Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 26, 2025
Grandmother was coming forward now, to speak to him, where he stood, straight and dignified and handsome, with the little girl still on one arm. "You are my old friend Grace Carpenter's son, as I was just telling Mr. Havenith. Edith Carpenter's nephew.... I I am glad you are a friend's son," Grandmother finished tremulously.
It did not occur to them that the explanation was that she practically had been brought up in one. She had been a part of the bi-weekly receptions given to the small and great of the earth by Havenith the poet ever since she was old enough to come into the parlors and could be trusted not to cry or snatch cake.
John had no means of knowing, of course, that Phyllis had said anything about Gail Maddox, though he might have remembered, at least, that Joy had red hair and was likely to have a little of the fire that goes with it. He looked at her all over again, as if there was somebody else sitting on the floor where little Joy Havenith had been somebody rather surprising.
She sank into her own chair, and took one of the walnut sandwiches which had been spared by the reception people. She was still hungry, and proceeded to eat it, at which 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 the circumstance was gratifying to him also.
"Now, you mustn't worry about it," Phyllis said to Mrs. Havenith, rising with one of her swift, graceful movements and putting both arms about the disconsolate old lady. "John Hewitt is one of the best men I ever knew. He's a rock of defense. Indeed, you may trust him with Joy. Allan has known him since they were in college together, and he has been our closest friend since our marriage.
He couldn't go back on what the great Alton Havenith had said for many years. Joy, shivering but desperate, knew this 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 with unabated loyalty to himself.
Joy Havenith was nineteen, but you never would have known it. She had been told so often by her grandparents that she was only a child yet, that she quite believed it. No, not quite but enough to make her a little shy, and have almost the expression and manner still of a little girl.
"Joy Havenith, do you mean to say that you think I'm doing the ordinary 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.
But Nora came in with the soup just then without having been rung for, having evidently been hovering sympathetically near. "Pardon me, Doctor, but the bell is connected up," she breathed. "I hooked it up myself as soon as Mrs. Hewitt gave Miss Havenith the housekeeping." It had evidently been a sore point with Nora and, if the truth were told, with John, who had an orderly mind.
He had rather heavy shoulders and a shock of carefully brushed straight light hair, and looked about one year out of Harvard. They didn't at all belong with the middle-aged roomful. As a matter of fact, her mother knew Mrs. Havenith a little, and so they had dashed in here to save her suit from the rain.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking