Part 14 (2/2)
Fred was off like a shot. The motor run was a very short affair compared with going by boat. On arrival, he found the front door of Mrs. Wills's house open; and he caught a glimpse of a brown head within the bow-window of the breakfast-room.
If he could only find Joan alone! He ventured to walk in without ringing.
Alone, indeed, Joan was, trying to darn a pair of stockings, and finding the task difficult. It had been such a long, long day--longer even for her than for Mittie.
[Sidenote: ”Fred!”]
”Come in,” she said, in answer to a light tap. And the last face that she expected to see appeared. ”_Fred!_” broke from her. ”Mr. Ferris!”
”No, please--I like 'Fred' best!” He came close, noting with joy how her face had in an instant parted with its gravity. ”Why did you not come to us to-day?” he asked earnestly.
”I couldn't.”
”Not--because you wanted to stay away?”
”Oh no!”
”Could not your sister have been the one at home?”
Joan spoke gently. ”You see, Mittie has never before spent a day at your house. She wanted it so much.”
”And you--did you want it, too--ever so little? Would you have cared to come, Joan?”
Joan only smiled. She felt happy beyond words.
”I've got to take you there now, if you'll come. For the night, perhaps--or at least for the evening. Mittie has had a wetting”--he called the younger girl by her name half-unconsciously--”and they have put her to bed for fear of a chill. And she wants you.”
Naturally Joan was a good deal concerned, though Fred made little of the accident. He explained more fully, and an appeal to the old lady brought permission.
”Not for the night, child--I can't spare you for that, but for the evening. Silly little goose Mittie is!”
And Fred, with delight, carried Joan off.
”So Mrs. Wills can't do without you, even for one night,” he said, when they were spinning along the high road, he and she behind and the chauffeur in front. He laughed, and bent to look into her eyes. ”Joan, what is to happen when she _has_ to do without you altogether?”
”Oh, I suppose--she might manage as she used to do before we came.” Joan said this involuntarily; and then she understood. Her colour went up.
”I don't think _I_ can manage very much longer without you--my Joan!”
murmured Fred. ”If you'll have me, darling.”
And she only said, ”Oh, Fred!”
But he understood.
[Sidenote: Here is a story of an out-of-the-way Christmas entertainment got up for a girl's pleasure.]
A Christmas with Australian Blacks
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