"But what I want to know is," demanded Clarence, "why nobody's ever
seen that frock before."
"I have," John answered from the foot. "Joy had that on the very
first time I saw her, amber beads and crown and all. I never thought
then I'd see her making my biscuits in it."
"It's an allegory," said Clarence. "Man captures the beautiful
princess of his dream, and sets her to drudging in his kitchen. _I_
think there is something sad but sweet, as Shaw would say, about it."
"But I wanted to make the biscuits!" cried Joy before she thought.
"If I hadn't there wouldn't have been any for dinner--and you
_had_ to have dinner."
"They didn't at all," said Gail. "You spoil men. If you always say,
'But he has to have it!' and then go tearing around getting it for
him, why----"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"There are excellent biscuits a half-mile away, at the baker's in
the village, and a motor-car outside."
Joy laughed blithely.
"But you see, I'm not used to a motor-car. I'm not motor-people at
all.... Well, I suppose when you live with a poet you get in the
habit of feeling you must do what people want of you. Grandfather
was so great, you see, we felt it was--well, only polite. At least
Grandmother brought me up that way."
"I--I say! Was your grandfather _the_ Alton Havenith!"
exclaimed Tiddy, opening his eyes widely. "The one in all the
readers and cram-books and anthologies?"
"Is." corrected Joy.
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