She woke up from a dream that John was coming down the aisle,
only Gail was somewhere outside with a rope around his arms, and was
going to pull him back in a minute, to find that she was at the
journey's end. She had only her suitcase to gather up. She had not
even asked Phyllis to send her trunk. Well, Phyllis would, anyway.
The old house was just the same. She thought irrepressibly, as she
came slowly up the steps, about the little boy who ran away from
home, and when he came back after four hours, fidgeted a while, and
then said off-handedly, "Well, I see you have the same old cat!" She
knew exactly how that small boy had felt.
"The same old cats!" she said half-aloud as three plump,
velvet-upholstered ladies ambled down the steps, and passed her
without knowing her. Then she checked her mind in its careering. "I
mustn't get Gailish, even if I am unhappy," she reminded herself.
"That's the sort of thing she'd say."
Old Elizabeth was in the hall, in attendance, as usual. Joy flung her
arms round her impulsively and kissed her. It was good to see her again,
and to know that she didn't know any terrible things about her having
commandeered a lover that really belonged to somebody else.
"Oh, Miss Joy, Miss Joy dear!" said old Elizabeth. "How good you got
here in time for the reception! And it's good to see you, too. Run
up and git into some pretty clothes like your grandpa likes, and go
right into the parlor.
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