But to Fred, when retailing what had passed, she added: "You had better motor over. And if you can persuade Joan to come, so much the better—to sleep, if possible; if not, we can send her home later."
Fred was off like a shot. The motor run was a very short affair compared with going by boat. On arrival, he found the front door of Mrs. Wills's house open; and he caught a glimpse of a brown head within the bow-window of the breakfast-room.
If he could only find Joan alone! He ventured to walk in without ringing.
Alone, indeed, Joan was, trying to darn a pair of stockings, and finding the task difficult. It had been such a long, long day—longer even for her than for Mittie.
"Fred!"
"Come in," she said, in answer to a light tap. And the last face that she expected to see appeared. "Fred!" broke from her. "Mr. Ferris!"
"No, please—I like 'Fred' best!" He came close, noting with joy how her face had in an instant parted with its gravity. "Why did you not come to us to-day?" he asked earnestly.
"I couldn't."
"Not—because you wanted to stay away?"
"Oh no!"