but sweet, as Shaw would say, about it. "

"But I wanted to make the biscuits!" cried Joy before she thought. "If I hadn't there wouldn't have been any for dinner--and you_had_ to have dinner. "

"They didn't at all, " said Gail. "You spoil men. If you always say, 'But he has to have it!' and then go tearing around getting it forhim, why----"

She shrugged her shoulders. 

"There are excellent biscuits a half-mile away, at the baker's inthe village, and a motor-car outside. "

Joy laughed blithely. 

"But you see, I'm not used to a motor-car. I'm not motor-people atall.... Well, I suppose when you live with a poet you get in thehabit of feeling you must do what people want of you. Grandfatherwas so great, you see, we felt it was--well, only polite. At leastGrandmother brought me up that way. "

"I--I say! Was your grandfather _the_ Alton Havenith!"exclaimed Tiddy, opening his eyes widely. "The one in all thereaders and cram-books and anthologies?"

"Is. " corrected Joy. "He's quite alive. Yes, that's Grandfather--andthis is one of my dresses for his receptions, " she added as anafterthought. 

"Good _gracious!_" breathed Tiddy reverently. They were at thecanned peaches and pound-cake by this time. "I--I suppose youcouldn't say any of his things?" he ended diffidently. He wasevidently a worshiper. 

Joy felt quite herself by now, the old self-possessed Joy of thesalon and recitations. 

"Well, not over the dessert, " she said, laughing. "But as soon asdinner is over, if you want me to. There's one I say to a harp. There's a harp here. "

"Can you play a harp, too?" demanded Clarence, "as well as makebiscuits? See here, Tiddy, you forget your position in life. You'rea cook. Get thee to the kitchen, while Joy entertains us, who arethe real quality folks. "

"Nonsense, " smiled John. "We'll leave things as they are--can't we, Joy?"

He led the way into the parlor and uncovered the harp for her. Noone would have guessed by his demeanor that this was the first signhe had had of Joy's accomplishment--he was as matter-of-fact aspossible about it. Only once he smiled across at her secretly, as ifthey had something private between them, as she asked him whichthing he thought she had better say to begin with, and named oneimmediately. 

She flung back the chiffon that trailed down one slim, round arm, and, after a little preliminary tuning, began to play. It was "ToMyrtilla at Seventeen" that John had suggested, and harp-music wentwell with it. Then she went on to more. She had never thought thatGrandfather would help her this way!

They kept her at the harp most of the evening. From Grandfather'spoems she slid to some of Grandmother's old songs, plaintive oldthings of Civil War days. She was earnestly trying to make herguests and John's have as good a time as lay in her power, and shenever thought about Gail, quiet and quite out of the center of thestage, at all. 

Tiddy, rapt and worshipful, clung close to her till the evening wasover. 

"I say, " he told her when the others were going, "you--do you know, you're wonderful! I--do you mind if I come over tomorrow? There's alot of things I'd like to ask you about Alton Havenith. I--could I?"

"Why, of course, " said Joy, with her usual eager desire to doanything nice she could for people. 

He thanked her fervently, and went with obvious reluctance. Gail wasa little silent, even for her, who only talked when she chose. Andat last Joy and John were alone. She felt a little shy of him. 

"I must go clear up, " she said presently, as he did not speak, moving toward the dining-room. 

"You must not, " he told her, with the affectionate note in his voiceshe loved to hear. "I want to stay here and appreciate my princess alittle, and I can't do it well when she's away--or I don't want to. Sit down, Joy. I scarcely ever see anything of you any more.... Dearchild, why on earth did you let Gail rampage all over the house thisway? You could have had a maid in from the village. "

"But she said she was going to--and I thought you knew!" cried Joy, her heart leaping up. 

"Oh, you mean she took possession?" he said. "I see. That is likeGail. Well--don't let her, next time, my dear. "

"I'd much, much rather not!" said Joy enthusiastically, "but shesaid she'd made it all right with your mother, and----"

"Oh, in that case, " said John, "all right. " Then he dismissed thesubject, looking into the fire. "I find out some new thing about youevery day, kiddie, " he said. "I'm afraid I must seem like a ratherquiet and unaccomplished person to you, --compared to other men. "

"You mean because I ran off with Clarence, " said Joy with remorsefuldirectness, and her usual child-likeness. "I _was_ cross becauseyou liked Gail. "

He laughed. "And _I_ was cross because you liked Clarence. Shall we both reform a bit, little girl?"

"Oh, yes!" replied Joy radiantly. "Only I haven't much to reformabout, " she added thoughtfully. "Except he's kind to me, and heunderstands things sometimes you don't.... "

John sighed a little. "I see. Yes, he's that sort. Well, try to makeme understand, dear, won't you? ... I want to. "

She slipped her hand impulsively in his as she did sometimes. 

"Then that's all right, " he said contentedly. 

But the most all right thing, to Joy's unregenerate heart, was nextmorning, when she went up to pay her usual morning visit to Mrs. Hewitt. 

"Joy, will you tell me, " demanded the lady, "what you meant bytelling Gail you wanted her to do the housekeeping?"

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE SERIOUS BUSINESS OF "IOLANTHE"

There was no use having it out with Gail. Joy was not one of thosenerve-shaking people who insist on having things out, anyhow. Shewas perfectly content with things as they were. 

The weather settled down to be legitimate October weather, a littleearly: crisply lovely outdoors, and of the temperature to be anexcuse for fires indoors at night. Tiddy transferred his allegiance, still a little shyly, to Joy. The change was good for him, becausethey were, after all, very much of an age. They got to be excellentfriends. Also Joy kept him at his studies in a fashion that was, forher, quite severe: he had asked her if she wouldn't, and she did. She went off for tramps with him when John was otherwise employed, which seemed to please John, and prevented her from having Clarencetoo much underfoot. 

Gail referred to Tiddy's desertion with her usual note of indolentamusement--it did not occur to Joy till years later that Gail mightoccasionally pretend a superiority to such things as annoy othergirls--and summoned another man from the city for week-ends. Tiddywas indigenous to the soil. This, as Clarence, with _his_ amiablesuperiority, said, was so much to the good, for when you come toamateur theatricals every man is a man. Clarence was working with anindustry nobody would ever have suspected in him, over "Iolanthe. "

It was easy enough to collect the principals. With a certain amountof nobility of character, Clarence assigned himself the part of_Lord Chancellor_, remarking that he could make a fool ofhimself rather better than most men he knew. Incidentally he playedopposite to Joy, who refused flatly to take the leading part of_Phyllis_, and was therefore cast for _Iolanthe_. They founda suitable and sufficiently stalwart _Fairy Queen_ in theneighborhood, and made Gail's weekend man _Private Willis_, becausetwo rehearsals a week were enough for that part, and he was the tallestman, nearly, that any one had ever seen. He was six feet three anda half, which is about two and a half inches more than is necessaryfor beauty and suitability, to quote Clarence again; but quite whatthey wanted just here. 

"But where on earth to get a chorus!" wailed Clarence, after arehearsal in the big Hewitt parlor. They were keeping it more orless a family affair. The Harringtons had returned, bringing the DeGuenthers with them in triumph. Mrs. De Guenther was a dear littleold lady who took a deep interest in the whole scheme, and was ofgreat use in the costuming. Mr. De Guenther, scholarly, soft-voiced, and courteously precise, was also allowed to be present atrehearsals; not because of the costuming, but because he rememberedperformances at the Savoy when he was a young man in London, andcould coach them in the business. 

"With a whole village full of people, I should think you could!"said Gail. "The trouble with you is, Clarry, you're lazy. " Sheleaned back herself in a long chair as she said it, looking thepersonification of indolence. 

"Of course I could!" he said scornfully. "My good girl, have youseen the worthy New Englanders in this village? There are some ofthe most beautiful characters, hereabouts, I was told when I wentseeking for chorus-ladies, that ever existed. But they are far frombeing worn on the outside. "

"Laura Ward is coming down over that week, to stay with me, " Gailoffered. 

"Yes, and Laura Ward has played _Celia_, and is going to haveto do it again, " stated Clarence. "We can't waste a good dancer likethat on the chorus. "

John, who was _Lord Mountararat_, one of _Phyllis'_ twosuitors from the House of Lords, was looking out of the windowabsently, humming under his breath one of his songs:

 _"It seems that she's a fairy From Andersen's lib_rary _And we took her for The proprietor Of a Ladies' Semi_nary!"

One of the unaccountable silences which sometimes fall made everyabsently-sung word quite audible. As he ended Clarence sprang at himin what would have been a wild embrace if he had not ducked in time. 

"Here, don't let your troubles drive you crazy, Rutherford, " Johnprotested, holding him off with a strong hand. 

"They haven't!" proclaimed Clarence. "But 'them beautiful words!'See here, you dwellers in this happy vale, isn't there a girls'school somewhere adjacent? Why don't we bribe the teachers by makingit a benefit for whatever they want--a stained glass window to theirfounder, or a new laboratory or something--and lift those girlsbodily, as a chorus?"

They had been seeking painfully for some worthy object to give theopera for, and so far hadn't been able to find a thing. So hisproject was greeted joyfully. 

"John, as usual, will have to go ask, " suggested Allan. "Johnny, oldboy, what _would_ we do without your reputation? You physish atthat school, and I hear they kiss your very shadow. "

"It's probably all they get a chance at, " Gail kindly helped John out. 

John, who was wildly adored, as a matter of fact, by most of thefifteen-year-olds of the school, said "Nonsense!" sternly. 

"Oh, do!" begged Tiddy. Tiddy was _Strephon_, the leadingjuvenile, "a fairy down to his waist, " and was passionately anxiousto have the whole thing go through. "If you will _I'll_ go andsee what I can yank out of my old prep school. There ought to beenough boys with changed voices and long legs----"

"Harold Gray, you are inspired!" said Gail, for once shaken out ofher indolence. _She_ had taken unto herself the part of _Phyllis_and was also anxious for the success of "Iolanthe. " "And I myself willgo with you. I'll go work my rabbit's foot on the masters. There'sone over there who has already known my fatal charm. "

"You mean the rabbit's foot, or----"

"I mean that one of the masters is in love with me. The classicalmaster. We'll work him, " stated Gail brutally. 

"If you can make him sell you sixteen boys into slavery your fatalcharm has been some use for once, " said Clarence, unruffled. 

Phyllis and John, who were the most serious-minded of the roomful, saw breakers ahead, but they said nothing. 

"My dear, I _don't_ think the way Miss Maddox talks is nice, "whispered Mrs. De Guenther, who had taken to Joy as all old ladiesdid. 

"Don't worry, dear, " murmured Phyllis from the other side of her. "Other people don't, either. But nobody takes her seriously. "

It was a light in Joy's mind on Gail. Nobody took her seriously. Shewas just a reckless, erratic creature who said and did as she pleased, and paid the penalty. Joy never felt so in awe of Gail again. 

"It is a very modern school, " said Phyllis to the company in hersweet, carrying voice. "The teachers are quite in favor of estheticdancing, I know, and I am sure if you had two or three of the teachersin it, too, to look after the girls, there would be no difficulty. I will go and ask, if you like. We need a _Leila_ and _Fleta_. "

"Oh, say, Mrs. Harrington, I thought you were going to be one ofthose, at least!" protested Tiddy, to whom it seemed a shame thatPhyllis' golden loveliness should be wasted. Allan was _LordTolloller_, the other suitor, but Phyllis preferred, she said, tobe generally useful. She was practically understudy to every one inthe place, having a quick memory and a good ear, and spent her time, besides, hearing parts. Her real reason for not wanting to play wasthat she was afraid the De Guenthers would be left too much tothemselves if she was tied up to rehearsals. Clarence worked everyone mercilessly. 

She shook her head good-naturedly. 

"I shall probably have to take the leading man's part on the night, "she told him. "Oh, I forgot it was you, Tiddy--I beg your pardon. Well, Clarence's, then. And until that awful moment, let me be happyin obscurity!"

Joy, who had _Iolanthe's_ long, hard part to learn, and wasdelighted with the idea, fixed her eyes on the opposite wall andtried to remember what she had to say first. She was staying on byspecial permission, for the opera. Mrs. Hewitt herself had writtenGrandmother. Grandfather, very much pleased at the idea that Joy hadinherited another form of his own talent, had said she could staythe full week of the performance. As they planned to give it on aTuesday night, this was almost a week to the good. 

"Then it's settled that Mrs. Harrington and Gail, with as many moreas are needed, go chorus-hunting tomorrow, " said Clarence withfinality. "Now we'll start that 'When darkly looms the day' duet. Tiddy, Joy! Look interested, please. Bang the piano, if you don'tmind, Mrs. Harrington. Now!"

Joy and Tiddy accordingly burst into song, assisted by Allan andJohn. Mrs. Hewitt, who had to be very stealthy about coming in, because she had been put out several times for talking in the middleof some exciting moment, slid into a chair beside the De Guenthers, and behaved nobly. She was quite able to be around now, and Joy wasbeginning to feel that she ought to accede to Phyllis' requests togo back and stay with them a while. The children demanded her daily. 

"I do hope the gate receipts will be more than the expenses, "Clarence said hopefully in a resting-space. "The last time I got upanything like this we cleared just two dollars. We'd formallydedicated it to a Home for the Aged, in the blessed hope that thedirectresses would sell tickets enough to fill the hall. But theydidn't. They took our two dollars away from us just the same. Ialways begrudged them that two-spot. "

"If you have the girls' school in it that can't happen, " Gailreminded him. "They're little demons at ticket-selling. "

So next day Phyllis took Joy with her, and also the De Guenthers asan evidence of deep respectability, and they drove over to theschool, and actually secured the co-operation of the girls and theirteachers. The thing was being so hurried through, as amateurtheatricals should be to go well, that the whole thing would be overin two and a half weeks more. As Phyllis was personally very muchliked by the principal, there was very little trouble made about it. Indeed, the teachers planned to take notes and borrow costumes, andgive the thing themselves as a commencement entertainment the nextJune, if it proved possible. 

The boys were rather harder to get, but here, too, they succeeded, finally. And "Iolanthe" went prosperously on. 

In a couple more days Phyllis, who really could get almost anythingshe wanted from almost anybody, if she took the trouble, coaxed Joyback from Mrs. Hewitt. 

"You'll have her most of the rest of your natural life, " shepleaded. "And I saw her first. I think I ought to have her now. "

So Mrs. Hewitt reluctantly gave her up, and she went back to theHarrington house. 

She saw scarcely less of John, because he continued to comeregularly to see them in the mornings on his way home, and generallygot in a little visit in the afternoons, not counting the fact thathe took her on his rounds with him three days out of five. And then, of course, there were the rehearsals. 

"My dear, " he remonstrated with her, as they were on their way homefrom one of these, "I don't want to seem to scold you, but youshouldn't let young Gray put his arm around you the way he does. "

"Put his arm around me?" demanded Joy, quite honestly surprised. "Why, what do you mean? Oh--the rehearsals! Why--why, John! You andAllan have to put your arms around Gail every little while, and sodoes everybody else. And I'm supposed to be _Strephon's_ mother. People have to, in theatricals. "

"Clarence seems to think so, " said John dryly, and Joy turned herhead to look at him more closely in the moonlight. 

"And now Clarence! Little Philip Harrington does, too, and I supposeyou'll be telling me to have him stop next!"

But at the scorn in her voice John only became firmer. 

"Gail Maddox is entirely different, " he explained. It seemed to Joythat if he had offered her that explanation once he had a hundredtimes. 

"Gail is not different, " said Joy firmly. "Anyway, Tiddy is just a baby. "

John could not help laughing. 

"He's not the only one who is just a baby, " he said. "You littlegoose, he's three or four years older than you ... And heaven knowshow much younger than I am. " The thought of that, for some strangereason, worked a change in his mind. "Never mind me, little girl. Isuppose I'm unreasonable. "

"Well, yes, I think you are, " said Joy honestly. Then she laughed. It was very comfortable to have John jealous, even if it _was_silly of him. "All right, John, hereafter I will wear a wire cagewhenever I have any scenes with Tiddy. "

"Better wear it when you have scenes with Clarence, " said John rathersharply. "And let me tell you, a man that will try to steal----"

"Oh, nonsense!" said Joy calmly again. "First you say that Clarenceis toying with me, then you say he's trying to steal me. Now itstands to reason he can't do both. "

She was so practical about it that John stopped in spite of himself. 

"I'm afraid I'm too much given to thinking people want to stealyou, " he said a little soberly. 

Joy wondered for the thousandth time about the nature of men.... Sometimes she almost thought she had made John care a good deal forher. And then again, when he rose up and defended Gail, she quitethought she hadn't. But as for Clarence, all that was very foolish. From the time she had seen him every one in the village who had comenear her, it seemed to her, had carefully made it plain thatClarence was a male flirt, a love pirate, a gay deceiver, a trifler, a person with no intentions--anything but a man who was in love withher. He had practically said so himself, as far as she couldremember. And she had been very pleased with the idea, and enjoyedhis behavior--happy in the belief that everything he said had astout string to it--very much. Even John admitted that he wasamusing, and certainly he was good-looking and clever. 

But she smiled up at John. 

"It is very nice of you to feel that way, " she said. "I appreciate it. "

"You annoying little person!" he replied, half-laughing. "Joy, if Ihadn't learned that you were one of the most honest, straightforwardgirls in the world, sometimes I would think you were a good deal ofa coquette. "

"We're here, " said Joy irrelevantly for an answer. She still wishedshe knew more about men. 

Phyllis' remark about being useful seemed to be in a fair way to befulfilled. Allan threatened to put out a sign, he said, on the frontgate, "No coaching done between twelve and three A. M. " Finally hedid discover an excellent scheme, which consisted of making thehouse and garden look deserted, and locking himself and Phyllis inthe library most of the day. 

"It's rather pleasant, " he informed her. "Since I developed thisplan I'm really getting more of your uninterrupted society than Ihave since this terrible "Iolanthe" devastated the village.... Justwhy did it happen, Phyllis--have you any idea?"

"Speak lower, " said Phyllis. "I'm perfectly certain I heard footsteps. "

"Probably a deputation from Miss Addams' school, to ask you whetherthe right or left foot comes first, " her husband answered her quiteaccurately. 

"But, Allan dear, " protested Phyllis, "you know perfectly well thatif I don't go out and stem the tide they will find Joy, and tear thechild away from the first moment she's had with John alone since Idon't know when. "

"This is the first moment I've had alone with you since I don't knowwhen, " he answered, unmoved, coming over and putting both armsaround her, to draw her resolutely away from the door. "And if youwill consider carefully, my darling, you will remember that Joy ismuch younger than either of us, and hence has many more years tospend with John than you have with me. Now cease to be a slave toduty, or whatever it is, and come sit on the arm of my chair. "

"You'll never grow up!" said Phyllis protestingly; but she ceased tobe a slave to duty immediately, and sat on the arm of his chair untilhe pulled her down on his lap, which he did almost on the spot. 

Meanwhile Joy, walking up and down in the garden paths andmemorizing her part, had been found by John, who was trying to lureher off for a ride. 

"Nobody can find us on a galloping car, " he said persuasively. 

But Joy was more steadfast than Phyllis. 

"I expect Tiddy over to rehearse with me, " she said. "He will behere in about five minutes. You know that 'Good morrow, good mother'thing that he has to do prancing in and playing on a pipe. And noneof us can make out what a pipe is. Tiddy says if there's no furtherlight on it by next rehearsal he's going to use a meerschaum. "

"You might let me rehearse with you, " grumbled John. "Every time Icome near I find you dancing hand-in-hand with Tiddy or Clarence orMrs. Beeson" (Mrs. Beeson was the gigantic Fairy Queen) "or sewingon some wild thing for some seminary child. "

"Some of those seminary children are only a year younger than I am, "she reminded him. "But if you would like to rehearse your part withme you'll have to go find Allan. All your scenes are with him. "

"Allan has a well-trained wife and a lock on his door, " said John, who didn't in the least need to rehearse. "I have neither. Motherhas made our house a happy hunting-ground, and at this moment Gailand Tiddy and Clarence are putting the Chorus of Peers through itspaces. They aren't properly hand-picked. One of 'em squeaks. "

"They had to pick him, because he was so grand and tall, " Joyexplained. "He isn't supposed to sing. I suppose he got carried away. "

"Suppose you get carried away, " coaxed John, returning to the charge. 

"Now, John, you know the thing is to be given in a week, " remonstratedJoy. "And I have heaps to learn, and any amount more to sew. "

"Nevertheless--" said John, and suddenly laughed and tried to pickher up. He was very strong, and she was light and little, but sheresisted valiantly. They were laughing and struggling like a coupleof children, when they heard footsteps, and shamefacedly composedthemselves to look very civilized. The choruses were all over thevillage at all times of the day and night after study hours, andJohn specially had to look after his decorum in their presence. Butit was only Philip. 

"Seems to me it would be pleasanter, " he remarked without preface, "if Angela and I had parts in this play. Angela thinks so, too. "

"Where is Angela?" asked Joy idly. 

"I put her up a tree, " said Philip. "She's playing she's a littlebirdie. You haven't got any candy that we could play was worms, haveyou, Johnny?" he finished insinuatingly. 

But John and Joy had heard a wail in the direction whence Philip hadcome, and neither of them stopped to reply. Angela alone and up atree was a picture that had appalling possibilities, and she wascertainly crying as if the worst of them had happened. 

The wails seemed to come from the little pleasance where thefountain was, and Joy, as she ran, had a vision of a tree whichPhilip did climb with a ladder, and which he was quite capable ofmaking Angela climb, too. The drop from his favorite limb was quitesix feet. 

Joy reached the pleasance first. It was Angela who was shrieking, but the worst had not quite happened. She had wriggled herself outof the safe crotch where Philip had put her, and it was Heaven'smercy that she had not fallen. But her frock was a stout bluegingham, fortunately, and a projecting branch-stump was thrustthrough it, holding her in a horizontal position along the bough. She was crying and wriggling, and in another minute or so she mighthave fallen to the ground. There was a slight chance that she wouldhave struck on the fountain. 

Joy was up the ladder and had the child in her arms in a moment. Sheheld her till John, reaching up from below, relieved her of theburden, and set Angela on the grass, where she continued to cry. 

"Such a lot of crying about just a little hole in your frock!"remarked Philip to Angela. "I should think you'd be ashamed!"

At which Angela stopped crying. 

"_Big_ hole!" she said defensively, with a gulped-down sob, andbegan smoothing it down, where she sat on the grass. 

"Angela, Angela! Oh, Angela, is my baby hurt?" cried Phyllis, flyingin from the garden path outside. She had heard the child cry, fromwhere she and Allan were in the living-room, and with a mother'sinstinct had fled out and down to where the child was. Allan washurrying behind her, but before he could catch her she had caughther foot on the root that stood out of the ground in a loop, andfallen headlong, striking her head on the edge of the marble basin. 

She lay, white and still, where she had fallen. Allan was at herside in a moment, begging her to speak to him. 

"Is she dead, John?" he demanded passionately of John, kneelingbeside her. "Good God, man, can't you speak--is she dead?"

"She's stunned, " John answered. "I think that's all. "

"Her heart is beating, " said her husband, with his hand on it. "I--Ithink it is. Oh, Phyllis, darling, won't you speak to me?"

Joy put her hand quietly on his shoulder. 

"Allan, " she said, "John can't do anything as long as you won't lethim get near Phyllis. He can help quicker than you can. "

Allan shivered a little, then raised Phyllis so that her head restedon his knee, and John could get at her. 

"Do something quickly, John, " he said. "I shall go crazy if she liesthat way much longer. It's the first time I ever asked her foranything that she didn't give it to me--" his throat caught. 

"She'll be all right in a minute, old fellow. Don't take it thatway, " John reassured him. "Joy, dear, run to the house and get somebrandy and spirits of ammonia, and a spoon. Hurry. "

Joy sped back to the house, and got the things from Lily-Anna, whounlocked and found with quick, capable hands, though she wasevidently trying not to cry as she did it. 

"Jus' a natural-born angel, " she said. "Here, hurry back, Miss Joy. Yas, that kind's too good to live. I might a' knowed it long ago. There's everything, child. Now go on!"

It had seemed forever to Joy, but John assured her that she had beenvery swift. They forced a little of the stimulant through Phyllis'teeth, and presently her color began to come back. 

"There, she's coming round, Allan, " said John. "You see there was noneed to be so worried. "

"It wasn't you, " said Allan briefly, then straightway forgoteverything else, as Phyllis' eyes opened. 

"I'm dizzy, " she said faintly. Then she saw Allan's face over hers, and farther away the others, grave and anxious, and she smiled. "Why, Allan, you poor boy, I've worried you to death. I'm--sorry--dear. "

Her breath came a little hard for a moment, for it had been a badfall; but she was nearly all right again in a few minutes more, andlaughing. 

"Allan, if you don't stop looking as if the world had come to anend, I shall faint again, whether I want to or not, " she said. "Youfoolish man, didn't you ever see anything like that before?"

"The world nearly did come to an end, " said Allan in a low voice. 

She made no answer to this in words, but Joy saw her catch Allan'shand and hold it hard for a moment before the men helped her to riseto her feet. She was perfectly able to walk, she declared, afterstanding a moment and recovering from the dizziness that came overher for a moment when she got up. She went back to the house withAllan's arm around her, and the children, whom nobody had as yettaken time to scold, following, awestruck and very meek, at a safedistance behind. 

"He _did_ act as if the world had come to an end, " mused Joyaloud. "I was frightened for a minute, though. "

"You didn't show it. You were very brave and clear-headed, " Johntold her comfortingly.... "I don't know that I'd have behaved verydifferently in his place. As he said, it wasn't I. "

"Oh, was that what he meant?" said Joy. "I didn't quite know. "

"Thank heaven it wasn't!" said John. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE SLIGHTLY SURPRISING CLARENCE

Phyllis was perfectly all right the next day. She stayed in thehammock because Allan made her, and she confessed to a shadow of aheadache, but altogether, she said, her accident was worth much lessfuss than was made over it. The rehearsals swept relentlessly on, past all stemming. Clarence was getting thinner under the strain, which was very becoming, and pleased him exceedingly. 

Joy, too, was a little affected by the current of things. In allClarence's off moments he was either with her or trying to be, andshe could not at all make him out. If he had been anybody else shewould have thought he was very much in earnest about trying to makeher marry him. But, then, John, when she came to think of it, couldhave been described the same way. A bit of Gail's careless wisdom, dropped one day at rehearsal, gave her a clue to things. Gail hadbeen stating to one of the teachers, who played _Fleta_, one ofthe leaders of the chorus, that she'd had four proposals thatsummer. Gail's attitude of cynical frankness about her desire tocollect scalps was something to make the average person gasp. Shereally meant it. She was, as Joy had discovered by this time, quitewithout malice--also quite without considerateness. 

"It isn't difficult, " said Gail to the stiffening teacher. "Competition is the soul of trade. If I can give the poor souls anidea that other men want me--quite flaunt them, you know--they allcome bounding up to want me, too. It's very cheering, don't youthink, to have a faithful hound or so about?"

Fortunately the teacher was called away by the exigencies of herpart, just at that moment. Joy, who was not easily shocked by Gail, having spent nearly four weeks in her immediate vicinity now, lingered. She had an inquiring mind. 

"Do you think that really is true, Gail, or were you just trying toshock Miss Archinard?" she asked. 

Gail laughed, her peculiar short, low laugh, that, like everythingshe said and did, had something a little mocking in it. It wascuriously at variance with her boyishness. You could not say she wasmasculine, but there was a something stripped away from her whichmost people class as feminineness. Joy wondered if it was softnessshe missed--pity, perhaps, or tenderness. She was, at least, brilliantto the last degree when she talked, though it was a perfectly uselessbrilliance. Gail's life had no other end than amusing herself withwhatever persons or things came her way. If they could be laughedat or employed in her service that was all she wanted. 

"Shocking Miss Archinard is a pathetic sort of performance, " saidGail. "Any child can do it. You doubtless do yourself. Joy, sheprobably thinks your coloring too vivid for ladylikeness. Why, I'mperfectly willing to shock her--it's more interesting than talkingto her as an equal--but I merely told the truth. You never in theworld would have robbed me of the faithful Tiddy who now crawls atyour feet, if he hadn't seen John and Clarence running franticallyin your direction. "

That principle, it dawned on Joy, could be extended. Probably Johnand Clarence kept each other interested. There was a great deal tolearn about men, but on the other hand, there seemed to be a fewbroad elementary rules to follow--if you were the kind of person whocould be cold-blooded enough to follow them. 

"But don't you ever feel badly when you think how they get hurt?"she asked Gail a little timidly. 

"Everybody gets hurt once or twice that way, " said Gail placidly. "Imight as well have the satisfaction of doing it as some other girl. "She looked reflectively across at her week-end man, who was just nowwrestling with his solo, and obviously wanted to get back to her. "Besides--if you don't hurt _you_ get hurt.... Oh, I was agood, sweet, unselfish, considerate young thing once. I wasted muchvaluable time trying to be as nice as I could be.... Then _I_got hurt, and I decided that there wasn't anything in thisconsideration game. People seem to like me just as well now I'mperfectly selfish as they did when I wasn't. "

She laughed a little again, and lifted an eyebrow imperceptiblytoward Private Willis, who promptly lost a bar of his solo. 

It was a difficult statement to correct without being rude. Joy letit go. For the first time in her acquaintance with Gail she had thekey. She felt sorry for Gail for a moment--for that far-off childishGail who had been so badly hurt that she hadn't ever dared letherself feel again. She did not know such a great deal about livingherself, but she felt that Gail was wrong--that it was better to letthings come to you and hurt you, if they would, and go on living, being a complete human being, no matter what happened to you. 

Then Gail spoke again, and Joy discovered that it was difficult togo on being sorry for her--for the present her, that is. 

"When you go back to your well-known grandparents, " she stated witha frankness which had ceased to mislead Joy, "I shall make a finaleffort to ensnare John. He doesn't approve of me, but that will makelife still more exciting. You don't mind, my child, do you?"

Joy laughed. 

"You may have him--if you can get him!" she answered very gallantlyconsidering the circumstances. 

What Gail said showed her something with a certainty which had beenlacking before. John had never belonged to Gail. If Joy herselfhadn't been so entirely in love with John she might have been madesurer of him. But it is very hard to be positive of getting anythingyou want too intensely. 

As she rested silent a moment John himself came up beside her. 

"Tired, kiddie?" he said with the affectionate note in his voicethat he always had when he used the little name he had for her. "Youshould have farmed out that sewing. "

"Do you mean to say you took a bundle of those gauze frocks to do, Joy?" demanded Gail. 

Joy nodded. Gail made her feel, as usual, as if she had been sillyand imposed upon. The seminary girls were crowding their time as itwas to get in the rehearsals, and the Principal had stated withfinality that it would be impossible to give them time extra to workon their costumes. The mothers of some of them had been written hometo and had responded, but some others of the girls had no one whocould or would do the sewing, so Joy had volunteered, together withPhyllis, to run up the five or six of them that had to be done. She_was_ a little tired. 

"I shall come over tomorrow morning and hide them, " John threatened. But he smiled approvingly at her as he said it, and she knew that heliked her having done it. She knew well enough the long hours hespent with his charity patients, and all the things he did for thepeople in the village--things he never spoke of. 

She thought with a pang that was not a selfish one of John's lot, ifhe did finally marry Gail. She did not think he could be happy witha girl who would never try to make him so. His mother's affectionfor him was irresponsible enough, but it was very real and selfless. You couldn't imagine Gail married to John. 

"It'll be too late to hide them, " she answered him brightly, comingout of her muse with an effort. "They're all done. There wasn't muchwork on them, comparatively. "

 _"Good morrow, good mother, Good mother, good morrow! By some means or other, Pray banish your sorrow!"_

sang Tiddy, frisking gently up to her. "It's our turn next, Joy. Clarence says he thinks we ought to emigrate in a body to the OpryHouse, and go through this thing _right_. "

John moaned. 

"Clarence is always having unnecessary thoughts of that sort. Tohear him talk, you would think we had spent the last two weeks goingthrough it wrong. "

"So we have, " said Clarence. "Come now--all out. We are going overto rehearse on the august boards of the opera house, and then we aregoing home for brief bites, and then we are going back for a dressrehearsal. Tomorrow night is the night, and may the Lord have mercyon your souls!"

At this reminder Clarence's weary company bestirred itself. Theprincipals had been rehearsing, as usual, at the Hewitt house. Theywere to meet the chorus, it appeared, at the village opera house, and go through the whole thing there with the orchestra of tomorrownight; a kind-hearted orchestra which was willing to rehearse twice. 

"Why any of us ever began this thing, I _don't_ see, " growledJohn, as he deftly captured Joy, having made a neat flank movementwhich prevented Clarence from getting her. "Do you know, Joy"--hewas putting her cloak on for her in the hall by this time--"I'veseen about half as much of you as I would if I hadn't been luredinto this. The rest of this week, after tomorrow night, you aregoing to have to spend exclusively in spoiling me. I'm twice asdeserving as a high-school girl, and three times as deserving asClarence and Tiddy. And I've more right to you, besides. "

"If you want rights, sometimes you have to take them, " said Joydemurely. 

He laughed. 

"Is that a suggestion? If so, it's an excellent one. Consideryourself thoroughly taken. You are not to be discovered in cornerswith Clarence, nor showing Tiddy how his steps should go. "

But Joy only laughed. 

There was little time for discussion after that. They rehearsedsteadily, with the frenzied feeling of unpreparedness that onlyamateurs can fully know, till it was more than time for the "briefbite" of Clarence's description. Then the choruses were shepherdedover to the Hewitt house and the Maddox house respectively, and fed, Clarence and Tiddy standing over them to see that no time was wasted. 

Then they went back, and went through the whole opera. The audienceconsisted of a few carefully chosen relatives who had insisted onbeing there, including the Harrington children. Phyllis was lettingthem see the dress rehearsal instead of the real performance, because the latter was to end with a dance, and there would havebeen some difficulty in tearing Philip away while things were stillgoing on. The dress rehearsal promised to be over by nine-thirty, for they had started at six, and were sweeping through without abreak, happily unconscious that Clarence intended them to do it allover again with all the mistakes severely corrected, as soon as theyhad ended the final chorus. 

"Gail, that isn't the way to do it, " Clarence called to her sharply, as she danced in with the minimum of effort, in the "Good morrow, good mother" song that she had with Joy and Tiddy, respectively_Iolanthe_ and _Strephon_. "Pick up your feet. You'll be downover that garland in the corner if you don't look out. "

"I'll pick them up tomorrow night, " said Gail, pausing to answerhim. "No use putting all this work on rehearsal. "

She was undoubtedly right. And undoubtedly the garland had nobusiness to swing so loose, as Clarence himself afterwards admitted. 

But the fact remained. As Gail stepped reluctantly back, andrecommenced her song, her high-heeled slipper caught in the swinginggarland, and she came down flat, with the ankle badly turned under her. 

The opera stopped short while the others crowded around her andtried to find out how badly she was hurt. She sat up straight andtried to smile-Gail disliked having or showing feelings of anysort--but she was white with the pain, and when she tried to standon the ankle it hurt her, as she admitted. 

They carried her off the stage in a chair, and John, who was donninghis robes in the other dressing-room, was hurried over to see howbadly she was hurt. 

"Don't stop for me, Clarence, " Gail ordered. "On with the dance, letJoy be unrefined. That is, if she can. I know you're hungering tolash your wretched infant-school forward. "

Clarence remarked that she was plucky, patted her shoulder, and wentthankfully off to put his chorus through an evolution or so while hecould. 

John, meanwhile, with Phyllis' help, took off the pretty pink satinslipper, with its rosette, and the pink silk stocking, and foundthat Gail's ankle was badly sprained. They did it up properly, andPhyllis took Gail home. 

"Now what shall we do?" demanded Clarence at the end of the act, pushing the Lord Chancellor's wig to one side, and staring around him. 

"What about Gail's guest, the one that's coming down tomorrow?"offered Tiddy. 

"We have her cast, anyway, " Clarence answered dolefully. 

"She's played Celia, the one that's a sort of lieutenant-fairy, before, and I remember the time I had getting her to memorize her words--nota long part at all. She could no more play Phyllis than I can. "

"Were you talking about the part, or about me?"' asked PhyllisHarrington, coming in again. 

"How is Gail?" asked everybody. 

"Ask John, " said Phyllis. "Her ankle seems to be hurting her badly, poor girl. I hope it will be all right tomorrow night. I made her goto bed, and her mother is sworn to make her stay there. I'll gothrough her part for her now, Clarence, if it will be any help. "

Clarence stared at her. 

"Can you?" he asked. 

"Well, I know the words, " said Phyllis. "And I don't think she willbe able to rehearse again. It will be as much as she can do to getup tomorrow night and go through it. "

John shook his head. "I'm afraid she won't be able to do even that, "he said. 

"Then you'll have to take the part, Phyllis!" said Clarence with asudden decision. "Never mind dressing now. Take your hat off and seewhat you can do. "

"Understand, I'm only holding it, " said Phyllis, but she would havebeen more than human if she had not flushed a little with pleasureat the idea. 

They began rehearsals again, and this time the opera went throughwith scarcely a hitch. The little chorus girls had come to adorePhyllis by this time, the boys were fond of her--there was scarcelyone of the cast whom she had not helped over or through or undersome one of the little hitches incident to private theatricals--andthe whole cast was on its tiptoes to see her through. There was anew feeling in the thing, that Clarence noticed directly. 

"By Jove, we ought to have insisted on her doing it from the first, "he told Tiddy, his lieutenant, under his breath. "I could havegotten twice as much work out of 'em. '

"Who'd have broken the news to Cousin?" he wanted to know. 

Clarence eyed him with the detached interest that was his, andmeditated with a certain amusement on the changeableness of collegeboys. Two weeks before Tiddy would have lowered his voice inreverence at Gail's name. Then he glanced across at Joy, sittingclose by Phyllis in her gauzes, with her wonderful bronze-gold hairhanging around her like a mantle, and conceded within himself thatit was not so surprising after all. 

Sure enough, Gail was unable to bear much weight on her foot by thenext day. She insisted on being dressed and driven down to thehurried last rehearsal on the afternoon of the performance. But shecould not walk without support. 

"You'll have to take it, Phyllis, " she conceded. "I shall look asbeautiful as I can, and sit in the audience and hate you. "

"You ought to, " said Phyllis mournfully. "I know if it were I inyour place, I couldn't bear to come down and look at you. "

"I have to, anyway, on account of Laura, " said Gail. Miss Ward hadcome, and was at that moment getting out of her wraps preparatory tomeeting the cast and rehearsing. 

As Phyllis left her to go into the dressing-room and introduce thestranger, whom she had met, to the others, she heard Joy cry out insurprise. 

"Why, I know you--at least I've seen you, only you don't rememberme, " Joy was saying impulsively. 

Laura Ward, in the act of slipping off her coat, stopped in surprise. 

"Why, I have seen _you_" she said. "Where was it?"

"I was posing for the Morrows, " explained Joy. "You ran in and gotsome fixative. They had me for their mural decorations----"

_"Joy!"_ called somebody in the tone of imperative need whichis almost as summoning as a telephone bell, and Joy dashed off, holding up her green water-weeds with one hand and her draperieswith the other. The meeting with Laura Ward seemed a pleasant sortof crowning to the day. She was the very same vivid, gipsy-lookinggirl who had dashed into the Morrow studio for a moment, and who hadseemed to stand, to Joy then, for all the kinds of girl she hadwanted to be and couldn't. And now she seemed just a pleasant personlike oneself. Joy had caught up to her. It was like an omen. 

"What is it?" she called dutifully as she ran. 

She found no opportunity to see more of Miss Ward. She wanted to, for she was sure she was going to like her. She had always wanted to. 

"It's a good audience, " breathed Clarence over her shoulder, as theylooked through peep-holes in the curtain. "All the sisters andcousins and aunts have turned up. I say, Joy, the Fairy Queen wasgood for ten tickets at least. There's a row of her dear ones rightacross from aisle to aisle. "

The moment of the play had come all too swiftly, and in tennerve-shattering minutes the curtain would go up. Ten minutes afterthat Joy would be rising out of a trap-door, in the character of afairy who had spent the last twenty years at the bottom of a stream;incidentally she would be acting for the first time in her life. There was enough to be excited over; and yet it was none of thesethings that excited her--it was the curious note in ClarenceRutherford's voice as he spoke his trivial words in her ear. 

She moved away from him automatically. She was a little tired, tonight, of his persistent flirtation. It was all very well for awhile, but surely--surely, she thought, it was time he'd had enoughof it; and she went back off the stage, looking, though she scarcelyacknowledged it to herself, for John. She felt as if she wanted tosee as much of him as she could. 

He ought to have been in his dressing-room, but he was not. He waslooking for her, she almost thought, for he came quickly toward herwith his face lighted. 

"I'm so glad I found you before the thing commenced, kiddie, " hesaid. "I just wanted to tell you that you're not to be frightened. Do you hear? I forbid you to be frightened. " He smiled down at herprotectingly. "You say you always do as I tell you--so you must thistime. I know you're going to make a howling success of the opera.... My dear, _don't_ look so worried about it all!"

They were in a little dim passage where no one was likely to come, and he drew her close to him, and kept his arm around her. 

"Do I look worried?" she answered simply. "I wasn't thinking about'Iolanthe' so much. I suppose I'm tired with rehearsals, for itseems to me as if something I didn't like was going to happen.... John, I never asked you before, but I feel so little and lonesometonight, and suddenly far away from everybody. Please say that youhaven't minded all the naughty things I've done--that you like me, and forgive me, and----"

"Like you and forgive you, foolish child! ... I don't know that Ilike you.... " He looked down at her, laughingly. "And I have nothingto forgive you for. Why, Joy, it goes a great deal further thanthat. I thought you knew how much I cared for you. "

She clung to him, there in her green and white draperies, with hergold hair falling over them. She could scarcely believe the thinghis words and voice said, but it was there to believe. She gave alittle shiver and clung closer to him. 

"You--care?"

"Of course I care!"

He released her enough to lift up her flushed little face, and benddown and kiss it. "You knew that a long time ago. Kiddie----"

It was just then that the call-bell rang. 

She hurried to her place, her heart beating and her cheeks burningunder the rouge. She was nearly sure that she had won--that thewishing ring had given her what she had asked of it. John had notsaid, "You and I are lovers, and we are going to be married" in somany words--but his voice--and his touch--and his laughing certainty----

She was very happy, so happy that she went through the opera in thestate of some one drugged to ecstasy. She sang and danced andlaughed, and helped Phyllis whenever she could in her difficult taskof assuming a leading part at one day's notice, and felt as if theplay had carried her into a veritable fairyland. Tiddy forgot halfof his lines, the first time he spoke with her, watching herbrilliant eyes and vividness, and she laughed and pulled himthrough. She was like a flame throughout the performance. Phyllisdid wonders, considering the short time she had had in which toprepare, and the performance generally was so good that even thepeople who were in it were surprised. 

When it was safely over, and the dance was beginning--the dance wastaking place at the Hewitt house--Joy flung herself down for amoment behind the curtains of the little alcove she knew so well bynow, and caught her breath. She was hiding a little. She still had acurious reluctance to see Clarence again, and she felt as if she didnot want to see John, either, for a little while. Because the nexttime she saw him she would probably know whether she was right orwrong. She was nearly certain she was right, but there was a littleshivering possibility that she might not be. There was always Gail!... 

"Sorcerette, dear!" said Clarence's voice wooingly in the dim doorway. 

He had changed back to evening clothes, and looked very handsome, ifa little theatrical, for the black was not quite yet off his browsand lashes. He, too, looked excited. 

"Come out and dance, Joy of my life, " he said. 

"I'm--I'm waiting for John, " she stammered. She still did not wantto go with him. 

"John's otherwise engaged, " Clarence informed her coolly. "Did youthink Gail intended to go without one kind word the whole evening?Not so! Come, or I'll think you mean to be highly impolite. "

The same reluctance still held Joy's feet, and she did not like theinsinuation, but there really seemed no way out. 

"Cheer up, Sorcerette, dear, " he said in her ear, as he swept heraway. "'Get happy, chile, ain't you done got me?'"

She did not talk. She did not feel like it. She merely dancedlightly on with Clarence, letting him say what he pleased. 

"Do you remember the first time we danced together, Joy, the firsttime you ever danced with any one? I have always been so glad I wasthe first man you ever danced with. "

"Why?" she asked absently. She wanted to get away, to get back toJohn Hewitt. 

His arms tightened. 

"Why? You know perfectly well why. You have got me--do you know it?From the very first minute I ever saw you. "

She smiled up at him, and shook her head. 

"You make love beautifully, " she heard herself saying coolly. "Butyou really shouldn't make it to your host's fianc�e in his house. Itisn't done. "

"Don't you suppose I know that?" answered Clarence tempestuously. "Joy Havenith, do you mean to say that you think I'm doing theordinary love-making one does in any conservatory?"

She smiled a little. He was more like the Clarence she usually knew, and she did not take it at all seriously. 

"Why, you do it better than most, " she said. "Go on. I like it. "

If there was one thing she knew well, it was Clarence's love-making. Indeed, she had come to the point where Clarence's remarks scarcelyconstituted love-making at all in her eyes. They were merely hiskind of manners, and she was a little tired of them. 

"Good heavens! How on earth am I going to convince you?" she heardhim say, with a little surprise. This was not the kind of thing hesaid ordinarily. "Joy, I fell in love with you, the real kind oflove, the first night I saw you. You've known it all along. I wishyou'd stop pretending not to--I'm getting tired of it. I want tomarry you--I'd marry you tonight if you said the word. I'll comeover and get you tomorrow and marry you if you'll let me. I don'tsuppose you will. But I do expect to keep on at you till you do.... Good heaven, child, haven't you seen I was in earnest?" he broke offat the expression of her wide-open eyes. 

Joy believed in love at first sight, as she had every personalreason to, but in spite of Clarence's intensity she was not quiteconvinced. She looked up at him. He was white, and his mouth wastense. And he was holding her like a vise. He was in earnest. 

"Maybe--maybe you think you do mean it now. " she said breathlessly. "If you do--I'm sorry for you. It isn't nice to be in love unlessthe other person is, too. "

"What do you know about it?" he burst out angrily. "You aren't inlove with that virtuous citizen of yours, whether or not he is withyou. Let him go back to Gail. She's been considering one of her tamecats for a year, and she'd about decided to marry him when you camealong and broke it up. You'd sweep any man off his feet. You and Ibelong together, Joy darling. I'm going to marry you, if you wereengaged to the whole College of Surgeons. "

"The dance is over, " said Joy a little faintly. 

"Then come over here where it's quiet. I haven't finished. "

"Oh, please no--" cried Joy, freeing herself from his hold eagerly. This was getting unexpectedly like earnest, and it had been a shock. She did not want to hear any more about how Clarence felt. 

She hurried across the floor without waiting for him, to where Allanand Phyllis were still standing together. They had stolen a dancewith each other--they danced together altogether too much formarried people, anyway, Mrs. Hewitt said. 

The atmosphere of happiness and serenity that was about Phyllis wassomething Joy could always rest in thankfully. Her own moodsalternated so that Phyllis' calmness was an especial comfort. 

"I--I'm so tired, " she said wistfully. "Couldn't we go soon?"

"I should think we could, " said Phyllis willingly, while Allanseconded the motion with joy. 

"There's no place like home, " he said. "I've been considering thefact that it was getting on for four, and that I have an appointmentat ten tomorrow, for a half-hour. Go get your wraps, Phyllis, mydarling, and I'll get John, as my share of the bargain. We'll beawaiting you happily in a dark corner of the porch. "

Joy wanted to flee from Clarence. And she looked forward happily tobeing with John on the back seat of the motor, and talking over theevening with him. She would learn, perhaps, just what he had meantwhen he had seen her last. Her heart beat hard with the excitementof the thought. She was nearly sure--dear wishing ring!

She slipped off, after speaking to Mrs. Hewitt, and saw Allan andJohn moving off together to the men's cloak-room. 

She sang softly to herself as she put on her cloak. She would bewith John again in a moment. He had smiled at her as he passed outof sight. What were Clarences and such small things? This was awonderful world. 

She and Phyllis came down the stairs together as unobtrusively asthey could, so as not to betray to the rest that they were going. She had forgotten about Gail. 

But Gail was the first thing she saw--half-lying on a couch in adark corner of the hall, holding court with Laura Ward. There weretwo or three men around them, and they were laughing and talkingtogether. Joy waved her hand as they passed, and Gail looked up fromher laughter. 

"Farewell, my dears, until tomorrow! Good-by, Joy. It was a well-doneopera, even if I was sitting in the audience being fiendishly jealous.... Oh, I forgot to tell you that I have learned your dark secret, my child!I think you're the most ingenious little wretch that ever lived. Tilltomorrow! I'm going to give a tea--be prepared!"

She looked at Laura Ward and laughed again. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE GIFT OF THE RING

Joy had no idea in the world how she got into the car. John'sguiding hand on her arm probably was all that saved her fromstumbling into the hedge, or trying to walk up a tree, she thoughtafterwards. She was on the back seat, finally, with John by her. Shelaid her head back with a little tired half-moan, and felt John'sstrong, comforting arm drawing her over so that she could restagainst his shoulder. 

"You poor little girl, you're all worn out, " she heard him saytenderly. "But I was proud of you, little Joy. I didn't know what awonderful person I had found.... Little fairy princess!"

Ten minutes earlier the note of affection and pride in his voicewould have made Joy so deliriously happy that she wouldn't haveknown what to do. But ... Gail knew ... Gail knew all about itall! ... How could men! And she had said she was going to give a tea. That probably meant that she was going to tell everybody everything, and laugh about it. 

She _was_ tired, and the shock of Gail's words had taken allthe capacity for action out of her. She knew that if she'd had anyproper feelings she would have moved coldly away from John, andaccused him of betraying her to Gail, and demanded why he had doneit. Evidently she had no proper feelings. You can't have, if youlove people hard. She merely lay against John's strong, broadshoulder that felt so alive and comforting, and thought that thiswas the last time she would ever lean against it, or feel, as shealways did when he touched her, as if there was some one who wouldlook after her, and stand between her and every one else. She couldnot talk. 

When they reached the Harrington house Allan took the car around tothe garage at the back, himself, and Phyllis said she would stay inthe car with him while he locked the garage. The men began to teaseher for the idea she had offered, but Joy, hearing Phyllislaughingly defend herself, and explain what she really meant, knewthat it was Phyllis' way of giving John a chance to say good-nightto her alone. 

"Dear Phyllis!" she thought, with a gush of gratitude in her heartthat there was one person in the world so unfailingly thoughtful andhonest and dependable. The world did not quite go down in ruinswhile Phyllis stood her friend. 

"Dear Phyllis!" she heard John's gay voice say, as if in echo of herown thoughts. "She knew I'd want a chance to see you alone aminute.... What an awful amount of people too many there are in theworld, aren't there, kiddie? I'm beginning to think with yearning ofCrusoe's isle, and a barbed-wire fence around that. "

He drew her into the shadow of the vines on the porch, and took herin his arms. ... And he had told Gail ... Oh, how _could_ men?

For a moment she stood, passive. Then the nearness of him, and thecruel last-timeness of it all, swept over her again, and she threwher arms around his neck convulsively, and kissed him over and overagain. She wanted it to remember. 

"Good-by, my dearest!" she whispered. 

"Not good-by, dear--good-night!" he answered her. "It's a long timetill tomorrow, but thank goodness, it's coming. And all thetomorrows after that. "

"No--" she started to say, when she heard footsteps, and Johnreleased her. 

"It's a very dark night, " said Allan sadly. "I couldn't see my bestfriend, even if he were on my own porch. Coming in, John?"

"Allan, you have the tact of Talleyrand, or whoever it was they usedto kick, " responded John amiably. "No, I can't come in. It's atleast four o'clock, and I have to be up at seven tomorrow. I'll dropin some time in the morning--you won't have a chance to miss me. "

He said good-night to them all, and went down from the porch. Theycould hear him whistling "With Strephon for Your Foe" joyously downthe path, and, more dimly, down the road that led to his house. 

"There goes, I should say, a fairly happy man, " remarked Allan tothe world at large. "Now, Joy, if any one asked you, what would yousay made him so contented with life?"

Joy liked Allan's brotherly teasing as a rule, but tonight it seemedas if she could not answer him, or anybody. She did, not feel as ifshe could talk any more, and looked appealingly at Phyllis. 

"She's dead to the world, Allan, " Phyllis interposed. "And if westay down here talking those imps of ours are going to wake up anddemand tribute. "

"Great Scott, they are!" said Allan, "and the buns and stuff youheld Mrs. Hewitt up for are in the bottom of the car, locked up inthe garage--where _you_ wanted to be. "

"Which is providential, " said the children's mother thankfully. "It's an alibi. They can't get any till tomorrow, no matter how muchwe want to give them any. "

So they tiptoed up the stairs. Joy turned off into her own room, butshe heard enough to know that no soft-footedness had availed. Sheheard Philip's clear, deliberate little voice demanding, "How muchparty did you bring me home, Mother?" and the hopeful patter ofAngela's feet. 

She shut her door tight before she knew how it turned out. She had agood deal to do, because she was going to have to take a train thatgot her away from Wallraven before John found time from his roundsto come back next morning. Gail might have told Mrs. Hewitt--anynumber of people--by this time. She did not want to see any of themagain. And she loved them all very much. 

She took off her frock with slow, careful fingers, and put on akimono to pack in. Her trunk was against the wall. As she workedsteadily over the tissue-paper and hangers and things to be folded, she thought she was beyond feeling anything at all, till she feltsomething wet on her face, and found that she was crying silently, without having known it in the least. 

The green and silver frock--the white top-coat--that had burrs onit, where she had gotten out by the roadside to pick some goldenrod, and John had not gotten them all quite off--the little blue dresswith the fichu that John had said made her look as if she belongedin a house instead of a story-book--the gray silk she had loved so, and worn so hard it was middle-age-looking already--the brown wooljersey suit she must travel in----

She laid this last across a chair, and tried to go on packing. Thatwas the frock she had worn when John came to her in the woods, andwas so kind, and so good, and told her he would let her have herhappy month.... Well, she'd had it. And it was worth it--it wasworth anything!

But she put her head down on the side of the trunk and sobbed andsobbed. 

Presently she went on with her packing, and finished it by a littleafter four-thirty. The suitcase had to be filled. When it was doneshe took a bath and dressed, and lay down on the bed as she was. There was a train at nine-ten, that got her back home late in theafternoon, and she was taking no chances. 

She slept a little, always with the nine-ten train on her mind, andfinally rose and locked her trunk at half-past seven. She put thekey and her ticket and what money she had in her hand-bag, fastenedon her cap, took her suitcase, and stole downstairs. Nobody wasastir yet but Lily-Anna, and Viola, who was giving the early-wakingAngela her breakfast in an informal way in the corner of thekitchen. 

"Could I have a cup of coffee in a little while now, Lily-Anna?" sheasked the cook, who was making beaten biscuit in an echoing fashionthat would have penetrated any but the thick hundred-year-old wallsof the kitchen. 

"Why, Miss Joy--you goin' off on a ride with Dr. Johnny this early?"inquired Lily-Anna, thinking the natural thing. "Course you can. I'll make it right now. An' I'll tell Mis' Harrington. "

Joy had forgotten Phyllis in her wild desire for flight. But sheremembered now. She would have to call Phyllis and tell her. Indeed, she would rather tell her herself than have Gail know. She couldn'tgo off this way, as if she was taking the silver with her. 

She retraced her steps up the stairs, opened the door of Phyllis'room softly. Phyllis' bed was near the door, and she sat up at theslight noise. Joy beckoned to her, and she slipped out of bed, flinging around her a blue kimono that lay across the footboard andsetting her feet noiselessly in slippers as she came out with theswift, gliding step that was characteristic of her. She gatheredback the loose masses of her amber-colored hair and flung them overher shoulder, shut the door softly in order not to disturb Allan, and followed Joy down the hall. 

"What is it, dear?" she asked. "Telephone at this unchristian hour?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, " Joy answered, "but I had to. Where canwe go where I can talk to you for half an hour--or maybe ten minutes?"

There was a glowing fire in the living-room, and, of old custom, along couch stood before it. Phyllis led the way downstairs to this, and established Joy on it, drawing a chair up to it herself. 

"Now tell me all about it, " she said comfortingly. "And lie down, child--you look dead. "

But Joy was too nervous to lie down. 

"I have to go away on the nine-ten, " she said.... "No, please, Phyllis, wait till I tell you, and you'll see I do. You would, too. "

Phyllis always took the least nerve-wearing way--you could count onher for that. She listened encouragingly. 

"Gail said last night she--she knew my dark secret. " Joy begannervously in the middle. "And you know Gail does tell anything aboutanybody she wants to, especially if she thinks it makes a funnystory, --sometimes I think perhaps she likes making peopleridiculous.... She doesn't care about feelings.... "

"Why, you poor child, have you a dark secret?" asked Phyllis, smiling. "Let me hear the worst. I promise to love you still. "

"Oh _please_ do!" implored Joy. She dropped her head on thecouch cushions and talked with her face hidden on one arm. "Phyllis, I--I never was engaged to John!"

The bombshell did not at all have the effect she had expected. 

"I'm sorry to contradict you, but you certainly are, " said Phyllisplacidly. 

"You don't understand, " went on Joy, coming out from her shelter. "Listen. "

So she told Phyllis, with both her quivering little hands locked inone of Phyllis' strong, firm ones, the whole story--the story of theshut up, youthless life among the people who came to give hergrandfather homage, and regarded her as a plaything or astage-property, and of how she had seen the two young lovers one wetday, and been stirred into a wild rebellion for a youth of her own. 

"I understand, " said Phyllis here. "You were 'half-sick of shadows. 'I went through that myself. There comes a time when you'd do_anything_. "

"You understand?" asked Joy with wide eyes, "you with a husband thatadores the ground you walk on?"

"I do understand, " affirmed Phyllis, with her mind flying back for amoment to a gray February day in a Philadelphia library--a day thatwas eight years old now. "I think I can understand anything you aregoing to tell me. "

But Joy went on to the day when she had hidden on the stairs to getaway from the people, and John had come in, with the light glintingon his hair, and catching in the ring on his finger. 

"I suppose I fell in love with him then, though I didn't know whatit was, " Joy confessed. "And when I met you and Philip and Allan Iloved you all so, too, and it seemed so queer you liked me--just me, you know, not somebody's granddaughter that he used for trimmings!"

"Who wouldn't?" said Phyllis matter-of-factly. "So far as I can see, most people are crazy over you. "

"And Grandfather wouldn't let me go unless I'd been engaged--or hesaid that was the only reason--he thought I couldn't be, of course. And--and it flew out. And I used John's name when he cornered me, because I remembered him, and how kind he'd been. And on top ofthat----"

"And on top of that John turned up! Good gracious!" said Phyllis. She could not help a little laugh but her face sobered swiftly. "_Think_ of that man's cleverness and self-control! Why--why, Joy, no man would do all that unless he cared for you a little, anyhow. "

"John would, " said Joy with conviction. "You know how he is abouthonor and courtesy and doing things for people. "

Phyllis nodded. That was an incontrovertible fact. 

"And he's told Gail, " Joy went on. "That's the only secret I everhad in my life, so it _must_ be that. So I'm going to run away. I simply can't stay and... "

"Told Gail! Ridiculous!" cried Phyllis. "Unless ... Unless----"

"Unless there was some understanding between them before and Johnwas simply overchivalrous when he helped me, " Joy finished steadily. "Yes, that's the only answer.... I'm going. Please don't forget me. "

"You foolish child!"

"There's another reason, " Joy added. "Clarence proposed last night. I'd be almost sure to say 'yes' to save my face about the otherthing, if I stayed, and I might have to marry him if I did.... Queerthat Clarence, that I and everybody knew was just a plain flirt, should really want to, and John not!" she added absently. "Good-by. "

She was off the couch and had hurried out of doors, where Phyllis, half-clad as she was, could not follow her. 

Phyllis rose and went to the door, but the little slim brown figurewas already going swiftly toward the station, her suitcase swingingin her hand. 

It occurred to Phyllis as she walked over to the telephone thatusually crises found her clad in a blue negligee of some sort. Thenshe got Dr. Hewitt's number. 

"Is that you, John Hewitt?" she called. "Come over to this housethis moment! ... Yes, something serious _has_ happened. Anddon't ask for Allan--ask for me. I'll be on the porch waiting foryou if I can. If not, stay there and wait for me. This isprivate--and--yes, about Joy! Come!"

Joy got the train with a desolately long interval of waiting at thestation. It was a day-coach. She had all the time in the world tothink things out. Her grandparents were back in the city house, sheknew. They would be glad to see her in their different ways, sheknew that, too. She could drop into her niche noiselessly, withscarcely a question from Grandfather, and all the lovingness in theworld from Grandmother, except if Grandfather needed attention. Theold gowns were still in her closet.... _When she got home it wouldbe reception day!_

As this recollection forced itself on her she felt her heart sinklower than it had been before. All the tormenting memories in theworld--and Grandfather would make her dress and be there.... 

She clasped her hands involuntarily, and felt on the left one thepressure of the wishing ring. She had meant to take it off and leaveit with Phyllis, and she had forgotten to. 

"There isn't much left to wish, " she thought. She clasped her handstighter over it. "Nothing much--but to get to sleep for a littlewhile, and dream it isn't so. I--I suppose I can do that without awish. "

She tried very hard, and she had only had about three hours of sleepthat night, not to speak of a most exciting evening before it. Shereally thought in her heart that she couldn't sleep, but she laidher head back against the hot red velvet of the seat, and actuallydid sleep dangerously near the time to change cars. She got achair-car after that, but, having got into the way of it, drowsedagain. She woke up from a dream that John was coming down the aisle, only Gail was somewhere outside with a rope around his arms, and wasgoing to pull him back in a minute, to find that she was at thejourney's end. She had only her suitcase to gather up. She had noteven asked Phyllis to send her trunk. Well, Phyllis would, anyway. 

The old house was just the same. She thought irrepressibly, as shecame slowly up the steps, about the little boy who ran away fromhome, and when he came back after four hours, fidgeted a while, andthen said off-handedly, "Well, I see you have the same old cat!" Sheknew exactly how that small boy had felt. 

"The same old cats!" she said half-aloud as three plump, velvet-upholstered ladies ambled down the steps, and passed herwithout knowing her. Then she checked her mind in its careering. "Imustn't get Gailish, even if I am unhappy, " she reminded herself. "That's the sort of thing she'd say. "

Old Elizabeth was in the hall, in attendance, as usual. Joy flung herarms round her impulsively and kissed her. It was good to see her again, and to know that she didn't know any terrible things about her havingcommandeered a lover that really belonged to somebody else. 

"Oh, Miss Joy, Miss Joy dear!" said old Elizabeth. "How good you gothere in time for the reception! And it's good to see you, too. Runup and git into some pretty clothes like your grandpa likes, and goright into the parlor. "

Joy smiled a little as she obeyed old Elizabeth. It seemed queer, and yet natural, to come back and slip into her old place as a minorfigure in the old unbreakable routine. She had been a real personwith a major part to play, all these weeks at Wallraven.... But itwas rather a comfort, now, to feel that it didn't matter to anybodywhat you did, as long as Grandfather was pleased. And she felt as ifshe was willing to be a whole row of parlor bric-a-brac, she was someek and so tired and unhappy. 

It was the amber satin she had rebelled so against that she took outof her suitcase deliberately and put on. It was tight across thechest, and actually a little short for her--she had _grown_, really grown in the active open-air weeks she had been away. She wastanned, too, she found when the yellow dress was on, and there was afreckle on the back of one little white hand. She braided her hairin the old way and went down to the long parlors, back to theautographed pictures and framed letters, and Grandfather, benignantly great at the end of the room. 

Grandmother was very glad to see her. They snatched a minute in adark corner before they had to go on seeing guests. Joy foundherself going up and down the room saying courteous things to peoplein just the old way. They were not surprised to see her. Perhapsthey had scarcely noticed that she had been away. 

"It's the same old cat--I've only been away three hours, " shereminded herself with a little rueful smile. Then she saw ashy-looking couple over in the corner, and went over, to try to putthem at ease.... She wouldn't have thought about people being shy orneeding putting at ease before she went away!... 

"Something _has_ happened to me, " thought Joy. Then she thoughtwhat it was. Why, she was doing the way John would have done--thinkingabout other people's feelings, not her own, for one minute. It feltwarm in her heart. She had that for a keepsake from John, anyway. 

But she found she was making a mistake to think about John. After ahalf-hour of moving about the long parlors she fled. The little darkplace in the back hall was just the same. Six weeks, naturally, hadnot altered it. 

She sat down on the bottom step in a little heap, with her face inher hands, under Aunt Lucilla's triumphant picture. She rememberedit above her, but she did not want to look at it. 

"I wish you hadn't egged me on, Aunt Lucilla, " she said mostunfairly from between her hands. 

She did not know how long she had sat there, when she heard a littlesqueak, and looked up with her heart jumping. It sounded like thesqueak doors make that haven't been opened for--say--six weeks ortwo months.... 

There in the ray of light from the chandelier in the room behind, the light glinting on his fair curly hair, he stood as he had stoodbefore, the wishing-ring man. 

For a moment Joy thought she was seeing something that wasn't so. Then she looked down. The ring was on her finger still, not on his. And he was not a vision. He was a human man, a man she knew andloved. And he did not smile at her this time, as the vision wouldhave done, in a quizzical, stranger-friendly fashion, and standstill. He was over at her side in one swift step, and he had bothher hands tight, as if they belonged to him, and he was talking toher in a loving, scolding voice, as people only talk to you when youbelong to them and they to you. 

"Joy! You very naughty little girl, to run away this way!"

For a minute she only wanted to cling to his hands and tell him howglad--how glad she was to see him, and how nothing else in the wholebeautiful world mattered at all. But she remembered she mustn't. 

"You told Gail. You might have known she'd shame me before everybodyif she could. She doesn't care.... Oh, John, how could you?"

She held on to him hard for comfort even while she was reproaching him. 

He looked down at her in the half-light, then, as if he was fairlycontent with what he saw in her face, closed the door behind him. They could still see each other enough to talk. 

"Next time give me a little more benefit of the doubt, my dear. _Inever told Gail anything_!"

When John told you anything it was so. That was all there was to_that_. She gave a gasp of blessed relief. 

"But--" she protested. "But Gail knew----"

He sat down on the step below her. 

"But Gail didn't know anything! Gail never will know anything. Nobody ever will but you and I and Phyllis Harrington, who is muchsafer than a church. But it did take a certain amount of diplomacyto extract from Gail exactly what she said to you that frightenedyou into another state--or rather what she meant by it. "

He was smiling now. Could it possibly be----

"I went to Gail as soon as Phyllis had called me up and had had itout with me--which, I may add, she did rather severely, " he went oncalmly, though he still held one hand as if he was afraid Joy wouldvanish again. "And Gail said----"

He stopped provokingly, and Joy held her breath. 

"Well, I won't torment you, though I am inclined to think youdeserve it. It appears that Gail had learned from that friend ofhers, Laura Ward, to whom she had spoken of you and your people, that you posed as a model for a couple of artists, just before youleft this city, in order to earn money for gowns. The girl lived inthe same studio building with them ... Their name was Morrow, Ithink. She was under the impression that you were a professionalmodel till the Morrows explained, and you had struck her as such avery good type that she remembered you and the whole episode. Gailwas teasing you about it, as she teases every one. She has aprovocative, half-mocking manner that she lets go too far sometimes. I'm not inclined to forgive her for tormenting my little girl. "

Joy gave a long sigh of relief. 

"Then--you're not engaged to Gail?"

He gave the hands he held a little half-impatient, half-loving shake. 

"Would I have asked you to marry me under those circumstances?"

"You never asked me to marry you, " said Joy in a subdued voice. Shefelt as if the world were coming down around her ears. "I was atrial fianc�e, and a good deal of a trial at that, as you said. And--you only did it to oblige me, and--and I'm very much obligedand--and hadn't you better go?"

If he stayed much longer----

His voice, that had been light, became more tender and more serious. 

"Joy, do you think I could see much of you without caring for you?When I first met you I took you for a child, and there was so muchof the child about you afterwards that, when I yielded to an impulseand helped you out of your dilemma I scarcely knew I was in lovewith you. But it didn't take me long after that to find it out. Andmy only fear was that you were going through it all in the samechildlike spirit, that you couldn't care for me. But when I askedyou if you belonged to me, and you said--do you remember? You alwayswere human--for me'--why--" his voice became happier again, for shehad not drawn away, "why, I thought I was asking you to marry me. And I thought you were saying you would. But if you weren't.... _Don't_ you care, Joy? _Aren't_ you mine? It doesn't seem as ifyou could be any one else's. "

His voice broke. 

She bent down, where she sat above him. Her voice was very happy andvery tender. 

"But I always was, John. Always, from the first minute you openedthe door there, and looked at me, and spoke. I--I expect I alwaysshall be. "

Neither of them spoke for a while after that. Presently John heldher off and looked at her, and laughed a little. 

"Well, what?" demanded Joy peacefully. She didn't much care what, but she wanted to know. "And Elizabeth sometimes brushes under thesestairs when receptions are over. She may find us. "

"I shall be delighted to meet Elizabeth, " said John with his usualcalm. "But it merely occurred to me that it wasn't so much that youbelonged to me as that I belonged to you. I'm not sure that you'reentirely a human being yet. And I don't think I shall trust you anylonger with that wishing ring. "

She slipped it off very seriously and gave it to him. 

"I would only wish that you should have everything you wanted, " shesaid. "I did, you know. "

He slid it back on the finger it was so much too large for. "I'llget you an honest-to-goodness one, too, " he said. "But you'd betterkeep it. I _have_ everything I wanted. "

He drew her head down and kissed her in demonstration of the fact. 

"But I do think it was the ring that did it, " said little Joy. 

THE END