"Why, Peace Maythorne's. I suppose she and mother would say we'd tried somehow or other to prefer one another in honor, you know, and that's the thing of it. Because you see I know if I'd always had everything my own way, I shouldn't have liked you a bit, and I'd have been real glad when you went off."
"Joyce, Joyce!" called her father from the entry, "Here's the coach. It's time to be getting ready to cry and kiss all around."
"Oh—hum!" said Gypsy.
"I know it," said Joy, not very clear as to what she was talking about. "Where's my bag? Oh, yes. And my parasol? Oh there's Winnie riding horseback on it. Well, Gypsy, go—od—"
"Bye," finished Gypsy, with a great sob. And oh, such a hugging and kissing as there was then!
Then Joy was caught in her Auntie's arms, and Tom's and Winnie's all at once, it seemed to her, for the coachman was in a very great hurry, and by the time she was in the coach seated by her father, she found she had quite spoiled her new kid gloves, rubbing her eyes.
"Good-bye," called Gypsy, waving one of Winnie's old jackets, under the impression that it was a handkerchief.
"Twice every week!"