Nina stood irresolute; too choked with sudden disappointment to risk her voice.  It was all hateful, maddening, horrible!  Those two boys and Amy—­ah, there would be no “fun” now!  She loathed Amy, getting in so briskly, and saying, “Come on, Nina!” She hated Ward, she wished that they were all dead, and herself, too.  It was impossible that she should be carried farther and farther away from him—­after last night and to-day!

The storm came at Good Ground, and they all had to scramble with curtains, “smelly” curtains, Nina called them.  And the dinner was eaten in warm, sticky half-darkness on a hotel porch, with horrible music making a horrible racket, according to the same authority.  Saunders and Amy held hands all the way home, too, and Nina thought it was disgusting; everyone was too tired to talk, they bounced along silently and crossly.

And upon getting home, Miss Harriet came out of the shadows on the porch, looking perfectly exquisite in her new gown, sweetly interested and cheerful.  She said that she was so sorry the dinner was poor, they had had such a nice dinner at home, and that she had had a talk with their father, and they were to go back to Crownlands next week.  Nina did not see Blondin; she heard his voice from the smoking room, but her arrival caused no cessation of the men’s laughter and voices in there, and the only news she had from him that night was from her grandmother, who was in a bad temper, and reported that he and Miss Field had been walking half the afternoon.  Nina, for the first time in her life, cried herself to sleep.

“Never mind, my dear,” said the old lady with terrible insight, “if I ask my son to choose between me and any other woman, I have no doubt of the outcome!”

Harriet had assuredly triumphed, but it was on terms that for more than one reason did not entirely please her.  To affect a confidential intimacy with Royal Blondin was utterly distasteful, and to have poor little Nina sulky and silent far from pleasant.  But most disquieting of all was the immediate result of old Madame Carter’s meddling.

For Richard, finding the pretty secretary prettier than ever in her blue gown, and warmed by a relaxed day at the club and a mood of friendliness, had specifically instructed her that she was to dine with the family on all occasions, and to dress as the others did, and to regard herself as “a member of the family.”  And this, Harriet was quick to realize, really did place her in a peculiar position, made difficult by Richard’s kindly championing no less than his mother’s hostility, by the adoring sympathy of the servants, and the affectionate familiarities of the Carter children.  Richard’s friends took their cue from him, as was natural, and in the first early winter dinner parties at Crownlands Harriet could not but sparkle and lead; she had reached her own level at last.

Perhaps the master of the house but dimly saw the truth of this, but he did see a most charming and pretty woman at the head of his establishment, his daughter and son protected, his affairs capably managed, and such hospitality and entertainment as he felt suitable well handled.  She and Nina shared Isabelle’s old rooms, and Harriet balanced Nina’s first evening gowns with discreet but dignified black.