She stood there alone, her hands clasped hard, her head up--to all appearance a vivid, triumphant little figure. Her heart was beating like mad and her cheeks burnt. She had just found out something about herself, something that a wiser, older woman would have known a long time ago: as long ago as when the Wishing Ring Man stood, the light glinting on his fair hair and sturdy shoulders, in the opening of Grandfather's hall door. She was in love with John--furiously, wildly, heart-breakingly in love with him. And she was going to have to live close by him for a month, knowing that, and keeping him from knowing it--and then go away from him and never see him any more. "This is our dance, Sorcerette," said Clarence's voice in her ear. CHAPTER EIGHT A FOUNTAIN IN FAIRYLAND Joy had supposed, when she finally went to sleep at three in the morning, that she would waken with all the excitement gone and feeling very unhappy. She had always heard that it made you unhappy to be in love. Instead, she opened her eyes with the excitement of it all still pulsing through her. The fact that John was in the world and she could care for him seemed almost enough to account for the sense of happiness that possessed her as she pattered over to the window and looked out. And what little more was needed to account for her exhilaration could be found in the wonderful September morning outside. There probably _were_ troubles somewhere or other, such as darkened city parlors, minor poets, and sophisticated seekers after John, but somehow she and they didn't connect. The air was so tingling and sunny, and the garden was so beautiful, and being young and free and in the country was so heavenly that she dressed and ran down, and sang along the garden paths as she picked herself a big bunch of golden chrysanthemums and purple and pink asters. Nobody else, apparently, was stirring yet. Joy was beginning to feel hungry, so she strayed into the dining-room, to see whether by any chance anybody else was down. Phyllis was just coming into the dining-room, with her son frolicking about her. "How do you feel after your triumph last night?" she asked. "Dead; or do you want another party this morning? I was proud of you, Joy. Everybody told me how pretty you were, and how charming, and how intelligent it was of me to be a friend of yours." Joy flushed with genuine pleasure. "Oh, was I--did they?" she asked. "Phyllis, it was _lovely!_ ... And think of being able to dance like that without knowing how! That was just a plain miracle, if you like!" "Good-morning, Joy," said Allan, coming in at this point. He sat down with them and attacked his grapefruit. "I see I'm two laps behind on breakfast. Philip, you young rascal, where's my cherry?" Philip giggled uncontrollably. "Why, Father, you ate it yourself! _You_ ate it while you said good-morning to Joy!"