"Not since the day you lunched with Mrs. Carter, and that was almost two weeks ago!" Harriet's hands were busy with cups and plates; now she nodded to a maid. "Mayn't Inga carry this to your mother, Mrs. Putnam?" she asked. "And couldn't you stay here and have some tea yourself?"
Mrs. Putnam immediately settled herself in the neighbouring chair.
"I'm chaperoning little Lettice Graham for a week," she began, in the delightful voice upon which Harriet had modelled her own. "But Lettice is trying her little arts upon Ward Carter. Dear boy, that!"
"Ward? He IS a dear!" Harriet said, innocently.
"No blushing?" Mary Putnam asked, with a smiling look. The colour came into Harriet's lovely face, and the smoky blue eyes widened innocently.
"Blushing--for WARD?" she asked.
Mrs. Putnam stirred her tea thoughtfully.
"I didn't know," she said. "You're young, and you know him well, and you're--well, you have appearance, as it were!"
Harriet laughed.
"Ward is twenty-two," she observed.