our' business,
anyhow?"

"Camille, we are both convinced that poor Lozcoski has been unjustly
accused, and Murfree is the real criminal. To get the Pole out of
prison, and to keep Murfree out, requires some man[oe]uvring, and a lot
of 'lawing,' as Gilbert calls it."

"But why keep that old Murfree out? I should think he deserved all he
can get."

"I suppose he does, but the poor man is so ill. It's a cruel world,
dear--but a beautiful one, too!"

"Then, didn't you go to see the Tierney man?" asked Camille, more
interested in that tragedy than the other.

"Yes, we did. He has every comfort, and we secured him the best of
counsel. We are sure he will be acquitted."

Camille winked at the fire, a smile on her lips. That "we" tickled her.
She glanced around at Joyce, who lay dreamily gazing into the blaze, her
eyes and thoughts far away. She broke into a little laugh which
attracted the dreamer's attention, and as the latter turned her head
surprisedly, she said.

"Do you realize how funny that 'we' and 'our' sound, Joycie dear? Six
months ago you thought little enough of George Dalton, and now he is in
everything you do."

"Well, it's his business to be, child. Six months ago I did not
understand nor appreciate him--now, I do."

Camille gave a grunt.

"We don't see anything of you at all, any more," she flung out, almost
spitefully.

"I have been very busy, sweetheart. Did you eat pickled peppers for
supper? I wouldn't. They spoil your--complexion."

Camille had to laugh at the tone of this, and at the other's merry eyes.

"No, I didn't, and I've been good all day. I went to your old library
concern and attended to it beautifully, and I talked to Lucy like a
grandmother, and gave her splendid advice. She really chirked up
wonderfully, and tried to hide her smiles behind that ridiculous veil.
Isn't she funny?"

"Or pathetic--which? But you've been a good child, I see. Now, try the
same process on me. I'm all tired out and need 'chirking,' too."

"You may be tired, but it hasn't struck in, Joyce. You're just beaming
inside, and it shines through."

Joyce laughed and snuggled down closer into her pillows.

"What sharp eyes you have! So you don't approve of me unless I am weary
inside, as well as out?"

"I do too, only--well, this is just the way you used to look when we
were expecting Leon home, and we are not expecting him now."

"Oh, you think I have mistaken the occasion? I see!" She spoke in a to