"You
should have farmed out that sewing."
"Do you mean to say you took a bundle of those gauze frocks to do,
Joy?" demanded Gail.
Joy nodded. Gail made her feel, as usual, as if she had been silly
and imposed upon. The seminary girls were crowding their time as it
was to get in the rehearsals, and the Principal had stated with
finality that it would be impossible to give them time extra to work
on their costumes. The mothers of some of them had been written home
to and had responded, but some others of the girls had no one who
could or would do the sewing, so Joy had volunteered, together with
Phyllis, to run up the five or six of them that had to be done. She
_was_ a little tired.
"I shall come over tomorrow morning and hide them," John threatened.
But he smiled approvingly at her as he said it, and she knew that he
liked her having done it. She knew well enough the long hours he
spent with his charity patients, and all the things he did for the
people in the village--things he never spoke of.
She thought with a pang that was not a selfish one of John's lot, if
he did finally marry Gail. She did not think he could be happy with
a girl who would never try to make him so. His mother's affection
for him was irresponsible enough, but it was very real and selfless.
You couldn't imagine Gail married to John.
"It'll be too late to hide them," she answered him brightly, coming
out of her muse with an effort.
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