We need moral support in our ordeal," returned
her son, sauntering up, with his usual dignity unimpaired by a plate
of fancy cakes in each hand. "Never mind your cruel mother-in-law,
Joy. Take a lot--take two!"
"I will, anyway," interposed Allan placidly, reaching a long,
unexpected brown hand over his friend's shoulder and securing three.
"Phyllis and I need as much moral support as anybody."
"Phyllis is the only one who is minding her manners," Mrs. Hewitt
observed with a firmness that she patently didn't mean in the least.
"Phyllis, my dear, go get some of the sandwiches. We may as well
lunch thoroughly. We have heaps of time before the 'gesses' get
here, anyway."
They were all playing like a lot of children. Phyllis, flushed and
laughing, raided the kitchen with her husband and came back with
more kinds of sandwiches than Joy had known existed. They sat about
on cushions on the floor, because the chairs had been taken out for
dancing later, and the floor waxed. Joy laughed with the rest, and
lunched sumptuously on the cakes the guests ought to have had, and
thought for the thousandth time what an ideal mother-in-law was hers
at the moment, and how many of the people in the world were the
realest of real folks, and how much like Christmas every-day life
was getting to be...
"I see you are eating up everything before the really deserving poor
arrive," said a slow, coolly amused voice behind Joy, who sat with
her back to the entrance.
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