Part 15 (2/2)
”Well, she's creditable,” said John unemotionally, but with a little smile beginning to show at the corners of his mouth.
”I'm ready!” called Joy breathlessly from the top of the stairs, and ran down tumultuously. ”Oh, Phyllis, can't I have some roses to take to 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 teach them to love you for yourself alone. Come on, kiddie.”
He tucked her hand under his arm and hurried her, laughing, down the drive. Phyllis ran after them with a too-late-remembered motor-veil, which she managed to convey into the car by the risky method of tying a stone in it and throwing the stone. It just missed John, and Joy nearly fell out, turning to wave thanks for it.
John threw his arm around her hastily to hold her in, and so Phyllis saw them out of sight.
”You needn't do that any more,” observed Joy as they sped on.
”There's n.o.body can see us now.”
”That, with most people,” observed John amusedly, ”would be a reason for continuing to do it.”
”M'm,” said Joy in a.s.sent, as he removed his arm. ”You see,” she went on rather apologetically, ”I never was engaged before, not even this much, and I probably shan't always do it right.... Do you think I shall?”
”Very well, indeed,” answered her trial fiance dryly. ”I have always heard that when you were engaged to a girl she took the opportunity to torment you as thoroughly as possible. But I haven't any more personal experience of the holy bonds of affiancement than you have, my dear child.”
Joy's heart suddenly reproached her for having teased such a kind person as this at all. She clutched his arm with such impulsive suddenness that the car almost left the road.
”John, I do want to be good to you! And I want to be as little trouble as possible! And I want to have you _like_ me . . . and respect 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'll please tell me what to do--it's hard to say, but I'll try to explain what I mean. Haven't you always thought, just a little, when you hadn'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 sped smoothly down a country lane. Then he nodded.
”Yes,” he said, and no more. He was not given to talking about his feelings.
”And you planned her--a little--didn't you?” Joy persisted. ”I know you did--people do. Well... John--couldn't you tell me a little bit about how _She_ was going to act--so I could act that way? It would 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. He looked down at her silently. Then he spoke, a little abruptly.
”I never planned her in much detail,” he said. ”She always seemed to be dressed in blue, or in white, and her hair was parted. She seemed to be connected with a fireplace,” he ended inconsequently, and laughed 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, looked as if he was suddenly rea.s.sured that she was only a little girl, after all--not a provoking firefly, but a wistful, unconscious child who 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.
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