And Joan had done her best. Mittie seldom
gave any thought to the matter.
In a general way, Joan would at once have agreed that Mittie should be
the one to go, that she herself would be the one to stay behind.
But this was no ordinary case. In the summer before she had seen a good
deal of Fred Ferris. He had been at home for three months after an
accident, which, for the time, disabled him from work; and he had been
unmistakably attracted by Joan. Not only had he made many an opportunity
to see her, but his mother had taken pains to bring the two together.
She liked Joan, and made no secret of the fact. Mittie had often been
left out of these arrangements, and had resented it.
For a good while Fred Ferris had been away from home; but Joan knew that
he was likely to come soon, and she built upon the hope. She had given
her heart to Fred, and she indulged in many a secret dream for the
future while pursuing her little round of daily duties, and bearing
patiently with the spoilt and wayward Mittie.
And now--this had come!--this intimation of Fred's arrival, and the
chance of a long delightful day with him--a day on which so much might
hang!
And yet, if Mittie insisted on going, it would probably mean that she
would have to give it up. That would be hard to bear--all the harder
because Mittie knew at least something of the true state of affairs. She
knew how persistently Fred Ferris had come after her sister, and she
must at least conjecture a little of what her sister felt for Fred.
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