But Mrs. Boyer was not so sure she was going to talk about the American child. She was not sure of anything, except that the household looked most irregular, and that Peter Byrne was trying to cover a difficult situation with much conversation. He was almost glib, was Peter. The tea was good; that was one thing. She sat back with her muff on her knee, having refused the concession of putting it on a chair as savoring too much of acceptance if not approval, and sipped her tea out of a spoon as becomes a tea-lover. Peter, who loathed tea, lounged about the room, clearly in the way, but fearful to leave Harmony alone with her. She was quite likely, at the first opportunity, to read her a lesson on the conventions, if nothing worse; to upset the delicate balance of the little household he was guarding. So he stayed, praying for Anna to come and bear out his story, while Harmony toyed with her spoon and waited for some mention of the lessons. None came. Mrs. Boyer, having finished her tea, rose and put down her cup. “That was very refreshing,” she said. “Where shall I find the street-car? I walked out, but it is late.” “I'll take you to the car.” Peter picked up his old hat. “Thank you. I am always lost in this wretched town. I give the conductors double tips to put me down where I want to go; but how can they when it is the wrong car?” She bowed to Harmony without shaking hands. “Thank you for the tea. It was really good. Where do you get it?” “There is a tea-shop a door or two from the Grand Hotel.” “I must remember that. Thank you again. Good-bye.” Not a word about the lessons or the American child! “You said something about my card in the Doctors' Club--” Something wistful in the girl's eyes caught and held Mrs. Boyer. After all she was the mother of daughters. She held out her hand and her voice was not so hard. “That will have to wait until another time. I have made a social visit and we'll not spoil it with business.” “But--” “I really think the boy's mother must attend to that herself. But I shall tell her where to find you, and”--here she glanced at Peter--“all about it.” “Thank you,” said Harmony gratefully. Peter had no finesse. He escorted Mrs. Boyer across the yard and through the gate with hardly a word. With the gate closed behind them he turned and faced her:-- “You are going away with a wrong impression, Mrs. Boyer.” Mrs. Boyer had been thinking hard as she crossed the yard. The result was a resolution to give Peter a piece of her mind. She drew her ample proportions into a dignity that was almost majesty. “Yes?” “I--I can understand why you think as you do. It is quite without foundation.” “I am glad of that.” There was no conviction in her voice.