Joyces Investments | Page 3

I wish to work out."
"Work out--how?"
"In my village."
He frowned at her in puzzled petulance.
"I don't understand a word."
"And it's almost impossible to make one understand, sir. Just wait and watch the working of my plan. Mr. Barrington, have you ever had a surplus of anything that you would gladly share with another, if you knew exactly where it was most needed?"
"Yes," smiling suddenly, and glancing into a corner where was a heaped-up, disorderly looking set of shelves from which the books had overflowed upon the floor. "I was thinking, the other day, that if I knew just the right young lawyer I would be glad to give him some of those Reports."
"That's it! That's what I mean. Somewhere, some struggling lawyer is longing for books and cannot get them; you have too many and are longing to be rid of them. There are the two halves of a complete whole; don't you see?"
"Certainly--if they could be brought together."
"Well, I want to try and bring them together."
"In your village? But how? Do you imagine you can play Providence to a whole settlement, and complete all its half circles?"
"No, sir, I've no thought of that. I simply want to make it possible for them to play Providence to each other. But it would take all day to tell you just how. You have a clue now, and suppose you watch me work it out. I shall probably come to you often for advice, and I must not take up more of your time to-day."
She arose, with a brisk movement, and began fastening her fur collar, in spite of his detaining gesture.
"No, no," she laughed, "don't tempt me! When I mount my hobby it carries me fast and far. Save yourself from its heels. But I will come again."
He laughed with a hearty note.
"You know when to dismount, evidently, and just in time to whet one's curiosity, too. I may be asking to ride it myself, next. Well, do come again--but wait! What's the name of your new town?"
"I've been puzzling over that, Mr. Barrington. I wanted in some way to have my family name connected with it, and yet not so distinctly as to be suggestive, either. There is the English of it--of course it's a free translation--that might do. I don't care to hint at my ideas in the name, so perhaps----"
"Lavillotte?" he questioned. "What is the English of it."
"'The little town,' but Littletown----"
"Why not drop the w?"
"And make it Littleton? Well, why not? I rather like that! It seems impersonal; it explains nothing."
"Except its smallness," laughed the lawyer, "and that would be apparent anyhow, I suppose."
She laughed with him.
"I'm afraid so. Yes, I believe it will do. Littleton! It really suits me."
"There! Didn't I tell you? I've named your model town already; I shall be galloping side by side with you before you know it. Off with you now, hobby and all!"
But she passed out smiling and satisfied. When Mr. Barrington took that tone she knew he was the old friend again, and not the legal adviser; and much as she respected the lawyer, she far preferred the friend, to-day.
CHAPTER II.
OLD FRIENDS.
Miss Lavillotte descended in the elevator and hurried out to her waiting brougham, and stopped an instant with her foot on the step, to turn a kindly, inquiring gaze upon the elderly coachman, who held the door open before her. An amused twinkle grew in his honest eyes as he gravely responded to the glance with the words, "No, Miss Joyce, I'm not tired nor cold--where next?"
"If you are certain, Gilbert; but it was a good while, and"--"It's mild and pleasant to-day, Miss Joyce."
"Well, it's good of you to think so. Then drive to the Bonnivels, and I won't be so long this time."
"Take all the time you want, Miss Joyce."
He gently shut the door upon her and, mounting to the box, drove carefully away through the thronged streets, turning westward and leaving the neighborhood of legal offices to plunge into the somewhat unsavory precincts given over to markets and fruit venders, passing which, he gradually emerged into the less frequented lengths of avenue leading far out into the suburbs. It was a long and not too pleasant drive, but Joyce Lavillotte was too busy with her thoughts to mind, and Gilbert Judson too intent upon the safe guidance of her spirited team to care. The dreamer inside was indeed surprised when he stopped and, glancing out, she saw they had reached their destination.
It was a corner house, frame-built, and of a comfortable, unfashionable aspect, set down in a square which showed its well-kept green even in winter. The lace-hung windows were broad, sunny and many paned, and a gilded cage flashed back the light in one of them. Joyce flung it an eager glance of expectancy and ran