For the remaining days at the mountain inn there was little excitement. Joy kept close to Phyllis or her grandmother, and John enjoyed himself in what struck the Harringtons as being rather too much his usual way. It seemed to them that a little scheming to see Joy alone would have been more appropriate. But neither Phyllis nor Allan were given to being relentlessly tactful, or planning situations for people. They reasoned that if the others really wanted _tête-à-têtes_ they could manage them without help; and doubtless would, once they were in the country. So peace and unruffledness reigned in a way that was most surprising, considering the real facts of the case. They continued, even in Joy's mind, till almost the last minute, when she stood on the platform of the resort station with Phyllis, Allan, John, the children, Viola, and the bulldog, awaiting their train. Philip was having to be cheered and distracted: his tender heart was nearly broken over the fact that his beloved Foxy had to travel in the baggage-car, when he would have been so much happier in the bosom of his family. Philip could not be restrained from pleading the dog's cause at length with a fatherly baggageman whose heart he had quite won in four minutes. "He has a green-plush chair at home that he _always_ sits in, and nobody takes it away from him, not even company," he explained earnestly. "He isn't used to baggage-cars--truly he isn't. He's a wonderful-mannered dog. And father says that if he lived up to his pedigree he wouldn't 'sociate wiv _any_ of us. You can _see_ he doesn't belong in a baggage-car!" The baggageman, melted by Philip's ardent pleadings, was yielding to the extent of letting Foxy's family sit with him in relays and cheer him as much as they liked, when Grandmother dropped her bombshell. At least, that was what John called it when they talked it over afterwards. Joy always spoke of it as "the time Grandmother said the awful thing." "Good-by, my little girl," she said. "I know Grace Carpenter's boy can't but be good to you. And, darling--she asked me to keep it for a surprise--I only heard this morning--but I know surprises aren't always pleasant--and you're so young, you need to be prepared. Grace wrote me she was greatly surprised by the news, though I'm sure she needn't have expected to be told if we weren't--but she was very sweet about it, and is giving a dance to all the nice people in Wallraven for you. It's set for the evening after you get there. She tells me she has arranged the invitations already, in a way that makes the short notice seem all right. Grace was always so ingenious.... Oh, there's the train--good-by, darling! Be a good girl!" Joy was aghast. "_Grandmother!_" she began. "Oh, Grandmother. I have to tell you! ... I--oh, John, tell her! I can't go! I--" She turned to Hewitt despairingly. But he had not been listening: he had been watching the argument between Philip and the baggageman.