days were getting shorter now, and that the sky looked like rain. And when the wagonette rumbled under the porte-cochère and the horses stamped and jingled, her insides fluttered like a flight of birds, and she pushed her hand in its new biscuit suède glove under Joe's comforting arm.
A butler ambled down the steps for their bag—a butler! Joe hadn't told her there was going to be a butler. Oh, Joe, I'm scared to death, but I'll try not to disgrace you, darling. With an uplifted face of disdain she entered the hall.
Carrie Pyne drifted toward them, moaning:
"Well, Kate! Well, Joe! Here you are!"
"Yes, here we are!"
They all laughed vaguely and politely.
"Mrs. Whipple's resting until dinner. She sent her dear, dear love—at least, I know she would have if—Oh, Kate! Did you hurt yourself? Those bears' heads are terrible in the dark corners. I don't suppose you'd care for a cup of tea before you go to your rooms?"
"Oh, no in" Kate began obediently; but Joe broke in, "We would very much, thank you."
"Oh—ah—Harcourt, could you please just bring us some tea?"
"Tea, miss?" said Harcourt in an astonished voice.
"Yes, please, just—yes, please. I don't know why Harcourt's always so surprised. We have it ever so often, but he's always just as— Hm! Hm!"
