She thought Vermont looked cold and stupid, however, and didn't remember having noticed much about the mountains, for which Gypsy thought she should never forgive her.
But there was at least one thing Gypsy found out that evening to like about Joy.

She loved her father dearly.

One could not help noticing how restless she was while he was out of the room, and how she watched the door for him to come back; how, when he did come, she stole away from her aunt and sat down by him, slipping her hand softly into his.

As he had been all her life the most indulgent and patient of fathers, and was going, early to-morrow morning, thousands of miles away from her into thousands of unknown dangers, it was no wonder.
While it was still quite early, Joy proposed going to bed.

She was tired, and besides, she wanted to unpack a few of her things.