Lou, who did not supply her surname, sat down beside me and laughed softly. “She’s had to take steps at last, poor Berthe. You’re new here, aren’t you?” When I told her that I was, she asked frankly, “May I ask how you met the Countess?”

“At Miss Pride’s, at tea the other day. Do you know Miss Pride?”

“Oh, gracious yes, though I haven’t seen her in a month of Sundays. Has Hope gone on to New York yet?”

“She left on Tuesday, but she’ll be back tonight. She’s going to spend week-ends here.”

The girl laughed. “I dare say that was her Aunt Lucy’s idea. Poor girl, she does hate Boston so. You didn’t know she hated it? She has a perfect complex on the subject.”

“I can’t understand that. I’ve seen very little of it, but that has seemed charming.”

“You mean you’ve never been to Boston before? But where . . .”

The Countess had dispatched Mr. Preis and returned to us. “I heard you tell Sonie that Hope has a complex. This child hasn’t been here long enough to know all our complexes and reflexes and prefixes, Lou, and I don’t want you to let our cat out of the bag. She’ll detest us and run away.”

“Berthe, you’re priceless! Why, that’s what makes us so interesting.”

“Do you know what Amy and I think? We think Hope is going to change her tune and fall in love with Boston after all.”

“Why that prediction?”

“Don’t you think she’ll marry Philip McAllister?”

“I’m sure I haven’t the least idea,” returned the girl coldly and rose. “Berthe, I’ve had a wonderful time. May I come again next week?”

“But, darling, don’t go yet! I want your opinion. You know he went to Manchester for his holiday this year. Don’t you think that indicates something?”

The girl merely smiled and drew on her gloves. “Will you ask Amy to ring me up? I want her to do Monadnock for me from the top of Prospect Hill. No, don’t get up. Good-by.”

When she had gone, the Countess put her arm about my waist. “Now I have you all to myself. Tell me, don’t you think we’re right about Cousin Hope and that nice young man?”

“I don’t know Hope at all well. She seems a little . . .”

“A little highly seasoned for Philip? Of course we all think that, but that’s precisely the reason we think he’ll pursue her to the end. His mother and grandmother are so opposed, you know. Everyone talks about it ad infinitum so I’m not telling tales out of school. Haven’t we got mean little minds?”

A hysterical laugh from the doorway announced Amy Brooks’ breathless arrival. “Berthe, darling!” she cried and skipped across the room to kiss her stepmother. “I was so engrossed in doing the Oyster House that I completely forgot it was Friday. Mr. Pingrey was along and we’ve already had our tea. Do you forgive me?”