"Clarence seems to think so," said John dryly, and Joy turned her head to look at him more closely in the moonlight. "And now Clarence! Little Philip Harrington does, too, and I suppose you'll be telling me to have him stop next!" But at the scorn in her voice John only became firmer. "Gail Maddox is entirely different," he explained. It seemed to Joy that if he had offered her that explanation once he had a hundred times. "Gail is not different," said Joy firmly. "Anyway, Tiddy is just a baby." John could not help laughing. "He's not the only one who is just a baby," he said. "You little goose, he's three or four years older than you ... and heaven knows how much younger than I am." The thought of that, for some strange reason, worked a change in his mind. "Never mind me, little girl. I suppose I'm unreasonable." "Well, yes, I think you are," said Joy honestly. Then she laughed. It was very comfortable to have John jealous, even if it _was_ silly of him. "All right, John, hereafter I will wear a wire cage whenever I have any scenes with Tiddy." "Better wear it when you have scenes with Clarence," said John rather sharply. "And let me tell you, a man that will try to steal----" "Oh, nonsense!" said Joy calmly again. "First you say that Clarence is toying with me, then you say he's trying to steal me. Now it stands to reason he can't do both." She was so practical about it that John stopped in spite of himself. "I'm afraid I'm too much given to thinking people want to steal you," he said a little soberly. Joy wondered for the thousandth time about the nature of men.... Sometimes she almost thought she had made John care a good deal for her. And then again, when he rose up and defended Gail, she quite thought she hadn't. But as for Clarence, all that was very foolish. From the time she had seen him every one in the village who had come near her, it seemed to her, had carefully made it plain that Clarence was a male flirt, a love pirate, a gay deceiver, a trifler, a person with no intentions--anything but a man who was in love with her. He had practically said so himself, as far as she could remember. And she had been very pleased with the idea, and enjoyed his behavior--happy in the belief that everything he said had a stout string to it--very much. Even John admitted that he was amusing, and certainly he was good-looking and clever. But she smiled up at John. "It is very nice of you to feel that way," she said. "I appreciate it." "You annoying little person!" he replied, half-laughing. "Joy, if I hadn't learned that you were one of the most honest, straightforward girls in the world, sometimes I would think you were a good deal of a coquette." "We're here," said Joy irrelevantly for an answer. She still wished she knew more about men.