"If you are certain, Gilbert; but it was a good while, and"—"It's mild and pleasant to-day, Miss Joyce."
"Well, it's good of you to think so. Then drive to the Bonnivels, and I won't be so long this time."
"Take all the time you want, Miss Joyce."
He gently shut the door upon her and, mounting to the box, drove carefully away through the thronged streets, turning westward and leaving the neighborhood of legal offices to plunge into the somewhat unsavory precincts given over to markets and fruit venders, passing which, he gradually emerged into the less frequented lengths of avenue leading far out into the suburbs. It was a long and not too pleasant drive, but Joyce Lavillotte was too busy with her thoughts to mind, and Gilbert Judson too intent upon the safe guidance of her spirited team to care. The dreamer inside was indeed surprised when he stopped and, glancing out, she saw they had reached their destination.
It was a corner house, frame-built, and of a comfortable, unfashionable aspect, set down in a square which showed its well-kept green even in winter. The lace-hung windows were broad, sunny and many paned, and a gilded cage flashed back the light in one of them. Joyce flung it an eager glance of expectancy and ran lightly up the steps of the square porch, as if overjoyed to be there. Before she could ring, the door was flung open with the outburst,
"I knowed it was you! I saw you froo de window." She caught up the laughing child with a loving word. "Of course you knew me, sweetheart! Where's mama, and Auntie, and 'Wobin', and all?"
The brown curls bobbed against her shoulder and the red lips met her own in frank affection.
"Dey's heah, but Wobin's wunned away."
"Wunned away? The naughty dog! Ah, Dorette, there you are! How's the blessed mother?"
"Better, Joyce; no pain in several days. Come in, dear—she'll be so glad! Oh, Joyce I did think when all restrictions were removed——"