Harriet was through with her housekeeping and her luncheon, and meditating a letter to Linda, when Ida Tabor fluttered in.  Harriet heard the gay voice at the foot of the stairs:  “Oh, sweetheart!  Where’s my little girl?”

Mrs. Tabor looked a trifle dashed when only Harriet responded, although she immediately assured Miss Field cordially with bright insincerity that she had known of her return, and was “so glad!”

“I’ve been a sort of big sister here,” she said, laughingly, “and, my Lord, these kids have managed things wonderfully!  But I suppose sooner or later the machinery would have stalled without your fine Italian hand!”

“Mr. Carter asked me to come back,” Harriet stated, simply.  She thought the truth her best weapon, but Mrs. Tabor was ready for her.

“Mary Putnam told us that you were just resting and looking about,” she said, innocently, “and Dick—­generous that he is!—­ couldn’t feel comfortably about it, I suppose!  Well, I wanted to see Nina—?”

Harriet explained Nina’s absence, and Mrs. Tabor pouted.

“I’d have stopped there,” she said.  “I’m on my way to the Fordyces’; they have a regular New Year’s party, you know—­”

This was deliberate, Harriet knew.  Ida Tabor had not always been admitted to the Fordyces’ sacred portals.

“Blondin and I are getting it up,” she further elucidated, “I want Nina in it, and Ward, too.  Blondin is lending us the most gorgeous tapestries and things you ever saw!”

Harriet was not concerned for Nina’s plans after today; for Richard had telephoned her at three o’clock that the morning papers would have “the news,” and that he was coming home to tell his children of their mother’s death, to-night.  But she must get rid of this woman now, somehow.  It would be fatal to have Ida Tabor here when Richard Carter returned.  Her time was short, Harriet thought anxiously, for at any minute now the young people might stream back for tea.

“I might run up now and see the old lady!” said Mrs. Tabor who had flung off her furs, and beautified herself at her hand-bag mirror.  “I don’t really have to get to the Fordyces’ until just before dinner—­really not then, if Nina wanted me!” She pressed her lips together for the red colouring.  “Mr. Carter be here to-night?” she asked, casually.

Bottomley caused an interruption.  Harriet turned to him with relief.  But unfortunately he answered the very question she was trying to evade.

“Mr. Carter had just telephoned, ’m, and says that he’ll be ’ere at about six, ’m!”

“Oh, thank you, Bottomley!” Harriet turned back to Ida, to see her complacently loosening outer wraps.

“I came in the Warrens’ car,” said she, “they were to run over and say Merry Christmas to the Bellamys, and then pick me up.  But—­if I won’t be in the way!—­perhaps I might stay and see Nina; we’ve become great chums.  I suppose I’d better go to the room I always have?  Then I’ll run up and get the latest news of the Battle of Shiloh from Madame Carter!”