Part 21 (1/2)

But Clarence, naturally enough, wasn't given to casting himself as a dragon. He was perfectly certain he was a prince, and said so with charming frankness.

Joy continued to sing to herself.

”I don't see why I shouldn't kiss your hand, if I'm a prince,” he observed next. ”In fact, as nice a little hand as you have really calls for such.”

He reached for it--the nearest, with the wis.h.i.+ng ring on it.

She s.n.a.t.c.hed it indignantly away and clasped her hand indignantly over the ring. That would be profanation!

”I wish somebody would come!” she thought. ”I'll have to leave not only Clarence, but my nice fountain, in a minute.” The next thing she thought was, ”What a well-trained wis.h.i.+ng ring!” for Viola appeared between the tall rose trees at the entrance to the little pleasance.

”Miss Joy, have you seen Philip anywhere?” she asked. ”It's his dinner-time, and I've hunted the house upsidedown for him.”

”Nowhere at all,” said Joy truthfully, ”Oh, is it as late as all that? I'd better go, Mr. Rutherford.”

She followed Viola swiftly out, waving her hand provokingly to Clarence.

”There's a way out on the other side of the garden,” she called back casually.

”I've found a note from Philip, Viola,” Phyllis called as they neared the house. ”He's lunching out, it seems.”

She handed Viola the note.

”I hav gon out too Lunchun,” it stated briefly. ”Yours Sincerely, Philip Harrington.”

”He'll come back,” his mother went on, with a perceptible relief in her voice. ”He has a corps of old and middle-aged ladies about the village who adore him. He's probably at Miss Addison's--she's his Sunday-school teacher. He really should have come and asked, I suppose. Well, come in, Joy, and let us eat. Allan won't be back--he's gone off to some village-improvement thing that seems to think it would die without him.”

They ate in solitary state, except for Angela, and after that nothing happened, except that they separated with one accord to take long, generous naps.

Joy was awakened from hers by Phyllis' voice, raised in surprise.

”But, Miss _Addison!_” she was saying, on the porch below Joy's window, in a tone that was part amus.e.m.e.nt, part horror.

Joy slipped on her frock and shoes and ran down to share the excitement. When she got down, Phyllis was just leading the visitor into the old Colonial living-room, and they were having tea brought in. Philip was nowhere to be seen.

”A _wheel_barrow!” Phyllis was saying tragically, as she took her cup from the waitress, who was listening interestedly, if furtively.

”A wheelbarrow,” a.s.sented Miss Addison, a pretty, white-haired spinster. She, too, took a cup.

Phyllis cast up her eyes in horror and, incidentally, saw Joy.

”Come in,” she said resignedly. ”I'm just hearing how Philip disported himself at his 'lunchun.'”

”I didn't mean to distress you, but I really thought you should know, Mrs. Harrington,” pursued the visitor plaintively.

”I'm eternally grateful,” murmured Phyllis, beginning, as usual, to be overcome with the funny side of the situation. ”But--oh, Joy, what _do_ you think of my sinful offspring? Miss Addison says Philip spent the luncheon hour relating to her how his father went to the saloon in the village, had two gla.s.ses of beer, was entirely overcome, and had to be brought home in--in--” by this time Phyllis was laughing uncontrollably--”in a _wheel_barrow!”

Joy, too, was aghast for a moment, then the situation became too much for her, and she also began to laugh.