Auntie May said very little as the carriage rolled along, but when, at
last, we reached home, she swept me in before the assembled family.
"There were ten little boys telling her good-night," she cried,
breathlessly, in a voice divided between awe and delight. "Ten little
boys! Just fancy! Our Rhoda! She was a great success. She was the
prettiest one there."
My mother put out a tender hand and drew me to her.
"And did you have a good time at the party, Rhoda?" she asked, eagerly.
"A real good time, little girl?"
I looked around the listening family circle. They were all watching me.
Yes, even my father over his paper.
"I don't know," I answered, bashfully.
"Of course she didn't," grandmother cried, nodding her head
triumphantly. "Of course she didn't. She's a Harcourt all over."
I looked down at my little brass ring. I felt that grandmother was
wrong.