Monday morning, with the first ray of light, Darcy was up and at his car, and before the people of Meadow Brook had begun to think about waking up he and Joyce were on their way to Silverton. Joyce had around her shoulders her gray fox neckpiece. Nan had ostentatiously thrown it out the window in the gray of the morning when they stopped there for Joyce’s trunk saying: “Here, Joyce, you’ll need this. It’s chilly. I had it put carefully away for you in camphor all winter.”
They had the road to themselves for the first two hours and Darcy’s racing engine flew out along the road as smoothly as perfect steel and well oiled bearings could make it. They drove into Silverton at ten minutes to eight, and went straight to Joyce’s little house to leave her trunk, much to the wonder and delight of Mrs. Bryant who hadn’t known what to make of Joyce’s absence.
Joyce was wearing on her finger a splendid diamond. Darcy had routed a jeweller friend out of bed late Saturday night to get it, and paid for it with a check that almost cleaned his bank account out entirely, but he wore a look on his face of utter happiness.
They drove up to the school house five minutes before the bell rang, and Professor Harrington stood on the steps talking to a teacher. Joyce was still in her new spring suit and pretty, becoming little hat, with the gray fox around her neck, and Harrington felt his resolve slowly melting away from him. How could one be cold to a girl who looked like that? She certainly was stunning in those clothes. He had thought all along that clothes would make a big difference. But who the deuce was the big, good-looking giant who brought her.
And then the giant stooped and kissed Joyce, and he frowned.
“Was that your brother?” he asked as Joyce came flying up the walk afraid she was going to be late.
Joyce lifted a saucy face and smiled:
“No, Mr. Harrington,” she said sweetly. “That is the man I am going to marry. Have you time to come down and meet him?”
THE END
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