In some vague way Patricia felt that she was educating Joan, not weakening her foundations; but gradually Joan succumbed to the philosophy of snatch-and-fly, and the Brier Bush gave ample opportunity for her to practise it.

From the first she was a success.  In her loose, flowing robe of white—­Patricia had wrought that with inspiration—­she was a witching figure.  The filmy veil over the lower part of her face did but emphasize the beauty and size of her golden eyes.  The lovely bronze hair was coiled gracefully around the little head, and after a week or so the gravity with which she read palms gave the play a real touch of interest.

People dropped in, sipped tea, and paid well to play with the pretty disguised young creature who was “guessing so cleverly.”  They departed and sent, or brought, others.  The Brier Bush became popular and successful; Elspeth Gordon secured for it a most respectable standing.

“Why, Miss Gordon is the granddaughter of a bishop!” it was whispered, “and take my word for it that little priestess there with her is either a professional, finding the game lucrative, or a society girl out on a lark behind a screen.”

Most people believed the latter conjecture was true and then the Brier Bush became fashionable.

Joan reaped what seemed to her a harvest, for Elspeth was as just as she was canny.

“After a year,” Joan promised Sylvia, “I will begin to study music seriously.  Why, I have decided to specialize, Syl—­English and Scotch ballads”; and then off she rippled on her “Dog-star”—­the song was a favourite in the studio; so was the Bubble Dance.

* * * * *

And about this time Joan’s letters to Ridge House made the hearts there lighter.

“A job!” Nancy repeated, reading the announcement of Joan’s success.

“I thought only workingmen had jobs.  And in a restaurant, too!  Aunt Dorrie, I don’t think you ought to let Joan do such things.”

“Joan is earning her living,” Doris said, calmly, though her heart beat quicker.  “These fad things are often successes, financially, and I can trust Joan perfectly.”

Christmas was a disappointment.

“I cannot leave this year, Aunt Dorrie,” Joan wrote; “this is our busy time.  Next year I will be free and studying music.”

Doctor Martin was to have been back from the West, but was detained, so Nancy and Doris again helped Father Noble with his hill people, and Mary came over to Ridge House and decorated the rooms to surprise them when they came back from the longest trip of all.

Doris had discarded, largely, her couch.  With her inward anxiety about Joan to be controlled, she was more at ease in action and it was good for her.

Nancy’s devotion was taken for granted, as was her happiness.  What more could Nancy want?

It was Mary who resented this.

“’Tain’t fair!” she muttered as she went about her self-imposed tasks, “’tain’t fair.”  And scowlingly Mary still bided her time.