And she was better. As she rose from the table the dark cloud lifted, she saw clearly once more; saw the Routledge banner streaming in the breeze.
"And now for those tiresome books," she said almost gaily. She went away to the drawing-room and Joan collapsed; she felt sick, scenes always upset her.
She thought: "I wish I could hide my head in a table napkin and cry like Mother did." Then she thought: "I wonder how Mother manages it. I wouldn't have cried, I'd have hit him!"
She could not eat. In the drawing-room she heard her mother humming, yes, actually humming over the books!
"That's all right," thought Joan, "they must be nice and cheap this week, that's a comfort anyhow."
Presently Mrs. Ogden looked into the dining-room.
"Joan!"
"Yes, Mother?"
"No lessons to-day, dear."
"No, Mother."