John came swiftly over to where she sat on the floor, very still, with her hands flying, and her eyes on her work. "Why, Joy dear, this is a lovely thing that I didn't expect," he said gently. "Welcome--home!" He smiled down at her and held out his hands to help her up. Quite unsuspectingly, she pushed her work into the pocket along the hem of her sewing-apron and laid her hands in his, and he drew her easily to her feet. But, instead of releasing her then, he drew her closer--and kissed her, quite as calmly as he had his mother a moment before.... No, not quite as calmly. Joy felt his arms close around her, as if he was glad to have her in his hold. "Let me go," she said in too low a voice for Mrs. Hewitt to hear. "Who has drawn the wine must drink it," he told her in the same low voice. He went on, still softly, but more seriously, "My child, this sort of thing is necessary, if you want Mother to be satisfied while you are here. It's--a courtesy to your hostess. I promise to do no more of it than is necessary, as it seems to trouble you so. But--don't you see?" He released her, and she stepped away. "I--see," she answered him a little uncertainly. "Th--thank you.... I--I couldn't help coming, John." Then she fled upstairs to dress for dinner. She puzzled all the time she was dressing. There was no use talking--his mother _needn't_ be amused by such things. She would get on perfectly well without seeing them. John might think he was doing it as a sacred duty--in spite of her adoration of him it did not impress Joy that way.... There were men who kissed you just because you were a girl, if you let them; Clarence was that kind, according to all accounts. But--John! He was the best, kindest, noblest man she had ever known. Every one seemed to have the same feelings about him that she had. Even when Clarence had sneered at him he had only been able to call him a "reliable citizen."... And yet--he seemed to want to kiss her! He liked it. "Of course," said Joy to herself, with a beating heart beneath the wisdom of Aunt Lucilla, "the answer is that he probably doesn't know it. Men don't ever seem to know things about themselves. But I must remember that it's no sign he likes _me._" But it was quite true that it was going to have to continue. It had dawned on Joy that her will was no match for that of the Hewitt family. But it was a very kindly will. She smiled a little, irrepressibly, as she clasped her girdle--she was wearing one of the old picture dresses--and went downstairs. For even if you are a little impostor who has captured a five-weeks' lover by means of a wishing ring, unlimited things to wear are nice, and having the man you are in love with want to pet you is nice, too! At the top of the stairs a thought struck her. Joy's thoughts had a way of arriving suddenly. She had set out to be happy. Very well!