“I don’t mind anything you do so long as Mr. Pingrey is your chaperon. We were just making a match between Hope and Dr. McAllister, and I was also on the very point of saying I’m betting on another marriage of a certain young lady not a thousand miles away to a young man whose name begins with P.”

Amy Brooks collapsed in shaking laughter, her eyes brimming with tears, and I got up, unnerved by the spectacle and aware suddenly that we three were alone. The Countess permitted me to go only after she had got my solemn promise that I would come to her every Friday for the rest of my natural days. “And now, good-by, come back to me. I love you!”

3

Dinner was served punctually at seven, and nothing would have induced Miss Pride to delay it by a minute. She regarded tardiness at mealtime as the same sort of self-indulgence as illness. But as she insisted that I dress each night (she did not herself, but thought that I should “learn how to manage an evening frock against an evil day,” the evil day presumably being the one on which I should be invited out somewhere) I could not help being late, and she had finished her soup when I entered the dining-room. “We dine at seven, Sonie,” she said, laying down her spoon. “You shouldn’t have changed.”

“I thought you wouldn’t like it if I didn’t.”

“When two rules conflict, the important one is the one that should be obeyed. It is commendable in you to remember to dress, but punctuality is infinitely more important. I understand that you were late to Berthe’s today.” She leaned forward so that her face was framed by the white candles as she confronted me with this astonishing information. Was I so simple that my very actions could be read in my face? I dared not question her and for some minutes she pursued the subject without hinting at the identity of the scout who had lurked about the doorway on Beacon Street to time me. But she was not angry. She smiled. “It was a mistake. Berthe is rather lax about everything except her Fridays. I suppose it meant you didn’t hear the music and that never sets well with her. But she wasn’t offended. She telephoned me the minute you left the house to say how pleased she had been with you. She referred to you by some foreign nickname that I did not catch. I was rather surprised you were already on such intimate terms.”

I explained how she had come to call me Euphrosyne (rather, Euphrysone) and while Miss Pride said nothing, I was sure she was taking in every word in order to repeat it the next time Berthe’s name was brought up amongst her friends. I went on then to tell her that I had been delayed because I had encountered Mrs. Prather on Dartmouth Street.

“Who is Mrs. Prather?”