"Blame you, Pat? Why, how could she?"
"Oh, I don't know. She might get to thinking on her own hook if you don't give her the facts. Joan, send the letter at once!"
So Joan dispatched the letter, and it had the effect of depressing Nancy to an alarming degree and, in consequence, of spurring Doris to renewed effort.
She was perturbed by the lack of what she knew. She had her doubts of Patricia; the sudden flight had an aspect of rout—what did it mean?
Her reply to Joan, however, was much what Martin's would have been to his nephew.
She accepted and took on faith what Joan had explained—or failed to explain.
She laid emphasis on plans for the coming winter and referred to Joan's promise to give herself seriously to her music.
"Either in New York or there, my dear, begin your real work. It is all well enough to look about before you decide, but there is a time for decision."
This letter put Joan on her mettle.
"Pat, I'm going to begin as soon as we've settled," she declared, and her wet eyes shone. "Aunt Dorrie is quite right."