"Oh, my dear," Mrs. Wallis cried, "I have been wondering where you were!" She laid a firm hand on her little daughter's shoulder, as she asked: "Tell me truly, had you been reading that flashy novel?"
"No, mother, I had not," Joy answered steadily. "You know I never told you a lie in my life. Oh, do believe me!"
"Most certainly I believe you, my dear. I never caught you in a falsehood, or even knew you to prevaricate; but Uncle Jasper seemed to think—no matter, he will find out your word is to be trusted."
"I know he believed I was telling stories," Joy said, blushing painfully, "but I was not. I never heard him speak so sternly before, and—and—it was so unjust!"
"And therefore very hard to bear."
Mrs. Wallis kissed Joy tenderly, and bade her not to trouble. Then she told her to go into the drawing-room to Celia. Joy obeyed, and found her sister alone, lying on the sofa, her face pale, and her eyes slightly red.
"Does your foot hurt you much?" Joy asked.
"No, not much," Celia answered; "it is a great deal more comfortable since mother bathed it. Joy, you've been crying!" she cried, accusingly. As her sister made no response, she continued: "What made you blush and look so confused when Uncle Jasper spoke to you about 'Lady Isabella's Treachery,' in the rock garden? Why couldn't you have simply said you knew nothing about it?"
"Because I thought—I fancied—didn't you get the book from Lulu Tillotson?"
"You don't know that I did, and if so, that was no reason why you should have behaved in that stupid way. Really, Joy, you have only yourself to blame that Uncle Jasper spoke to you so sharply."