The father and uncle exchanged glances and waited; but Joan, turning back, was again absorbed in the painting above them, and saw nothing.
"We are talking about the weather, my dear," said Mr. Hegan, dryly, and Joan flushed as she roused again. "Does their nurse think the children should go out?"
Joan laughed aloud. She had a child's laugh. "Lolly? Why, father, Lolly doesn't know anything. You wrote Aunt Jane you would rather the children had a stupid nurse than a bright one who would force them forward, so we chose out Lolly, and indeed, father, you've got your rather." She laughed out again—with no impertinence, but an open enjoyment that anything should be expected of Lolly.
"Is this the nurse you expect to keep?" asked the Bishop of his brother.
Mr. Hegan looked troubled. Joan watched him anxiously, and with a swift keenness of expression that surprised and pleased her uncle.
"Father," she said, seriously, "I haven't asked what your plans are, but whatever they may be, don't part with Lolly. She's half a fool, but she bathes the children beautifully, and keeps their clothes nice, and they love her just as the baby loves her cribby-house. She is so soft and kind and pleasant to them. I always—or Aunt Jane—decide things."
Again the brothers exchanged glances, as Joan stooped to extricate the baby, who had been tilted over into the scrap-basket.
"She looked a woman as she said that," whispered the Bishop, "and like a child the moment before."
"She is both," said the father. "Joan, sit here a moment, my dear. We want to talk with you. Your uncle does not approve what I am going to do, but I have decided, if you feel able to undertake it, to let you drop study for a year, and keep house for me and the children. What do you say? Could you 'decide things' without Aunt Jane?"
To the disappointment of those who were closely watching her on this test question, Joan's radiant delight rose as a screen before any latent capacity she might have shown.