Joyces Investments | Page 5

"Yes, I mean to, God helping me. I have just come from a stormy
interview with dear old Mr. Barrington, but I have won him over at last.
Yet, it is you, mother, who will do it all, for I shall simply carry out
your plans and----"
"My plans? what, Joyce! I have never----"
"Oh no, because you had not the means, so what was the use? But all
the same it is you. Didn't you supply all the ideas, all the longings and
the foresight? Every bit of it is what you have instilled into me from
babyhood."
"They are your own dreams--yours and Leon's. Now let us make them
reality. But where did Dorette go, and where is Camille? I want you all
to hear--and good Larry, too."
"Then stay the day with us, dear. Larrimer will not be home till evening,
and there is so much to talk about."
"Shall I? Oh, how blissful to think I can! I will go out and send Gilbert
home, then. He has waited for me so patiently all the morning. Dear
Mother Bonnivel, is it wicked that I can't be sad and regretful, but that
the freedom is so sweet--so sweet?"
"It is natural at least, my love. Go and dismiss Gilbert until to-morrow
morning. It will be too late for your long ride home after our seven
o'clock dinner. Then hurry back. I begrudge every minute you are
gone."
Joyce sped gaily away, and returned minus her hat and furs.
"I left them in the hall," she explained, as Dorette looked up
questioningly, having just re-entered. "Are you glad I'm to stay, Dodo?
Do give me some sewing now, Dorey, just in the old way. Is there

nothing to do for baby?"
"Nothing! Indeed you'd think there was something, to see the way she
goes through her clothing. She's a perfect terror, Joyce! Well, take this
bit of a yoke--can you hemstitch as neatly as ever?"
"Try me; I don't know. Ellen does everything now."
"You have a maid?"
"Oh yes, I could not live alone. But Ellen is scarcely that. She is too
staid, too old and respectable. She is my companion, rather."
"And you are still in that great hotel?"
"Yes, our rooms were taken for a year, and the time is not up for some
months yet, so it seemed best. And we are quite independent there. We
live as quietly in our suite of rooms as if we were in a separate flat. And
our places at table are reserved in a far corner of the great salon, so that
by timing ourselves we avoid the crowd, and we do not become
conspicuous."
"Yes, I understand. One can live much as one elects to anywhere," said
Madame Bonnivel, caressing little Dodo as the child leaned against her.
"I don't know," laughed Joyce. "There have been times when we didn't
think so--did we, Dorette? Oh, it is so good--so good to be here!"
Over their needle-work the talk ran on, largely reminiscent in character,
and mostly in a joyous strain. The young matron, Mrs. Larrimer
Driscoll, was evidently no ready talker, but her interest was so vivid
that she was a constant incitement to Joyce, who seemed to have
broken bounds, and was by turns grave and gay, imperious and
pleading in a succession of moods as natural as a child's and almost as
little controlled. Presently she who has been referred to as Dodo's
auntie, Miss Camille Bonnivel, entered and, after one swift look at the
guest, who stood smilingly awaiting the outbreak of her astonishment,
threw up both hands and flew across the room.

"Joyce!" she cried, "Joyce Lavillotte! So the proud heiress of a hundred
acres--mostly marsh-land, but no matter!--has condescended to our low
estate. Shall I go down on one knee, or two?"
"On four, if you have them, you gypsy! Come, kiss me and stop this
nonsense. Dear! How you have grown, you tiny thing. You must be
nearly to my elbows by this."
"Elbows! I'm well on towards five feet, I'll let you know. But you are
superb, Joyce--'divinely tall and most divinely fair'; isn't that it? Come,
stoop to me."
They kissed heartily, the dark little creature standing on tiptoe, while
Joyce bent her head low, then Dodo claimed attention from "Cammy,"
and amid bursts of laughter and sometimes a rush of sudden tears, the
talk flowed on, as it can only flow when dearest friends meet after long
separation, with no estrangement and no doubts to dim the charms of
renewed intercourse.
CHAPTER III.
JOYCE'S INTERESTS.
Joyce had not exaggerated when she spoke of the settlement about the
Works as a desolate, unpicturesque, uninviting spot, and Camille had
skirted the truth, at least, when she referred to the inherited acres