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The captain brought home a book or two daily, and left them in his room, seeing which, his self-denying hostess carried up the two flights of stairs her own copies of "Clarke's Commentaries," "The Saints' Best," "Joy's Exercises," and "Morning and Night Watches," and arranged them neatly on his table.
Upon the whole Edward Henry had been glad. He had sent for Miss Cunningham, who was Rose's understudy, had given her her instructions, called another rehearsal for the afternoon, and effected a saving of nearly half Isabel Joy's fantastic salary. Then he had entered into financial negotiations with four evening papers and managed to buy, at a price, their contents-bills for the day.
Rutherford is attractive and all that, 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 John know that this was an insult, not a compliment, in Joy's mind? She had seen any amount of Clarences ignoring her, to be sure, but still saying Clarence things to others in her hearing all her days.
Her mother-in-law laughed as she turned to greet her son, still holding fast to one of Joy's hands. "I know you don't like being kissed in public, Johnny, but you know I always do it, anyhow. You good boy, to actually tell her I liked having 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.
Many brave knights I find assembled here, And joy's glad radiance beams in every eye; One mourner, one alone I have encountered; He must conceal himself, where all rejoice. BURGUNDY. And who is conscious of such heavy guilt, That of our favor he must needs despair? JOHANNA. May he approach? Oh, tell me that he may; Complete thy merit. Void the reconcilement That frees not the whole heart.
"If I know Gail, she'll look like a Christmas tree. But don't let that weigh on your mind, dear child. Nobody could look better than you do, if Viola and I did combine two of your frocks into one. Could they, Viola?" The colored girl, who had been doing the masses of Joy's bronze hair while her mistress, kneeling by the dressing-table, put the finishing touches to some frock-draperies, giggled.
"You'd just better come into the dining-room," said Winnie to Gypsy, who was standing out in the yard, remarkably interested in the lilac-bush, and under the very curious impression that people thought she wasn't crying. "I think it's real nice Joy's gone, 'cause she didn't eat up her luncheon. There's a piece of pounded cake with sugar on top.
"They're all right I tell you, but I think you girls are just too horrid trying to insinuate that I'm in love with Phil," protested Bet, her face flushing, her blue eyes snapping with anger. "We don't have to insinuate anything, Bet. You give yourself away every time his name is mentioned," was Joy's emphatic reply. "I move we change the subject.
I want to show you something." There was so much suppressed mystery in Joy's voice that Cynthia obeyed without demur, and back of the bushes found her examining a little boarded-up window into the cellar. One board of it had, through age and dampness, rotted and fallen away. There happened to be no glass window-frame behind it.
Do you want to know what she said?" Gypsy was looking very hard the other way. She nodded, but did not speak, gulping down something in her throat. "This was what she said—softly, in Joy's frightened way, you know: 'You're all I had anyway, said she. 'All the other girls have got mothers, and now I won't ever have any, any more.
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