CHAPTER ONE

JOY IN AMBER SATIN


Joy Havenith had no business at all to be curled up on the back
stairs under Great-Grand-Aunt Lucilla's picture. She ought to have
been sliding sweetly up and down the long double parlors with
teacups and cake, and she knew it. But she just didn't care.

As a matter of fact, Aunt Lucilla and the other ancestors ought to
have been in the parlors, too; but Grandfather had ordained
differently. He had gobbled the parlor walls for his autographed
photograph collection, and Grandmother, long before Joy was born or
orphaned, had sorrowfully hung her ancestors-in-law out in the long,
narrow hall, where they were a tight fit. Grandfather was one of the
last survivors of the old school of American poetry. He was tall and
slender, and very gentle and nice, but he always had things the way
he said he wanted them, and he preferred his autographed friends to
his family portraits.

"It's rather a good thing it's so dark out here, Aunt Lucilla," said
Joy to the smiling Colonial lady in the dark corner above her. "You
mayn't much like being where people can't see you--but think how
you'd feel, up garret!"