She knelt there a little longer, with her arms thrown out over the pillow. Saying her prayers always comforted her. She waited till she was quieter. Then she rose resolutely and dried her eyes, and went downstairs again, to make her report.
She found that Clarence was gone.
"I got rid of him," John explained serenely to her questioning glance. "You didn't need him particularly, did you, kiddie?"
Joy lifted her eyebrows.
"Not particularly," she replied, "but I should have liked to say good-night to him."
"I felt exactly that way myself," responded John cheerfully, "so I did. I was like the man in the Ibsen parody, who said, 'I will not only make him feel, but be at home!'" He paused a moment, and looked graver. "Come here, kiddie," he said.
Joy had been standing just inside the door all this time, on tiptoe for flight. She came slowly over in response to his beckoning hand, and he drew her down to a stool beside him, keeping his arm around her.
"Little girl," he said, "you're young, and you're inexperienced, and I don't want to see you let Rutherford go too far. I'd rather you didn't take part in this affair he's getting up."
Joy started back from his encircling arm, and looked at him reproachfully.
"Oh, John! Why, I want to dreadfully!"