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Updated: May 2, 2025
Joy found herself being steered masterfully into a little semi-dark room that opened off the long parlor. John planted her in a low chair 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 anxiety to learn.
"There's the man who sent her over, if you approve of it all so highly," were her departing words to John. "I promise not to be inhospitable to him!" She waved her hand. "Mr. Rutherford!" she called. "Come on down and go off somewhere with me!" Clarence unfolded himself with more haste than usual, and obliged. "To the end of the world, Sorcerette, or any little place like that," he said sweetly.
Phyllis looks all 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-world expression simply shrieks aloud for a name like that. A sorcerette is a cross between a seraph and a little witch. There's no telling what she might do to you!" "Oh!" cooed Joy.
Joy pulled her thoughts from all that by force. "Clarence Rutherford calls me a sorcerette," she thought, "and I suppose I must be. This must be being one. But, oh, I have to think how I can get John to love me back!" It looked a little hopeless, to think of, at first. He was so old and wise and strong, compared to her, just a nineteen-year-old girl who had never had even one lover to practise on!
"Your tone hints that we didn't come off to discuss the poets. You are quite right, Sorcerette. When two charming young persons like ourselves are alone together on a wonderful fall afternoon they should discuss only each other. And you must admit that my references to literature were only incidental to yourself."
And she was going to have to live close by him for a month, knowing that, and keeping him from knowing it and then go away from him and never see him any more. "This is our dance, Sorcerette," said Clarence's voice in her ear. Joy had supposed, when she finally went to sleep at three in the morning, that she would waken with all the excitement gone and feeling very unhappy.
"Did you think 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 the insinuation, but there really seemed no way out. "Cheer up, Sorcerette, dear," he said in her ear, as he swept her away. "'Get happy, chile, ain't you done got me?" She did not talk.
Then she laughed up at him impishly. "You say this thing is going to be done right?" she mocked. "Very well, then, when Mr. Rutherford is nice to me you ought to be nicer. When he sits down close to me and tells me I'm a sorcerette " "A what?" demanded John swiftly. "See here, Joy, I'm practically in charge of you, and you're very young, you know, and can't be expected to know much about men.
Joy answered him with fullness and simplicity. "A sorcerette is somebody with coloring like mine, and a cross between a seraph and a little witch," she replied innocently. "That's what Clarence said. But I think he made up the name himself," she added conscientiously, as if that would be some help. John grinned a little in spite of himself.
"But I don't know how to dance," she gasped as she felt herself being 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 the dancing for two. Hear me?" Joy did as she was told, and marvel of marvels! found herself following him easily. She was really dancing!
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