Nancy had a moment of panic; her eyes sought wildly for Peter Hyde. Then her fighting blood stirred. "Thank you, Webb," she said with well-assumed calmness. "Don't worry a bit! We'll show them--we'll act just as though we hadn't invited anyone else!" But her nonchalant manner cloaked real distress. There was Miss Sabrina, proud Miss Sabrina who had opened the doors of her trouble for all Freedom to come and gape at--Nancy knew it had not been easy! There was pretty, fluttering, expectant Aunt Milly in the dress she had had made when she was eighteen; Nonie who had dreamed of throngs of guests paying homage before her; and B'lindy, who had made a cake that was "like as a twin to the one my mother made for the Gov'nor!" What would _they_ say? Was she not, indirectly, the cause of the humiliation that threatened them? Nancy hurried to Peter Hyde where, in a corner of the garden, he stood paying court to Nonie. In answer to his pleasant nonsense Nonie's delighted laughter was rising shrilly. Nancy sent Nonie back to Aunt Milly. Then she caught Peter's arm. "Peter! _Pe-ter_! Quick--come behind this bush! I'm--I'm--I've got to cry----" And to Peter Hyde's consternation Nancy _did_ burst into tears. "For Heaven's sake, Nancy, what----" "I'm just--_mad_," Nancy blurted from behind a handkerchief. "The--the _cats_!" She lifted her head, relieved by her sudden outburst. "It's that Mrs. Eaton again! She's--just--getting even!" She told what Webb had said. "And here's the--party--and no one will come! Aunt Sabrina will never, never get over it. And B'lindy--I _wish_ I could run away." Peter Hyde wanted very much to laugh, but the real distress in Nancy's face touched him. He patted her consolingly. "Can't I do something? Can't Webb and I round 'em up at the point of a gun?" "N-no, it's too late! We've just got to act as though the--the garden was _full_ and make the best of it! I wanted it to be _such_ a success. I wanted it to be a party that Nonie 'd never forget. And I wanted everyone to see Aunt Milly! Oh, why, oh, _why_ doesn't something happen!" For Nancy had suddenly remembered the huge pails of ice-cream and the cake that was "like as a twin to the one my mother made for the Gov'nor." At that moment the loud whirring of an automobile caught their attention. Nancy, red-eyed, peeped from behind their bush. "It's at our gate!" she cried. "_Peter_----" she clutched his arm. From the tonneau a tall man was alighting. To Nancy there was something vaguely familiar in the sharp-featured, clean-shaven face and in the mass of wavy white hair that fringed his coat collar. "_Peter, it's--it's--Theodore Hoffman!_" CHAPTER XIX THE MASTER