The Poor Boy could not get Miss Jocelyn Grey out of his head, nor that look which she had had of belief in him. The episode was a rejuvenation, and there were days when he was steadily joyful from morning to night.
He was having luncheon one day, and he said to Martha:
"I never knew what Miss Joy believed. But ever since I saw—thought I saw her—that time—I've been as sure as sure that she knew justice had miscarried."
"I'm for thinking you're right," said old Martha.
"But if she believed in me, why didn't she write and say so? We were such good friends until we had a sort of misunderstanding."
"You never told me about that."
"Oh, it was silly. We were both staying with the Brettons; and one day Miss Joy turned her ankle and I wanted to carry her back to the house, and she wouldn't let me. Every step she took hurt her a lot, and me more. I was a spoiled boy. I always did what I wanted to do. It seemed to me that I wanted to carry her more than anything I'd ever wanted to do. And she wouldn't let me. So we managed to misunderstand each other very thoroughly, and then things began to happen—things began to happen."
The Poor Boy sighed. Then he looked up with a smile and a blush.
"I've always thought," he said, "that if she had let me carry her, I would have asked her to marry me. Anyway, it's the nearest I ever came to asking any one."
"And not very near," said Martha, "since she wouldn't be bothered with a lift."