A faint pink crept under his freckles and tan.
"Well, I reckon that should ought to be enough for me—to hear you say that."
"I do say it. And now I'll go and tell Ellen you're taking her into Rye for the show. She'll be a happy girl."
§10
Ellen was not quite so happy as her sister expected. Her sum of spectacular bliss stood in Shakespearean plays which she had seen, and in "Monsieur Beaucaire," which she had not. A wild beast show with its inevitable accompaniment of dust and chokiness and noise would give her no pleasure at all, and the slight interest which had lain in the escort of the Vines with the amorous Stacey was now removed. She did not want Arthur Alce's company. Her sister's admirer struck her as a dull dog.
"I won't trouble him," she said. "I'm sure he doesn't really want to go."
"Reckon he does," said Joanna. "He wants to go anywhere that pleases me."
This did not help to reconcile Ellen.
"Well, I don't want to be taken anywhere just to please you."
"It pleases you too, don't it?"