alive in the old house, she ran down the staircases, past the
statues that stood severely in the niches at the head of each
flight, down finally to the basement dining-room where the three old
people, her grandfather and grandmother and old Elizabeth, were
waiting for her.

They sat at either end of the old mahogany table--that had been
Lucilla Havenith's, too--with supper, plus the sandwiches left over
from the tea, waiting untouched till Joy should come. By the way all
three stopped short when she came in, Joy was sure they had been
wondering what was the matter with her. She sank into her own chair,
and took one of the walnut sandwiches which had been spared by the
reception people. She was still hungry, and proceeded to eat it, at
which Mrs. and Mr. Havenith looked happier.

"You see, Alton, she has an appetite," said Grandmother thankfully.

"Yes, I am glad to see she has," answered Grandfather, as if the
circumstance was gratifying to him also. "I am very much relieved."

Joy felt guilty. When your grandparents were as fond as all that of
you, you really hadn't any right to feel as if you wanted anything
else. She straightened up and smiled gallantly at them, and took
another sandwich by way of proving her health.

"I think I'm all right," she said.

"You were overtired," said Grandmother solicitously--Grandmother,
who had cut all the sandwiches, which Joy had only buttered! "The
day's been oppressive."