You don't get things unless you give up to them."
It was a beautiful doctrine, and doubtless had much to do with
making Mrs. Hewitt the healthy and dauntless person she was, but it
had its limitations, and John reminded her of them inexorably.
"You have neuritis when you catch cold in the wind, and you know
it," he told her. "Do go in, Mother, to please me."
"You know I'll be back again as soon as you're out of sight," she
observed. But she did go in.
Alas for the power of elderly ladies to keep off neuritis by
defiance! When they came back at twelve-thirty Mrs. Hewitt was
nowhere to be seen.
"Mrs. Hewitt says she has a slight headache, and will you please not
wait luncheon for her: she's having it upstairs," was the message
they received.
"Very well," said John gravely, and he and Joy proceeded to have
luncheon alone together.
He glanced smilingly across the table at Joy as she poured his tea
with steady little hands.
"It looks very much as if you were going to have to take charge,
more or less," he said. "That's our friend the neuritis. Mother
never admits it's anything but a headache the first day. Do you
think you can look after things?"
"Why not, if she wants me to?" asked Joy.
"Well, I can imagine you standing on a drawbridge or a portcullis,
or whatever it was they trimmed medieval castles with, and waving
your hands to the knights going by," began John teasingly; "but it's
a stretch of imagination to fancy a medieval princess pouring my tea
and seeing that my papers are in order .
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