Miss Field had duly come down to preside, and all was well.
Isabelle, as she dropped into a chair, gave a sigh of relief;
everyone was amused and absorbed and happy. Everyone, that is,
except the magnificent and sharp-eyed old lady who sat, regally
throned, near her, and favoured her immediately with a
dissatisfied look. Old Madame Carter had her own good reasons for
being angry, and she never spared any one available from a
participation in her mood.

She was remarkably handsome, even at seventy-five; with a crown of
puffed white hair, gold-rimmed eyeglasses, and an erect and finely
preserved figure. Her silk gown flowed over her knees, and formed
a rich fold about her shining slippers; a wide lace scarf was
about her shoulders, and she wore an old-fashioned watchchain of
heavy braided gold, and a great many handsome pins and rings. Her
voice was theatrically deep and clear, and her manner vigorous and
impressive.

"Well, my dear, your friends were naturally wondering what
important matter kept their hostess away from her guests," she
began. Isabelle had not been her daughter-in-law for more than
twenty years for nothing. She shrugged and smiled carelessly, with
an indifferent glance at the group. Ward's friends, the tennis-
players, and old Doctor and Mrs. Potter and their niece, from next
door. Nobody here of any especial importance!

"Harriet is managing very nicely," Isabelle said, contentedly, as
Tony, with a sombre face and averted eyes, brought her her tea.

"So Ward seems to think," observed Ward's grandmother with