That would be profanation!
"I wish somebody would come!" she thought. "I'll have to leave not
only Clarence, but my nice fountain, in a minute." The next thing
she thought was, "What a well-trained wishing ring!" for Viola
appeared between the tall rose trees at the entrance to the little
pleasance.
"Miss Joy, have you seen Philip anywhere?" she asked. "It's his
dinner-time, and I've hunted the house upsidedown for him."
"Nowhere at all," said Joy truthfully, "Oh, is it as late as all
that? I'd better go, Mr. Rutherford."
She followed Viola swiftly out, waving her hand provokingly to
Clarence.
"There's a way out on the other side of the garden," she called back
casually.
"I've found a note from Philip, Viola," Phyllis called as they
neared the house. "He's lunching out, it seems."
She handed Viola the note.
"I hav gon out too Lunchun," it stated briefly. "Yours Sincerely,
Philip Harrington."
"He'll come back," his mother went on, with a perceptible relief in
her voice. "He has a corps of old and middle-aged ladies about the
village who adore him. He's probably at Miss Addison's--she's his
Sunday-school teacher. He really should have come and asked, I
suppose. Well, come in, Joy, and let us eat. Allan won't be
back--he's gone off to some village-improvement thing that seems to
think it would die without him."
They ate in solitary state, except for Angela, and after that
nothing happened, except that they separated with one accord to take
long, generous naps.
Pages:
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149