He glanced up quickly at the reproachful tone, but catching the gleam of fun in her eye relaxed happily.
"I didn't mean to," he said contritely, "but you took me so by surprise! I am ready, now, to do whatever you wish done, and there shall be no more laughing."
"Well, then, could we not—this is Miss Dover, Mr. Dalton—couldn't we pass as acquaintances of yours, say? Don't people ever come to look the Works over?"
"Not often, but they might. And shall I invent new names for you both?" His manner was as alert as Joyce's own, now, and the perpendicular lines were nearly smoothed out between his eyes.
"No. If, as you say, my name is unknown we will not dye ourselves too deeply in deception. I think I'll remain Joyce Lavillotte, thank you! Can we start at once?"
He seemed pleased at her eagerness, but gave her handsome mourning costume a perplexed glance.
"Assuredly, only—I don't know much about such things, but aren't you pretty well dressed to go around in the worst parts? There are some dirty places, though it's clean work in the main. I know you wish to be thorough," with an approving glance, "so I mention it. You haven't any old frock that you could get at near by?"
At this instant Ellen was heard to give a little sniff and both turned their gaze upon her, Dalton's questioning, and Joyce's laughing and deprecatory.
"Did you speak, Ellen?" she asked mischievously.
"No 'm, I didn't, but I was just a-thinkin' that if you'd 'a' listened to me and wore your old Henrietta-cloth——"