"Joan wouldn't come," she said, smiling.
"Is she not well?"
"Oh yes; quite well. I did try to persuade her—but she wouldn't."
The mother and daughter exchanged glances. Fred was already walking away, and Mary remarked:
"Joan always thinks first of other people. I dare say she felt that she could not leave Mrs. Wills."
Mittie, conscious of implied blame, grew pink and eager to defend herself.
"She could have come—perfectly well! There wasn't the least reason why she shouldn't. Grannie was all right. Joan simply—simply wouldn't!" Mittie stopped, knowing that she had conveyed a false impression, but pride withheld her from modifying the words. "I told her she might—just as well."
Mrs. Ferris began to move towards the house. "It is a great pity," she said. "We all counted on having Joan. However, it cannot be helped now. I hope you will enjoy yourself, my dear. Mary will show you over the garden and the house."
To Mary she added: "The old castle must wait for another time, I think—when Joan is here."
Mittie cast a questioning look, and Mary said, in explanation: "Only an old ruin a few miles off. We meant to have an excursion there this afternoon."