“If you mean me,” Harriet said, interrupting the smooth, innocent old voice, “I assure you that I do not feel my position here at all false—­” ["She always gets me wild, and gets me talking,” Harriet added to herself, with anger at her own weakness, “but I can’t help it!”] And aloud she finished, “I am Nina’s companion, and in a sense, housekeeper—­”

“Pilgrim is housekeeper,” Mrs. Carter corrected, Miss Pilgrim, a one-time maid, was really Mrs. Bottomley, and had been manager below stairs for a long time.

“There are things Pilgrim cannot do,” Harriet suggested.

“I feel myself the difficulty of explaining your position here!” said the old lady, raising both hands and arms in an elaborate gesture of deprecation, and smiling kindly.  “You put me in a false position, too!”

But Harriet had now reached the point she always did reach, sooner or later, in these talks with Madame Carter, the point of mentally pitying the old lady, and recollection that after all her mischievous tongue could do no real harm.

“You will have to discuss that with Mr. Carter, of course!” It was always ace of trumps, and Harriet only blamed herself for ever beginning a conversation with anything else.  Now she retired from the field with all honours, forcing herself to dismiss the unpleasant memory the instant she was out of reach of Madame Carter’s voice.  But the old lady fumed for an hour, and took up the subject with her son when he came dutifully in to take her down to dinner.

“Ida feels as I do,” she said, when Mrs. Tabor, charming in blue, joined them on the way downstairs.  Richard felt a sensation of anger.  It was poor taste to involve a casual stranger like Ida Tabor in this rather delicate family discussion.  But he thought that the little widow showed excellent sense in her rather slangy fashion.

“Well, of course, she’s filled the bill this summer, Dick, ab-so-loo-tely!  But, let me tell you, that Nina of yours is beginning to take notice, and she won’t need a governess forever!  With you to keep an eye on things generally, Nina will soon be able to manage Dad’s affairs.  I know just how you feel—­never’ll forget how utterly blank I felt when Jack Tabor just quietly packed his trunks and walked out!  Why, I couldn’t get hold of myself for months!”

“Where is Miss Field?” Richard was looking for the demure blue gown and the bright head as they joined the young group downstairs.

“She is not coming down, Richard,” his mother explained.

“Why not?” he asked, abruptly.  His mother gave him a magnificent look, warning, silencing, appealing.

“I’ll explain it to you later, dear!” she said, half-annoyed and half-pleading.  “You may announce dinner, Bottomley!”