“Yes,” said Joe, gravely. “It is as well that you have come, because I have something to say to you, and I should have had to write it. Let us go out. Would you like to go for a walk?”
Ronald was delighted to do anything that would give him a chance of escaping from Aunt Zoruiah and being alone with Joe.
“I think you had best be back to lunch,” remarked Miss Schenectady as they left the room.
“Of course, Aunt Zoë,” answered Joe. “Besides, Sybil is coming, you know.” So they sallied forth.
It was a warm day; the snow had melted from the brick pavement, and the great icicles on the gutters and on the trees were running water in the mid-day sun. Joe thought a scene would be better to get over in the publicity of the street than in private. Ronald, all unsuspecting of her intention, walked calmly by her side, looking at her occasionally with a certain pride, mixed with a good deal of sentimental benevolence.
“Do you know,” Joe began presently, “when your cable came I felt very guilty at having written to you that you might come?”
“Why?” asked Ronald, innocently. “You know I would come from the end of the world to see you. I have, in fact.”
“Yes, I know,” said Joe wearily, wishing she knew exactly how to say what she was so thoroughly determined should be said.
“What is the matter, Joe?” asked Ronald, suddenly. He smiled rather nervously, but his smooth brow was a little contracted. He anticipated mischief.
“There is something the matter, Ronald,” she said at last, resolved to make short work of the revelation of her feelings. “There is something very much the matter.”