"Funny?" replied John Hewitt, still laughing desperately, and trying quite as desperately to do it quietly enough to prevent the descent of the others, wanting to know what he was laughing at. "I think it's one of the funniest things that ever happened. Talk about Nemesis—if ever a punishment fitted the crime, this does!"
Joy sighed relievedly. At least, he wasn't being angry about it, and he might very well have been. She glanced out the window, which, like the windows of most New England cars in summer, had evidently been closed ever since John Hancock died, and glued in place. Then suddenly the thing struck her as funny, too. They were in for it, and by their own act. She began to laugh with him, quite forgetting that she had more explanations before her, and as a really honorable girl had no alternative but going back to Grandmother with her sins on her head.
"Oh, it is ridiculous," she gasped. "I feel as if I'd kidnapped you and couldn't dispose of you.... We really must stop laughing, or the others will come down on us to know what we're laughing at."
"You won't be able to dispose of me till the visit's over, at any rate," John answered her, sobering a little. "My mother and your grandmother have settled that for us effectually."
Joy sat bolt upright and faced him.
"You mean you're going to let it go on?"
"Why, of course I'm going to let it go on," said he matter-of-factly. "What else can we do about it?"
Joy's heart gave a spring of happiness. She wouldn't miss her visit, after all!
"We can find out that we don't like each other, and break off the day you go home. I'll come back from the train very sad," he told her.
"Thank you very much," she said happily. "I thought I was going to have to confess to every one and go back to Grandmother. I'm very glad I needn't."