“Whenever they’re ready, they’re going to dine with me!” she said, patting Harriet’s hand with real affection and understanding.  The arrival of a group from the tennis court, Nina, Ida, Ward, Francesca Jay, and their friends, changed the subject immediately, the old lady was distracted, and Harriet busy.  But Mary was free to reflect.  She had the eyes of a contented woman, freed from her own problem for those of others.  “And Harriet is certainly mad about Richard,” Mary mused.

But with the rest of the world she had to decide that there was something in the affair that she did not understand.

When everyone else had gone from the terrace, and the late afternoon light was throwing clear shadows across the warm red bricks, Nina and Ida Tabor remained, talking.  Nina had seated herself on the arm of her friend’s chair, and was chattering away in happy ignorance of the fact that the older woman was seething within.  Nina saw no reason for jealousy because Harriet had just had an hour’s petting from everyone, had dominated the scene in her striped blue muslin, had finally sauntered to the house between no more important persons than Granny and Ward.

But to Ida it was insufferable, and she could only revenge herself upon her innocent admirer.

“And now we positively must go in, Nina!” she said.  “We’ve wasted this whole afternoon!” And she added, of the embracing arm:  “Don’t!  It’s too hot.”

“Is playing tennis and talking with me wasting an afternoon, Ladybird?” Nina asked, archly.

“You know I don’t mean that!” Mrs. Tabor said, impatiently, if fondly, freeing herself.  “But I have to get packed if I’m going to the Jays’!”

“But you’re not going to the Jays’!” Nina said in soft, sweet, confident reminder.

“But I must, darling!”

“Not if I ask you not to!” Nina persisted.

“Truly I must,” Mrs. Tabor said, wearily.

“No, you mustn’t!”

“But, dearest, I truly have to—–­”

“But, Ladybird,” Nina laughed, happily, “I sent them a message this afternoon that you were staying with me!  So now,” she finished, triumphantly, “that’s settled!  And we’ll go to bed early, with books, and talk, and maybe creep down for something to eat about eleven, as we did that other night—­”

“Nina,” Mrs. Tabor said, in a new voice, interrupting her, “you didn’t telephone Mrs. Jay, did you?”

“Indeed I did!” Nina was still smiling over the thought of her midnight raid on the pantry with a flattering and laughing and girlish Ladybird, a Ladybird who had simply “never gotten over” that chance encounter with Father in the upper hall, and who had talked of it, and of their slippered feet and kimonos, through hours of delicious giggling and embarrassment.

“Well, then, you were extremely impertinent and officious,” said a new voice, that Nina hardly recognized.