A somewhat ominous
silence greeted the girl, a silence which her father was the first to
break.
"Ayte your food, my lass, an' then come in the garden 'long with me," he
said. "I do want a word with 'e, an' things must be said which I've put off
the sayin' of tu long. So be quick's you can."
But this sauce did not spoil the girl's enjoyment of her porridge and
treacle. She ate heartily, and her happy humor seemed catching, at least so
far as Tom was concerned. A bright color warmed Joan's cheek; the cloud
that had dimmed her eyes was there no longer; and more than once Mr.
Tregenza looked at his wife inquiringly, for the tale she had been telling
of Joan's recent moods and disorder was at variance with her present
spirits and appetite. After breakfast she went to her room while her father
waited; and then it was that Joan snatched a moment to open John Barron's
letter. There would be no time to read it then, she knew: that delicious
task must take many hours of loving labor; but she wanted to count the
pages and see "Mister Jan's" name at the end. She knew that crosses meant
kisses, too. There might be crosses somewhere. So she opened the envelope
in a fever of joyous excitement, being careful, however, not to tear a
letter of the superscription. And from it there came a fat, folded pile of
tissue paper. Joan knew it was money, and flung it on her bed and fumbled
with sinking heart for something better.
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