Harriet paid no further attention to them, and the two developed a splendid case for themselves.  But she went down to find Ward, and took him partially into her confidence.  Would he please be a darling, and see that there was no nonsense?  She could not well cross his grandmother and Nina without his father to back her.  She disliked to call his father at the club and make too much of the whole thing.  Would he promise her that they would be home by ten o’clock, at latest?

Somewhat comforted by Ward’s affectionate loyalty, Harriet went up to dress for the one o’clock luncheon, and while she was dressing a new idea came to her.  For a few minutes she shook her head, stood thinking, with a face of distaste.

“I could do that!” she said, aloud.  And she picked up the gingham dress that she had laid on the bed.

But there was a prettier dress in Harriet’s wardrobe, a gift from Isabelle, that she had never worn.  It was a flowered silk mull, of a soft deep blue that was exactly the colour of Harriet’s eyes, and at the throat and wrists it had frills of transparent lace.  The soft ruffles that made the skirt were cunningly edged with black, and there was a great open pink rose at the belt.

Harriet put on this enchanting garment, and as she did so she felt some half-forgotten power rise strong within her.  There was one trump in her hand that she had never thought to play in a game with Nina Carter, but she was glad to find it now.

She went downstairs, and found Royal Blondin lounging in the billiard room, and idly knocking balls about.  The second thing he said to her was of the gown, the third of her eyes.  Harriet stood beside him, raising the eyes in question, and smiling.  When she turned and went slowly away, Blondin went after her.

At half-past two o’clock the car was at the side door, and Nina and Amy came downstairs with their wraps, and Saunders and Ward ran about laughing and confusing things.  Blondin watched the performance lazily from a basket chair on the porch, but when Nina called him a half-laughing, half-daring, “We’re ready, Mr. Blondin!” he sauntered down to the car with his pleasantest expression, but with the regretful statement that he was not going:  a vicious headache had developed since luncheon.

Whatever the effect on Amy and the young men, to Nina this was a staggering blow.  Harriet felt sorry for her as she saw the girl try to meet it gallantly; she knew that the heart died from Nina’s day there and then.  Nina had triumphed all through luncheon, had laughed and chattered, had made Ward telephone a dinner reservation for five, and had assumed a hundred coquettish airs.  Now all this crumpled, faded away, and Harriet knew, as she stood beside the car looking down at the folded light rug on her arm, that she was ready to cry.

“No, you’ll have a far nicer time without me,” said Royal, throwing away his cigarette, and resting one arm on the car.  “I wouldn’t interfere, because I knew you’d all give it up!  You just all have a perfectly wonderful time, and I’ll be down next week-end and hear about it!”