Yet he
spoke a name forcibly enough, still gazing earnestly at Gracie.
"Did you ever meet Miss Joy Saunders?"
Gracie turned toward him a laughing face.
"No, but we are very anxious to, Flossy and I. We have both been told
that we ought to know her, and told so earnestly that we really think
we ought. Who is she? Is she, too, unlike anybody else?"
"Very," he said, promptly. "I know her very little; she is the daughter
of our landlady; I meet her in the hall on rare occasions, and sometimes
catch glimpses of her just vanishing from some room as I enter; but as
for being acquainted with her, I suppose I am not. I think--though of
that I am by no means sure--that she is engaged to Dr. Everett.
"Oh, then, of course he would think naturally that people ought to know
her. What is she like?"
"Like nothing," said Alfred, with great promptness. "Did you ever know a
person named Joy?"
"No;--what a singular name."
"Well, it fits. She is very far removed from mirth, and she is not what
people call gay, and she is not outspoken apparently at any time,
though, as I say, I do not know her; but there is something in her face
that fits the name; I do not know what it is. Sometimes I think it is
the shining of Christ's face reflected in her; but the puzzle is, why do
not other faces have it? Faces which belong to him?"
"Perhaps there is a difference in the degree of belonging.
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