Hewitt's horn. She stuffed the last things into the heavy suitcase
and ran down, dragging it after her.
Phyllis went out to the car with her, kissing her good-by.
"Now mind, this is only a loan," she told Mrs. Hewitt.
"Nothing of the sort," retorted Mrs. Hewitt with an air of
certainty. "Good-by, my dear. Give my love to Mrs. De Guenther.
Perhaps when you get back I may give an afternoon tea and allow you
to see Joy for a few minutes."
Phyllis laughed, and patted Mrs. Hewitt's gloved hand where it lay
on the steering-wheel.
"Use our place all you like, as usual," she said in sole reply, "and
don't forget to miss me."
"That's one of the loveliest girls that ever lived," said Mrs. Hewitt
as they sped away. "Anybody but Phyllis I _would_ begrudge you to.
Oh, my dear, we're going to have the best time!"
Joy squeezed the hand that should have been, but wasn't, helping the
other hand steer. Mrs. Hewitt was so adorably a young girl inside
her white-haired stateliness!
"We're going to the next village to buy materials," she told Joy
blithely, "and then we're going home to make them up, or I am. It
won't hurt to get a bit of the trousseau under way, and you know I
haven't sewed a thing for my daughter for thirty-four years--not
since the wretched child turned out to be John, and I had to take
all the pink ribbons out and put in blue!"
Mrs. Hewitt's inconsequent good spirits, somehow, took away some of
the dread with which Joy had been looking forward to her sojourn in
John's house.
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