So Grace picked up the boat-sail, with its needle sticking in it just as she had thrown it aside, and Phronsie gathered up the narrative of some funny mishaps they had in a little German town when they were all last abroad, and presently they were both as merry again as before; and only the Dresden clock on the white mantel interrupted them.
Without a bit of warning, the door that Polly had left ajar was pushed wide open, and a tall figure appeared just about to stalk in. “Oh, beg your pardon!” he exclaimed, beating a retreat.
“O Joel!” cried Phronsie, jumping out of her chair to run across the room and into the tall figure’s arms, “when did you come?”
“Just got here,” said Joel; “walked from the station; didn’t run across anybody but Patsy on the grounds. Anybody sick? and who’s that?” nodding into the room, as they had now edged off into the hall.
“That’s a friend,” said Phronsie, “who only came yesterday, and she fell and hurt her foot. O Joe, it is so good to see you!”
“Yes, it is good to be here,” cried Joel, feasting his eyes on her. “Well, where’s Polly?”
“Gone to town,” said Phronsie; “and she said we were not to wait luncheon for her.”
“That’s too bad,” said Joel, “for I must be off this afternoon;” and he pulled out his watch. “And now I’ll tell you, Phronsie, what I’ve come for. I want you and Grandpapa to go back with me for a few weeks. I can’t tell you why now, only that I want you both. I’m dead tired of being alone. Now, do persuade him to come, Phronsie.” Joel took her hand and held it close, his other arm being around her.
“O Joel!” cried Phronsie in great dismay, “I can’t go just now. Could you wait a few days, perhaps a week; could you, Joey dear?”
A sound very much like a groan came from the room behind them. Phronsie tore herself away from Joel, stepped back, and shut the door. “Oh, how could I be so careless!” she said remorsefully. “Now she’s heard every word we said, poor thing.”