A few days later she was able to remark to her family that she had been invited to visit her schoolmate, Betty Desmond, at the Desmond country place near Philadelphia. "The people you spent the Christmas holidays with in Washington? A fine old Irish name," commented the Major, who made something of a specialty of names. "I have not the pleasure of their acquaintance, but I am sure the good Sisters would not have permitted you to visit them if they had not been--ah! desirable acquaintances." "They are quite rich, if that is what you mean," said his daughter bluntly. Her manner to her father had latterly undergone a change which was not altogether nice. The Major's eyebrows shot up in pained surprise. "Joan! That is certainly irrelevant, not to say--" "And there's an eligible young man in the family," continued the girl imperturbably. He stared at her, speechless. "My child!" he exclaimed after a moment. "One would suppose you were actually--" "Hunting for a husband? I am," she finished. "What else did you expect me to do?" A burst of laughter from Effie May relieved the situation. "Of course she's hunting for a husband! All girls are, unless they're lookin' for trouble. Good for you, dearie! You'll land him, too, I'll bet my hat. Men? Lord," she cried, "they're as easy as fallin' off a log, once you get the hang of 'em!" But the Major continued to gaze at his daughter incredulously. "To think," he murmured, "that I should live to hear _my daughter_ speak in such a manner!" It was evidently not the idea which shocked him, so much as the indelicate expression of it. Joan rose suddenly and left the table. Effie May came to her afterwards, intent on comforting. "There, there, girlie, you mustn't mind what your papa says; he's just a man. Besides, he's so genteel in his instincts he's hardly human. Your mamma would have understood, just like I do. _She_ wouldn't of thought you'd said anything unrefined!" "Thank you," muttered Joan bitterly. "Why, it's the most natural thing in the world that a girl wants a house of her own, and a man of her own, and so forth! Only most of 'em ain't honest enough to come out flat and say so.... I'm for you, dearie. You're to have the trip, of course, and anything else you want, just let me know. As if I was really your mother--I mean it!" "Thank you," said Joan again. It was not the first time she had been disconcerted to find the enemy fighting her battles. What is to be done with an enemy which will not keep its proper place? Effie May concerned herself in the preparations for departure with a whole-hearted generosity which occasioned Joan some secret pangs of remorse. As a step-relative she knew that she herself had left much to be desired. In vain the girl protested that she had already too many clothes, too much finery.