in town, Harriet? If we're going to have him here--"

She glanced at herself in the glass, where a more primitive woman,
in a jungle, would have commenced a slow, solitary dance and song.
If the hint of a scornful smile touched the secretary's beautiful
mouth, she suppressed it. She had a little notebook in her pocket,
and in it she duly entered the name of Royal Blondin.

"Too much rouge on this side, Mother," said Ward. Mrs. Carter
picked up a hand-mirror, and studied herself carefully. When she
had powdered and rubbed one cheek, she thoughtfully rouged her
lips again, pouting them artfully, while Harriet and the children
chattered. Nina was full of excited anticipation. Francesca's tea
to-morrow, and the box-party on Friday, and a new gown for each-
Nina fancied herself already a popular and lovely debutante.
Harriet imagined that she saw something of a brother's pity in
Ward's eyes as he watched her. Ward himself looked his best in his
evening black, and several years older than he really was.

"We're a handsome couple, Miss Harriet," said Ward, with a glance
toward the door of solid mirror that chanced to reflect them both.
"Aren't we, Mother?"

"You're an idiot!" said Nina, scornfully. Harriet laughed
maternally, but in spite of herself her idle dream of the
afternoon returned for a second, and she wondered just how that
faintly supercilious smile of Isabelle's would be affected if she
had her own right, here in this family group, a Carter of the
Carters, daughter of the house. And thinking this, her smoky blue
eyes met Ward's, and perhaps there was something in them that he