Harriet and the Piper | Page 8

Isabelle's circle, and that she was more successful in it than
other women was not at all to her discredit.
Even Harriet, who was in her secrets, who saw maid and masseuse and
hair-dresser in desperate defence of Isabelle's beauty every morning,
who knew just what scenes there were over gowns and cosmetics, and
the tilt of hats--even Harriet admired her.
"Why not?" said Harriet sometimes to her sister, when she went to visit
Linda, and the subject of the beautiful Mrs. Carter was under
discussion. "She has a boy and a girl, her house runs perfectly, her
husband adores her--"
"Oh, he CAN'T adore her, Harriet!" Linda would protest. "No man
could adore that sort of--of shallowness, and selfishness, and vanity--"
"Well, I assure you he does! I think that sort of thing keeps a man
admiring a woman," the younger sister would maintain, airily. "He sees
her looking like a picture all the time, he sees other men crazy about

her--"
"Too much money!" Linda usually summarized, disapprovingly. But
this was always fuel to Harriet's flame.
"Too much money? You CAN'T have too much money! I've seen both
sides-don't ever say that to me! There's nothing in this WORLD but
money, right down at the bottom. If you haven't any, you can't live, and
the more you have the more decently and prettily--yes, and generously,
too--you can live! Look at Madame Carter, she was doing her own
work when she was my age--not that she ever mentions that, now! Can
you tell me that she isn't a thousand times happier now, with her maids
and her car and her dresses? And money did it- -and if you and Fred
had two thousand, or twenty thousand, a month, instead of two hundred,
do you mean to tell me your lives wouldn't be fuller, and richer, and
happier? You shake your head, Linda, but that's just to make me furious,
for you know it's true! I admire Mrs. Carter, and I assure you that if
ever I do marry-- which as you know I won't--you may be very sure
that money is the first thing I shall think about!"
It was their only ground for real dissension. Harriet usually was ready
to laugh and forget it almost instantly; but Linda, who was deeply
spiritual, never ceased to pray that all the dangers of life at Crownlands
would pass safely over the little sister's beloved head, and that some
real man, "like Fred," would win Harriet's turbulent and restless heart,
after all.

CHAPTER II
Madame Carter, gathering her draperies about her, was one of the first
to leave the terrace. Dressing for dinner was a slow and serious
business for her. She gave Harriet a cold, appraising glance as she
passed her; Richard Carter had risen to escort his mother, but she
delayed him for a moment.
"Miss Nina gone in, Miss Field?"

Harriet, whose manner with all old persons was the essence of
scrupulous formality, rose at once to her feet.
"Nina has gone to change her dress, Madame Carter."
"She took it upon herself to ask you to help us out this afternoon?" the
old lady added, with the sort of gracious cruelty of which she was
mistress. Richard Carter gave his daughter's companion a look that
asked indulgence. Harriet coloured brightly, fixing her eyes upon his
mother.
"Nina brought me a message from her mother, Madame Carter."
"Miss Nina did?" Madame Carter amended the title as if absently. "Mrs.
Carter," she added, with a glance toward the near-by group in whose
centre they could see the cream-coloured gown with its pink poppies,
"told me that she was surprised to see that you had- -had stepped into
the breach so nicely--" Her son's reproachful glance had the effect of
interrupting her, and she turned to him. "Well, I am saying that it was
very nice of Miss Field, Richard," she protested. "I am sure there is no
harm in my saying that, my dear!"
Harriet said nothing, and resumed her seat as the old lady rustled
slowly away. Her heart was hot with fury, and she was only partly
soothed by hearing Richard Carter's murmur of reproach: "How can
you be so perverse, Mother--"
"Of all the detestable, horrible, maddening--" Harriet thought, splashing
hot water and clattering tea-cups. "Who's coming?" she added aloud in
an undertone to Ward, as one more motor swept about the carriage
drive.
"What is it, Beautiful?" Ward laughed. Harriet's glorious eyes widened
into smiling warning. His open and boyish admiration was a sort of
joke between them. Yet in this second, as he craned his neck to get a
glimpse of the approaching guests, a sudden thought was born in her.
Honour had compelled her to a generous policy with Ward. She had
held his