Things were _not_ right. That was the overpowering conviction that grew apace. If she knew all--all what? Well, if she insisted upon knowing all--what would happen? She caught her breath sharply, and frantically turned to bodily toil in order to down the spectre which now confronted her with brazen insistence. Things must go on as before. Ralph Drew was nothing but a boy--what were his opinions compared to Gaston's? Gaston could do no wrong. She was content to abide by his decree. She sang, and turned from one task to another with determined haste. At one moment she vowed the subject should never be thought of again; the next, she promised herself that she would put the whole matter before Gaston as soon as he returned, and, by so doing, prove the unimportance of the thing. But whichever way she looked at it, she hourly grew to dread Gaston's return. Life was never going to be the same. Something was going to happen! Oh, she had often had these premonitions before. Gaston laughed at them, and called her funny names when she voiced them to him. Three days and nights dragged on, after that visit to Drew, before Gaston came back. The house had been cleaned and recleaned until it shone. The fire was kept brilliant, and Joyce donned, in turn, every pretty bit of adornment that she owned. She decked the pictures with ground-pine, and, in the act of preparing the dishes for supper that Gaston liked best, he found her. "Hello, little girl," he called cheerily; "it look like Christmas. It's lucky I have some presents in my pack. I believe you fixed up to catch me, and make me feel like a tight-wad. But I'm one to the good. Don't peek. After supper we'll have a lark. Have you a kiss by way of welcome?" Joyce turned from the lamp she was lighting, and put both her hands on his shoulders. "Oh, but it's good to have you back!" she said, and raised her lips to his. This fond response to him was the greatest recompense the change in their lives had brought to Gaston. It warmed the lonely places of his heart. It was a jovial meal that followed. Gaston was hungry, the food was excellent, and Joyce glowed and beamed in the atmosphere of regained trust. It was, though, a fleeting peace. When the dishes were removed, Gaston noticed how tired she looked. "Happy?" he asked, with a laugh. "Perfectly." Joyce was filling his pipe. "Perfectly _nothing!_" he exclaimed, drawing her down to the arm of his chair. "Now own up, my lady, what have you been doing?" Gaston expected a rehearsal of daily tasks, more energetically performed, perhaps, than was necessary. "I went to see Mr. Drew." The smile fled from Gaston's face. So it was not housework! "How is the young D. D.?" "He looks very ill, but they say he is getting better." "Did you have a pleasant call?" Gaston was unreasonably annoyed, but he was curious also.