Mrs. Gwyn.  I feel as if I were being smothered here.

Lever.  It ’s only for one day.

Mrs. Gwyn. [With sudden tenderness.] It’s not your fault, dear.  I ought to have known how it would be.  Well, let’s go in!

[She sets her lips, and walks towards the house with lever following.  But no sooner has she disappeared than joy comes running after; she stops, as though throwing down a challenge.  Her cheeks and ears are burning.]

Joy.  Mother!

     [After a moment Mrs. Gwyn reappears in the opening of the wall.]

Mrs. Gwyn.  Oh! here you are!

Joy. [Breathlessly.] Yes.

Mrs. Gwyn. [Uncertainly.] Where—­have you been?  You look dreadfully hot; have you been running?

Joy.  Yes——­no.

Mrs. Gwyn. [Looking at her fixedly.] What’s the matter—­you ’re trembling! [Softly.] Are n’t you well, dear?

Joy.  Yes—­I don’t know.

Mrs. Gwyn.  What is it, darling?

Joy. [Suddenly clinging to her.] Oh!  Mother!

Mrs. Gwyn.  I don’t understand.

Joy. [Breathlessly.] Oh, Mother, let me go back home with you now at once——­ Mrs. Gwyn. [Her face hardening.] Why?  What on earth——­

Joy.  I can’t stay here.

Mrs. Gwyn.  But why?

Joy.  I want to be with you—­Oh!  Mother, don’t you love me?

Mrs. Gwyn. [With a faint smile.] Of course I love you, Joy.

Joy.  Ah! but you love him more.

Mrs. Gwyn.  Love him—­whom?

Joy.  Oh!  Mother, I did n’t—­[She tries to take her Mother’s hand, but fails.] Oh! don’t.

Mrs. Gwyn.  You’d better explain what you mean, I think.

Joy.  I want to get you to—­he—­he ’s—­he ’snot——!

Mrs. Gwyn. [Frigidly.] Really, Joy!

Joy. [Passionately.] I’ll fight against him, and I know there’s something wrong about——­

     [She stops.]

Mrs. Gwyn.  About what?

Joy.  Let’s tell Uncle Tom, Mother, and go away.

Mrs. Gwyn.  Tell Uncle—­Tom—­what?

Joy. [Looking down and almost whispering.] About—­about—­the mine.

Mrs. Gwyn.  What about the mine?  What do you mean? [Fiercely.]
Have you been spying on me?

Joy. [Shrinking.] No! oh, no!

Mrs. Gwyn.  Where were you?

Joy. [Just above her breath.] I—­I heard something.

Mrs. Gwyn. [Bitterly.] But you were not spying?

Joy.  I was n’t—­I wasn’t!  I didn’t want—­to hear.  I only heard a little.  I couldn’t help listening, Mother.