"No, only ten minutes or so, and he's got that album 'ts got your pictures ranged along ever sence you was a baby. I guess he'll git along. What shall I 'phone that Hapgood girl?"
"Ask her to come in an hour from now, if she can. Oh, is that my new house-gown? You have it all finished, and how pretty it is! Had I better put it on?"
"That's what 'twas made for, wa'n't it? Of course!"
Ellen, herself, adjusted its lace and ribbons, then watched Joyce's descent to the lower floor with approving eyes.
"There ain't many 'twould make her look so well on so little, that's certain. But then again there ain't many that needs so little to make 'em look well, so I guess it's a stand-off. And she's always pleased with what I do, and that's comforting," she remarked to the balustrade.
George Dalton stepped forward to meet his employer with extended hand, and did not immediately resign the fingers committed to his clasp.
"I felt that I nearly walked you to death yesterday," he observed apologetically, "and ought to assure myself of your health this morning. You look very fresh and beau—and ready for anything."
"Oh, I am; though I was up half the night in addition, which explains my laziness this morning. I suppose you know who has come?"
"No, I've not heard. Mr. Barrington hasn't ventured into the wilds, has he? Or that other lawyer, Mr. West?"
"No." Joyce shook her head, shrinking unaccountably from making the simple statement, and wishing Ellen had been more communicative with the visitor. "It's Madame Bonnivel's son, the naval officer, Leon."