He thanked her fervently, and went with obvious reluctance. Gail was a little silent, even for her, who only talked when she chose. And at last Joy and John were alone. She felt a little shy of him.
"I must go clear up," she said presently, as he did not speak, moving toward the dining-room.
"You must not," he told her, with the affectionate note in his voice she loved to hear. "I want to stay here and appreciate my princess a little, and I can't do it well when she's away—or I don't want to. Sit down, Joy. I scarcely ever see anything of you any more.... Dear child, why on earth did you let Gail rampage all over the house this way? You could have had a maid in from the village."
"But she said she was going to—and I thought you knew!" cried Joy, her heart leaping up.
"Oh, you mean she took possession?" he said. "I see. That is like Gail. Well—don't let her, next time, my dear."
"I'd much, much rather not!" said Joy enthusiastically, "but she said she'd made it all right with your mother, and——"
"Oh, in that case," said John, "all right." Then he dismissed the subject, looking into the fire. "I find out some new thing about you every day, kiddie," he said. "I'm afraid I must seem like a rather quiet and unaccomplished person to you,—compared to other men."
"You mean because I ran off with Clarence," said Joy with remorseful directness, and her usual child-likeness. "I was cross because you liked Gail."
He laughed. "And I was cross because you liked Clarence. Shall we both reform a bit, little girl?"
"Oh, yes!" replied Joy radiantly. "Only I haven't much to reform about," she added thoughtfully. "Except he's kind to me, and he understands things sometimes you don't...."