There would be inconveniences of course—her hairbrush, her toothbrush—but what were they?

And then, quite suddenly as she climbed the fence and stood in a long, white road winding away over a hill, the sun that had been slipping, slipping down lower and lower went out of sight and left only a ruby light behind, and all around the world looked gray. The sweet smells were there, and the wonderful cool air to touch her brow lightly like that hand of her mother so long ago, just as it touched and called her in the kitchen a few minutes before, but the bright world was growing quiet at the approaching night, and suddenly Joyce began to wonder where she was going.

Automobiles were coming and going hurriedly as if the people in them were going home to dinner, and they smiled and talked joyously as they passed her, and looked at her casually, a girl walking alone in the twilight with her hat in her hand.

Joyce came to herself and put on her hat. She put her papers together in a book, and the books under her arm, and slipped the strap of her handbag over her wrist. She went on walking down the road toward the pink and gold of the sunset and wondered where she was going, and then, as she lifted her eyes, she saw a star slip faintly out in the clear space between the ruby and rose, as if to remind her that One above was watching and had not forgotten her.

Chapter 2

Back in the kitchen she had left, silence reigned, and all the pans and kettles and bowls that had been used in preparing the hurried evening meal seemed to fill the place with desolation. It was not a room that Nannette cared to contemplate as she came out to get the coffeepot for Eugene’s second cup, which he insisted be kept hot. She frowned at the jelly roll all powdered with sugar and lying neatly on a small platter awaiting dessert time. It was incredible that Joyce had managed to make it in so short a time with all the rest she had to do, but she needn’t think she could make up for negligence and disobedience by her smartness.

“Gene, I think you better go down to the garage and talk to her,” said Nannette, coming back with coffee. “The kitchen’s in an awful mess, and she ought to get at it at once. I certainly don’t feel like doing her work for her when I’ve been in the city all day, and then this shock about Junior on top of it all.”

“Let her good and alone,” said Gene sourly. “She’s nothing to kick about. If I go out there and coddle her, she’ll expect it every time. That’s the way Mother spoiled her—let her do everything she took a notion to. And she has to learn at the start that things are different. What made her mad anyhow? She’s never had a habit of flying up. I didn’t think she had the nerve to walk off like that, she’s always been so meek and self-righteous.”

“Well, I suppose she didn’t like it because I wore that precious fox scarf of hers to the city. She’s terribly afraid her things will get hurt, and she pretends to think a lot of it because Mother gave it to her last Christmas.”

“Did you wear her fur?”

“Why, certainly. Why shouldn’t I? It’s no kind of a thing for a young girl like her to have, especially in her position. She ought to be glad she has something I can use that will make up for what we do for her.”

“Better let her things alone, Nan. It might make trouble for us if she gets up the nerve to fight. You can’t tell how Mother left things, you know, till Judge Peterson gets well and we hear the will read.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t your mother leave everything to you, I should like to know?”

“Well, I can’t be sure about it yet. I suppose she did, but it’s just as well to know where we stand exactly before we make any offensive moves. You know Mother said something that last night about Joyce always having a right to stay here, that it was her home. I didn’t think much of it at the time, of course, and told her we would consider it our duty to look out for Joyce till she got married, of course. But I’ve been thinking since, you can’t just tell—Mother might have been trying to prepare me for some surprise the will is going to spring on us. You know Mother had an overdeveloped conscience, and there was something about a trifling sum of money that Joyce’s father left that Mother put into this house to make a small payment, I think. I can’t just remember what it was, but that would be just enough to make Mother think she ought to give everything she owned to Joyce. I shan’t be surprised at almost anything after the way she made a fool of that girl. But anyhow, you let her alone till she gets good and ready to come in. She won’t dare stay out all night.”

“She might go to the neighbors and make a lot of talk about us,” suggested Nan. “She knows she’d have us in a hole if she did that.”

“She won’t go to the neighbors, not if I know her at all.