the slishing of chopped ice and the clink of tiny glasses, worried
her. Bert even mixed a cocktail when he and she dined alone now,
and she knew that when he had had two or three, he would want
something more, would eagerly ask her if she would like to "stir
up something" for the evening--how about a run over to the Ocean
House, with the Fieldings? And wherever they went, there was more
drinking.

"Let's make a rule," she proposed one day. "Let's confine our
hospitality to persons we really and truly like. Nobody shall come
here without express invitation!"

"You're on!" Bert agreed enthusiastically.

Ten minutes later it chanced that two motor-loads of persons they
both thoroughly disliked poured into Holly Court, and Nancy rushed
out to scramble some sandwiches together in the frigid atmosphere
of the kitchen, where Pauline and Hannah were sourly attacking the
ruins of a company lunch.

"It's maddening," she said to Bert, later, when the intruders had
honked away into the late summer afternoon, "But what can we do?
Such a sweet day, and we have that noisy crowd to lunch, and then
this!"

"Well, we're having a lot of fun out of it, anyway!" Bert said,
half-heartedly. Nancy did not answer.