am--not able to get
anything that I want. That wasn't in the bargain at all, when we settled
that you should live with me."

Joan knew that it was not. But it was very hard to bear!

She went to Mittie, and made one more attempt in that direction, ending,
as she expected, unsuccessfully.

"It really is my turn, you know, Mittie, dear."

"Your turn? What! because I went to that silly tea last week? As if the
two things could be compared!"

Mittie ran to the glass to inspect herself.

"Why didn't you just tell Grannie that you meant to do it, instead of
asking whether she could spare you? So absurd! She would have given in
then."

Joan might have answered, "Because I have some sense of duty!" But she
said nothing--it was so useless.

She debated whether to write a note for Mittie to take, and then decided
that she would run down to the river-edge and would explain to Fred
Ferris himself why she might not go, not implying any blame to her
sister, but just saying that she could not leave her grandmother.

The thought of this cheered her up, for surely he would understand.

But a few minutes before the time fixed for his arrival a message
summoned her to the old lady, and she found that for a good half-hour
she would be unable to get away. All she could do was to rush to Mittie
and to give a hurried message--which she felt far from certain would be
correctly delivered.

Then for a moment she stood outside Mrs. Wills's room, choking back the
sobs which swelled in her throat, and feeling very sad and hopeless at
the thought of all she would miss, still more at the thought that her
absence might be misunderstood.

From the window, as she attended to her grandmother's wants, she had a
glimpse of Mittie, running gaily down the garden, in her pretty white
frock, carrying an open Japanese parasol in one hand, while from the
other dangled her hat and a small basket of flowers.

"Oh, Mittie, I wouldn't have done it to you--if you had cared as I do!"
she breathed.

When Mittie reached the stream, Ferris had that moment arrived.

He had made fast the painter, intending to run up to the house, and had
stepped back into the boat to put the cushions right.

A straight well-built young fellow, he looked eagerly up at the sound of
steps; and when Mittie appeared alone, a momentary look of surprise
came. But, of course Joan would follow!

Mittie wore her prettiest expression. She dropped her hat into the boat,
and he to