Nevertheless, she accepted the invitation that came from Bert's
cousin Dorothy, one autumn, for a week-end visit. Dorothy had
married now, and had a baby. She was living in a rented "place,"
up near Rhinecliff, she wrote, and she wanted to see something of
Cousin Bert.

Neither Bert nor Nancy could afterward remember exactly why they
went. It was partly curiosity, perhaps; partly the strong lure
exerted by Dorothy's casual intimation that "the car" would come
for them, and that this particular week-end was "the big dance, at
the club." Bert chanced to have a new suit, and Nancy had a
charming blue taffeta that seemed to her good enough for any place
or anybody.

The boys were asked, but they did not take them. Ned was almost
two now, and Junior past three, and they behaved beautifully with
Hannah, the quiet old Danish woman who had been with them since
they came back from the woods, the year before. Nancy, full of
excited anticipation, packed her suit-case daintily, and fluttered
downstairs as happily as a girl, when a hundredth glance at the
street showed the waiting motor at last.

Hawkes was the chauffeur. "To Mr. Bradley's office please,
Hawkes," said Nancy. She could not think of anything friendly to
say to him, as they wheeled through the streets. Bert kept them
waiting, and once or twice she said "I can't think what's delaying
Mr. Bradley." But Hawkes did not answer.

Presently Bert came out and greeted Nancy and Hawkes.