For reasons best known to herself, Mrs.Surly shut the window and contented herself with glaring through the glass.
Now, Joy had stood in the doorway and been witness to the scene, and moreover, having been reproved by her aunt for something or other that morning, she felt ill-humored, and very ready to find fault in her turn.
"I think it's just so, anyway," she said.

"_I_ wouldn't be seen playing stick-knife for a good deal." "And I wouldn't be seen telling lies!" retorted Gypsy, sorry for it the minute she had said it.

Then there followed a highly interesting dialogue of about five minutes' length, and of such a character that Tom speedily took his departure.
Now it came about that Gypsy, as usual, was the first ready to "make up," and she turned over plan after plan in her mind, to find something pleasant she could do for Joy.

At last, as the greatest treat she could think of to offer her, she said: "I'll tell you what! Let's go down to Peace Maythorne's.

I do believe I haven't taken you there since you've been in Yorkbury." "Who's Peace Maythorne ?" asked Joy, sulkily.
"Well, she's the person I love just about best of anybody." "Best of anybody!" "Oh, mother, of course, and Tom, and Winnie, and father, and all those.
Relations don't count.