CHAPTER XV

“Lots O’ joy”

The morning was as clear and balmy as a festival day should be, and the cars were at the door of the June Holiday Home at three minutes before nine o’clock.

“Let’s go early,” Juanita Sterling had said, “while the day is fresh from the hand of God.”  And in accordance with her wish Polly had appointed the hour.

Most of the ladies were in Sunday attire, their wardrobes holding few changes between “everyday” and “best.”

Juanita Sterling handled her small stock of apparel so that, plain as it was, it had an air of distinction.  Little deft touches here and there added character and daintiness to any garment that she wore.  Some of the less fortunate realized this as they rode out of the Home gate that July morning, and one or two were actually envious of the little woman who sat in Colonel Gresham’s beautiful car and responded so merrily to the Colonel’s sallies.

“I guess Miss Sterling has ways of getting her nest feathered that some other folks don’t know anything about,” whispered Miss Castlevaine to Miss Major.

“No such thing!” was the prompt retort.  “She knows how to put her feathers on, that’s all.”

“Knowing how don’t change colors as I’ve ever heard—­huh!  Look at that white dress!  They don’t give me white dresses!”

“Probably she had it when she came.  She hasn’t been here a year yet, you know,” replied Miss Major.

“They won’t make over mine,” complained the other.

“Oh!” broke in Mrs. Albright, “look over there!  Isn’t that magnificent?”

Fields and slopes of varying green, wooded hills, and mountains in the blue distance—­these made the picture that had called forth the exclamation.

“Magnificent!” echoed Miss Major.

Miss Castlevaine looked, but said nothing.  The darkness of envy and discontent still dimmed her eyes.

Juanita Sterling, in the car ahead, was yielding herself to the bountiful joy of the moment and had forgotten disagreeable things.  Polly and Colonel Gresham kept up a steady run of pleasantries, much of which came easily to her quick ears, and she found herself smiling with them even while her eyes were feasting on the ever-changing landscape.

“Doesn’t Mrs. Dick live somewhere out this way?” inquired Miss Mullaly.

Miss Sterling did not know and in turn asked the Colonel.

“Tenney, the milk dealer?  His farm is over there to the left a mile or two.  Would you like to call on the bride?”

“Yes, I should!  Wouldn’t you, Polly?”

“First-rate!  Let’s!” was the eager answer.

So at the next cross-road the car was turned that way.

“I’m awfully glad you thought of it!” Polly turned to say.

“I didn’t think of going there,” Miss Mullaly admitted, “but I’d love to.  Won’t she be surprised!”