He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to look at it keenly.
"Do you really like her so, child?" he said.
Joy hoped he would not feel her cheek burn under his touch.
"Yes," she answered simply. "And—and now I must go and plan a dazzling menu, please, and look in the icebox without hurting the cook's feelings. It's a case of, 'Look down into the icebox, Melisande!' as Clarence Rutherford would put it."
But she did not say the last sentence aloud. She only laughed as the phrase presented itself to her.
"Now, what are you laughing at?" demanded John.
"If I told you," said Joy like an impertinent child, "you'd know. And now, dear sir, you have to go out on your rounds. Be sure to be back in time for dinner—my dinner. I'm going to plan it tonight, even if I don't cook it."
He didn't seem angry at her—only amused.
"You plan a dinner—fairy princess!" he teased her, looking down at her picturesque little figure from his capable, broad-shouldered height.
"See if I can't!" said Joy defiantly.