She looked up at him, with something wistful in her blue eyes.

“Sounds nice, Davy!” she said, childishly.  Instantly she saw leap to his face the look he had hidden so many years; she heard a new ring in his voice.

“Ah—­you darling!  You will?  You’ll let me tell them—–?”

“No, no, no!” Half-angry, half-sorry, she put away his embrace.  “I’ll—­Davy, I hate to spoil your Christmas Day—­I don’t know what to say!  I’ll think about it!”

“And tell me—­it’s noon now—–­” He took out his watch.

“Oh, David, you make me feel as if I were catching a train!”

“And so you are, the Matrimonial Limited!” He would have his kiss, but only caught it where the bright hair mingled with the dark fur of her cap.  Then she turned to go home, forbidding the topic imperatively, meeting every buoyant hint with a suddenly serious warning.  Her heart was lead within her.

“I suppose there’s no help for it,” she thought, in a panic.  “Linda’ll see—­it’ll all be out in five seconds!”

But Linda met them at the door, full of an announcement.

“Harriet, Mr. Carter is here!”

“Mr.—­Who?”

Back came the tide with a great rush, nothing else mattered.  For a moment Harriet was turned to stone.  Then in a dream of radiance and delight she went into the little parlour, and Richard Carter stood up to greet her, and there was nobody else in the world.  Linda had introduced herself; David was introduced.  Harriet glanced about helplessly; he had not come here to say “Merry Christmas,” surely.

“I suggested that Hansen take the little people for a five-minutes’ drive,” he explained, “and then I shall have to hurry back.  I wanted to speak to you on a matter of business, Miss Field.  I wonder—­since you’re well wrapped—­if we might walk to the corner and meet them; I’ll only steal you from your family for five minutes.”

“Certainly!” Harriet’s heart was singing.  The voice, the pleasantly certain manner, the firm, kind mouth—­she drank in a fresh impression as if she had been starving!  She was hardly conscious of what he said; it was enough that he had sought her out, that she was to have one more word with him.

“I came here to discuss my own plans, Miss Field,” he said at the gate, “but a hint from your sister has made me fear that perhaps I am too late.  She tells me that you may be making plans of your own.”

“David?” Harriet said, resentfully.  “I have no plans with David!” she said, simply.

“I didn’t know,” Richard answered.  “I came to ask you to come back.  Things are in an absolute mess with us.  We have not had a serene moment since you left us—­three weeks ago.”

To go back—­back to Crownlands!  Harriet’s spirit soared.  She had been strong enough to leave, to leave Nina’s young impertinence, and Madame Carter’s coldness, but she knew she must go back!  She had only despaired of their ever needing her again.  Every fibre of her being strained toward the old life.