CHAPTER XVIII.
AUNT ANNE AGAIN.
Barbara had not been so frequently at the bath-house of late, the seaproving more attractive, and she was therefore surprised one day ongoing there to find a new bath-boy. She missed her old plain-facedfriend and wondered what had become of him. "Is he ill?" she asked atthe office on her way out.
The woman pursed up her lips; "No, he is not ill," she said. "But wefound that he was not of the character that we thought."
"But he had been with you some years," Barbara expostulated, for theboy had confided that fact to her.
"He had, but he had degenerated, we found."
A dreadful doubt seized Barbara that his dismissal might be due to thehelp he had given her in Alice's escape, and in that case she would bepartly responsible for him.
"Will you kindly give me his address?" she said, turning back again tothe office. The woman looked doubtful, and said she was not sure ifshe had it.
"I think if he has been with you several years, you must surely knowwhere he lives," Barbara persisted; and seeing her determined look, thewoman apparently thought it would be the quickest way to get rid ofher, and did as she was asked. Barbara repeated the name of the streetand the number once or twice as she went out, and wondered how sheshould begin to find her way there, though consoling herself bythinking it was not the first time she had hunted up unknown addressessuccessfully since she had come to France.
It was very hot, and for a moment she hesitated, wondering whether shewould not put off her search till another time; then she decided it washer duty to look the boy up at once. Asking a kindly postman if hecould direct her to the address, she found that the house was in one ofthe streets near the quays. Though rather a long way off, it was notdifficult to find, and once found it was not easily forgotten, for thesmells were mingled and many.
Barbara wandered down between the high old houses, looking at thenumbers--when she could see them--and finally found the one she sought.She had not to wait long after knocking, and the door was opened by thebath-boy himself, who stared at her in astonishment.
"Ma'm'selle?" he said doubtfully, as if uncertain whether she were amessenger of ill omen or not.
"I have come to call," Barbara explained. "May I please come in?"
His face broadened into the familiar grin, and he shuffled down thepassage before her, wearing the same heelless list slippers that hadfirst attracted Barbara's attention to him in the bath-house. The roomhe took her into smelt fresh and clean, and indeed was half full ofclean clothes of all descriptions.
"My mother is _blanchisseuse_," the boy said, lifting a heap ofpinafores from a chair. "I am desolated that she is out."
"Yes. Guillaume, will you please tell me why you were sent away fromthe bath-house?"
Guillaume looked uncomfortable, and moved his foot in and out of hisslipper.
"Why, ma'm'selle--I was dismissed. They said it was my character, butthat is quite good. I do not drink, nor lie, nor steal; my mother wasalways a good bringer up."
"Then was it because of helping the English lady to escape? Was itthat, Guillaume?" The boy swung his slipper dexterously to and fro onhis bare toes.
"It was doubtless that, ma'm'selle, for it was after the visit of thelady she belonged to that I was dismissed. My mother warned me at thetime. 'It is unwise,' she said, 'for such as you to play thus.' Butthe little English lady looked so sad."
"I _am_ sorry, Guillaume. I do wish it had not happened."
"So do we, ma'm'selle," said the boy simply, "for my mother, who is_blanchisseuse_, has lost some customers since then, too, and I cannotget anything here. To-morrow I go to St. Malo or Parame to try--butthey are much farther away. Yet we must have money to keep the littleHelene. She is so beautiful and so tender."
"Who is Helene?" inquired Barbara; and at the question the boy's faceglowed with pride and pleasure.
"I will bring her to you, ma'm'selle; she is now in the garden. She iswith me while I am at home."
He shuffled off, and returned in a few minutes with a little girl inhis arms: so pretty a child that Barbara marvelled at the contrastbetween them.
"She is not like me, hein?" he asked, laughing. "Helene, greet thelady," and Barbara held out both hands to the little girl, who, after along stare, ran across to her. In amusing her and being herselfamused, Barbara forgot the reason of her visit, and only remembered itwhen the little girl asked her brother suddenly if he would fetch her aroll that evening.
The boy looked uncomfortable. "Not to-night," he hastened to say, "butthe mama, she will bring you something to-night for supper. I used tobring her a white roll on my way home from the baths," he explained toBarbara.
"May I give her one to-night?" the girl asked quickly, putting her handinto her pocket. "I would like to."
But the boy shook his head. "No, no, the mama would not like it--thefirst time you were in the house. Some other time, if ma'm'selle doesus the honour to come again."
"Of course I will. I want to see how you get on at St. Malo orParame," she said, "and whether Helene's doll gets better from themeasles."
"Or whether she grows wings," put in Helene in waving her hand infarewell.
Barbara was very thoughtful on her way back, and before reaching thehouse, she had determined to give up her riding for the present. Onemore excursion she would have, in which to say good-bye to MonsieurPirenne, who had been very kind to her; but it seemed rather selfish touse up any more of the liberal fund which her aunt had supplied herwith for that purpose. After all, it was hard that the bath-boy,through her fault, could not even supply his little sister with rollsfor her supper.
Mademoiselle Therese was somewhat surprised at the sudden decision, andperhaps a little annoyed by it, for she had grown accustomed to thetrips to Dinard, and would miss them greatly. Monsieur Pirenne wasalso disturbed, because he feared "Mademoiselle had grown tired of his_manege_." Barbara assured him to the contrary, and tried to satisfythem both with explanations which were as satisfactory as such can bewhen they are not the real ones. As to connecting the girl's visits tothe ex-bath-boy--which Mademoiselle Therese thought were due merely toa passing whim--and the cessation of rides, she never dreamed of such athing.
The result of the boy's inquiries at St. Malo and Parame were fruitlessat first, and Barbara had paid several visits, and was beginning tofeel almost as anxious as the mother and son themselves before the boysucceeded in his search. But one afternoon when she arrived she foundhim beaming with happiness, having found at least a temporary job atParame, and one which probably would become permanent.
"That news," she said, shaking the boy's hand warmly in congratulation,"will send me home quite light-hearted."
But somehow, though she was honestly glad, it did not make her feel ashappy as it should have done, and she thought the road back had neverseemed so long, nor the sun so hot. She would gladly have missed herevening lesson and supper, but she feared that of the two evilsMademoiselle Therese's questions would probably be the worse. Indeed,when in the best of health, that lady's conversation was apt to bewearisome, but when one felt--as Barbara had for the past fewdays--that bed was the only satisfactory place, and _that_ even harderthan it used to be, then mademoiselle's chatter became a penance noteasily borne.
"You are getting tired of us, and beginning to want home," theFrenchwoman said in rather offended tones two days later, when Barbaradeclined to go with her to Dol. "I am sorry we have not been able toamuse you sufficiently well."
"Oh, that isn't it at all," Barbara assured her. "It is just that Ihave never known such hot weather before, and it makes me disinclinedfor things."
"You are looking whitish, but that is because you have been staying inthe house too much lately. Dol would do you good and cheer you up."
"Another time," the girl pleaded. "I think I won't go to-day," and thelady left her with a shrug, and the remark that she would not goeither. She was evidently annoyed, and Barbara won
dered what sheshould do to atone for it; but later in the day she had a visit thatdrove the thoughts of Dol from both her mind and mademoiselle's.
She was sitting in her room trying to read, and wondering why she couldnot understand the paragraph, though she had read it three or fourtimes, when Mademoiselle Therese came running in excitedly to say therewere two American gentlemen downstairs in the _salon_ to see her--oneold, one young. "Mr. Morton," was the name on the card.
"Why, it must be the American pretender!" cried Barbara; who, seeingher companion's look of surprise, added hastily, "the elder one used toknow my Aunt Anne, and they have both been in Paris; it was the youngerone who helped Alice Meynell there."
"Then, indeed, I must descend and inquire after her," said mademoisellejoyfully. "I will just run and make my toilet again. In themeanwhile, do you go down and entertain them till I come."
But Barbara was already out of the room, for she thought she would liketo have a few minutes conversation before Mademoiselle Therese came in,as there might not be much opportunity afterwards.
"How nice of you to call on me," she said, as she entered the _salon_."I was just longing for one of the English-speaking race."
The elder Mr. Morton was tall and thin, with something in his carriagethat suggested a military upbringing; his hair and eyes gray, thelatter very like his nephew's grown sad.
"The place does not suit you?" the elder man inquired, looking at herface.
"Oh, yes, I think so; it is just very hot at present."
"Like the day you tried to ride to Dol," the nephew remarked, wonderingif it were only the ride that had given her so much more colour thefirst time he had seen her, and the sea breeze that had reddened hercheeks the last time.
But there were so many things the girl was anxious to hear about, thatshe did not allow the conversation to lapse to herself or the weatheragain before Mademoiselle Therese, arrayed in her best, made herappearance. She at once seized upon the younger man, and began to pourout questions about Alice.
"You need not fear any bad results," Mr. Morton said to Barbara. "Mynephew is very discreet;" and Barbara, hearing scraps of theconversation, thought he was not only discreet but lawyer-like in hisreplies.
The visit was not a very long one, Mr. Morton declining an invitationto supper that evening, with promises to come some other time. Butbefore they went, he seized a moment when Barbara's attention wasengaged by his nephew to say something that his hostess rather resented.
"The young lady does not look so well as I had imagined she would. Isuppose her health is quite good at present?"
"She has complained of nothing," Mademoiselle Therese returned,bridling. "Why should she be ill? The food is excellent and abundant,and we do everything imaginable for the comfort of our inmates."
"I am sure you do, madame," he replied, bowing. "I shall have thepleasure of calling upon you again, I hope, before long. As I knewMiss Britton it is natural for me to take an interest in her niece whenin a foreign land. Your aunt, I suppose, is now in England?" he addedcasually to Barbara.
"Yes--staying with us for a day or two; but I hope she will come herebefore I go, and we could make an excursion on our way home."
"That would be pleasant for both, I am sure," Mr. Morton replied,taking a ceremonious leave of Mademoiselle Therese, and a simple,though warmer one of Barbara. The young man said little in parting,but as soon as they were in the street he laid his hand hurriedly onhis uncle's arm.
"The girl is ill, uncle, I am sure of it; she is not like the sameperson I met before; and that Mademoiselle Therese would drive me crazyif I weren't feeling up to the mark."
"No doubt; what a tongue the woman has! But what do you want to do,Denys, for, of course, you have made up your mind to do something?"
Denys frowned. "Of course I don't want to seem interfering, but Iwon't say anything at home in case of frightening her mother. But----"he paused and looked up at his uncle--"do you think it would seemimpertinent to write to the aunt? She might come a little sooner,perhaps, and, being at Mrs. Britton's, could use her judgment abouttelling her or not."
Mr. Morton pondered, his mind not wholly on the girl whom they had justleft; then remembering his nephew he brought his thoughts down to thepresent. "I should risk the impertinence if I were you, Denys. Butwhat about the address?"
"I know the village and the county," Denys said eagerly. "I shouldthink that would find her. I will do it when I get back."
But it proved more difficult to write than he imagined, and it was sometime before--having succeeded to his satisfaction--he brought theletter to his uncle for criticism. It ran thus:--
"DEAR MADAM,--I am afraid you may think it rather impertinent on mypart to write to you, but I hope you will forgive that, and my apparentinterference. I am Denys Morton, whom your niece met some time ago onthe way to Dol, and, as my uncle and I were passing this way inreturning from a little tour, we called on Miss Britton, and boththought her looking ill. The doctor here is, I believe, quite good,but Mademoiselle Therese, though doubtless a worthy lady, would, to me,be rather trying in time of illness. I should not write to you, but Ifear Miss Britton will not, being unwilling to worry you or any ofthose at home. My uncle made a suggestion on the matter toMademoiselle Therese, which was not very much liked by that lady,therefore he thought I might write you. He asks me--if you stillremember him as a 'past acquaintance'--to give you his regards.
"Hoping you will forgive my officiousness.
"Yours truly, "DENYS MORTON."
"That is quite passable," Mr. Morton said when he had read it. "Ithink you will hardly give offence. I wonder if she remembers me?"
"She could hardly help doing that," and Denys nodded affectionately athis uncle. "But I shall be much happier when this letter arrives atits destination. The address is not very exact. However, we will see,and we can call again to-morrow--it would be kind, don't you think, toone of our 'kith,' so to speak, and in a foreign land?"
The uncle smiled. "It would be kind, as you say, Denys, so we will doit."
But when they called the following afternoon they were told that MissBritton was in bed and Mademoiselle Therese engaged. As a matter offact, she was in the midst of composing a letter to Mrs. Britton, forwhen Barbara had said as carelessly as she could, that she would stayin bed just for one day, Mademoiselle Therese, remembering hervisitor's "remarks the previous afternoon, had taken alarm and sent forthe doctor, and now thought it would be wiser to write to Mrs. Britton.Having wasted a good many sheets of paper, and murmured the letter overseveral times to herself, she sought her sister out.
"Listen," she said proudly, "I think I have succeeded admirably intelling Mrs. Britton the truth and yet not alarming her, at the sametime showing her that by my knowledge of her language I am not unfittedto teach others."
"HONOURED MADAM,--I am permitting myself to write to you about yourdear daughter, who has entwined herself much into our hearts. Thereare now some few days she has seemed a little indisposed, and at lastwe succeeded in persuading her to retire to bed, and called in theworthy and most respectable, not to say gifted, family doctor who givesus his attention in times of illness. He expressed his opinion that itwas a species of low fever, what the dear young lady had contracted,out of the kindness of her good heart, in visiting in time of sicknessthe small sister of the bath-boy (a profession which you do not have inEngland)----
"That shows my knowledge of their customs, you see," the reader couldnot refrain from interpolating; then she continued with a flourish--
"and the daughter of a worthy _blanchisseuse_, who is in every respectvery clean and orderly, therefore we thought to be trusted with thepresence of your daughter, but whom, in the future, we will urge theadvisability of leaving unvisited."
Mademoiselle paused a moment for breath, for the sentence was a longone, and she had rolled it out with enjoyment. "Of course," she saidto her sister, "I have not yet visited the house of this_blanchisseuse_, but I inqui
red if it was clean, and, would not haveallowed the girl to go if the report had not been favourable; but tocontinue--
"Your daughter, in the excellence of her heart, would not, perhaps,desire to rouse your anxieties by mentioning her indisposition, but wefelt it incumbent upon us, in whose charge she lies, to inform herrelatives, and, above all, her devoted mother.
"With affectuous regards, "Yours respectably, "THERESE LOIRE."
"There!" exclaimed the writer in conclusion. "Do you not think that isa fine letter?"
Her sister shrugged her shoulders.
"Probably it is, but you forget I cannot understand English. But praydo not trouble to translate it," she added hastily; "I quite believe itis all that you say."
"Yes, you may believe that," and Mademoiselle Therese closed theenvelope. "I think it will make an impression."
In that belief she was perfectly right, and perhaps it was a fortunatething that Aunt Anne was there to help to remove the impression; for,that lady having already had Denys Morton's letter, was prepared forthis one, and was glad she had been able to tell the news in her ownway to her sister-in-law the day before.
"Don't look so scared, Lucy," she said. "I don't suppose there isanything much amiss, though I shall just pack up and go at once. Whatan irritating woman this must be--quite enough to make any one ill ifshe talks as she writes."
With characteristic promptitude Miss Britton began to make herpreparations immediately, and only halted over them once, and that waswhen she hesitated about packing a dress that had just come home, whichshe said was ridiculously young for her.
"It will get very crushed," she muttered discontentedly. "But then----Oh, well, I might as well put it in," and in it went. Mrs. Brittonhovered anxiously about her, and watched her proceedings wistfully.
"You don't think I should go too, do you, Anne?" she asked.
"Not at present, certainly," Miss Britton returned promptly, regardingher with her head on one side. "I promise I will let you know exactlyhow things are, and whether you would be better there. I would say'Don't worry' if I thought it were the least good, but, of course, youwill."
Then she stooped and fastened a strap of her trunk. "It was a mostsensible thing of the young Morton to write straight away, and,probably, if they are there, they will be quite sure to see Barbara hasall she wants--the uncle always was a kind-hearted man."
Then she straightened her back and declared everything was ready.
She crossed by night from Southampton to St. Malo, and was greatlyafraid that she would arrive "looking a wreck," and, to prevent thatshe partook largely of a medicine she had seen advertised as a "certaincure for sea-sickness." Her surprise equalled her delight when sheawoke in the morning, having slept peacefully all night, and sherefused to believe that her good night was probably owing to thecalmness of the sea and not to the medicine.
She looked with a little dismay at the shouting, pushing crowd ofporters and hotel touts waiting on the quay, wondering how she wouldmanage to keep hold of her bag among them all, and, as she crossed thegangway, clutched it more tightly than before.
"No," she said, as some one took hold of it as soon as her foot touchedthe quay. "You shall not take my bag--I would not trust it to any oneof you. You should be ashamed of yourselves, screaming like wildIndians."
It was just then that Denys Morton and his uncle came through thecrowd. "That is she--there," the elder man said, recognising her afterfourteen years. "Go and help; I will wait here."
It was at a crucial moment, when Miss Britton was really gettingexasperated and rather desperate, that the young man came up, and sheaccepted his assistance and explanation with relief.
"My uncle is down here," he said. "We have a _fiacre_ waiting. Thereis always such a crush and rout on the quay, we thought we had bettercome to pilot you through."
The young man, in spite of his easy bearing, had been a little anxiousas to how the two would meet again, and dreaded lest there might besome embarrassment. But beyond an air of shyness that sat strangely onboth, and a kind of amused wonder at meeting after so many years, therewas nothing to show that they had been more than mere acquaintances,and the talk centred chiefly on Barbara.
"She does not know you are coming yet," Denys said. "MademoiselleTherese got your telegram, but said it would be better not to tell yourniece in case the ship went down on the way!"
"What a cheerful person to live with!" Miss Britton ejaculated. "I'mafraid I may be very rude to her."
"I hope not," Mr. Morton said. "It would do no good, and she seems tobe an excellent lady in many ways."
"We shall see!" Miss Britton replied grimly, getting out of the_fiacre_; and Denys felt rather sorry for Mademoiselle Therese.
But Miss Britton was often worse in imagination than in reality, andshe behaved with all due politeness to both the sisters, who met her atthe door, and led her into the _salon_. She even bore a certain amountof Mademoiselle Therese's explanations with patience, then she got up.
"Well, well, I would rather hear all that afterwards, mademoiselle, andif I may just take off my hat and coat I will go straight up to myniece. I had breakfast on board."
A few minutes later Aunt Anne opened Barbara's door and entered, alittle doubtful lest her sudden appearance might not be bad for herniece, but thinking it could not be much worse than a preparation "bythat foolish woman."
Barbara was lying with her back to the door, but something different inthe step made her turn round, and she sprang up in bed.
"Aunt Anne! Aunt Anne!" and dropping her face into the pillow began tocry.
Aunt Anne stood a moment in doubt. It was such a rare thing to see anyof "the family" cry that she was startled--but not for long; then shecrossed the room and began to comfort her niece.
"It was dreadfully foolish of me," the girl said after a while, "but itwas _so_ nice to see you again. Mademoiselle Therese is very kind,but--she creaks about, you know, and--and fusses, and it is a littletrying to have foreigners about when you are--out of sorts."
"Trying! She would drive me distracted. Indeed, if I had only her tonurse me I should die just to get rid of her!"
"Oh, she's not quite so bad as _that_," Barbara returned. "She hasbeen very kind indeed, aunt, and is a very good teacher; and you getused to her, you know."
"Perhaps. But now I'll just tell you how they are at home. Then youmust be quiet, and, as I crossed in the night, I shall be glad of arest too. I can stay in here quietly beside you."
Miss Britton having had a little experience in sickness, saw that,though probably there was no need for anxiety, Barbara was certainly_ill_. She felt more reassured after she had seen the doctor, who sheallowed "seemed sensible enough for a Frenchman," and wrote hersister-in-law a cheery letter, saying the girl had probably been doingtoo much, and had felt the strain of the affair of the "solicitor" morethan they had realised.
"The doctor says it is a kind of low fever," she told the Mortons; "but_I_ say, heat, smells, and fussiness."
After a few days' experience, she owned that the Loires were certainlynot lacking in kindness, but still she did not care to stay there verylong; and she told Denys Morton that she had never been so polite,under provocation, in her life before. The uncle and nephew, who hadnot yet moved on, did not speak of continuing their travels for thepresent, and Miss Britton was very glad to know they were in the town.
One of Barbara's regrets was that she had missed seeing the meetingbetween Mr. Morton and her aunt, and that she was perhaps keeping thelatter from enjoying as much of his company as she might otherwise havedone. There were many things she wanted to do with Miss Britton whenallowed to get up, but in the meanwhile she had to content herself withtalking about them. She was much touched by the attention ofMademoiselle Vire, who sent round by Jeannette wonderful home-madedainties that, as Barbara explained to her aunt, "she ought to havebeen eating herself."
A fortnight after Miss Britton's arrival Barbara was allowed to god
ownstairs, and, after having once been out, her health came back "likea swallow's flight," as Mademoiselle Therese poetically, though alittle ambiguously, described it. She and her aunt spent as much timeout of doors as possible, going for so many excursions that Barbarabegan to know the country round quite well; but, though many of thedrives were beautiful, none seemed to equal the one she had had withMademoiselle Vire, which was a thing apart.
They drove to La Guimorais again one afternoon, and on their return thegirl told Denys Morton, who had been with them, the story of the_manoir_. He was silent for a little at the close, then, as if it hadsuggested another story to his mind, he looked towards where his uncleand Miss Britton were walking up and down.
"I would give anything--almost anything, at least--that he might behappy now; he has had a great deal of the other thing in the past," hesaid.
"So would I," Barbara agreed. "You know, I couldn't quite understandit before, but I do now. When you're ill--or supposed to be--you seequite another side of Aunt Anne and one that she doesn't always show.Of course, your uncle is just splendid. I can't understand how auntcould have been so silly."
Denys laughed softly, then grew grave, and when they spoke again it wasof other things, for both felt that it was a subject that must betouched with no rough, everyday fingers. "They would hate to have itdiscussed," was the thought in the mind of each. But the story ofMademoiselle Vire, and all that he had heard about her, made Denys wishto see her, and as Aunt Anne felt it a duty to call there beforeleaving St. Servan, Barbara took them all in turns, and was delightedbecause her old friend made a conquest of each one. Even Miss Britton,who did not as a rule like French people, told her niece she was gladshe had not missed this visit.
As neither Mademoiselle Vire nor Miss Britton knew the other'slanguage, the interview had been rather amusing, and Barbara's powersas interpreter had been taxed to the uttermost, more especially as shefelt anxious to do her part well so as to please both ladies. WhenMademoiselle Vire saw that her pretty remarks were not understood, shesaid gracefully--
"Ah! I see that, as I am unfortunate enough to know no English,madame, I can only use the language of the eyes."
Barbara translated the remark with fear and trembling, afraid that heraunt would look grim as she did when she thought people were talkinghumbug, but instead, she had bidden Barbara reply that MademoiselleVire would probably be as far beyond her in elegance in that languageas in her own; and the girl thought that to draw such a speech from heraunt's lips was indeed a triumph.
The lady certainly did smile at the inscription Mademoiselle Vire wroteon the fly-leaf of a book of poems she was giving the girl, and which,Miss Britton declared, was like an inscription on a tombstone--
"A Mademoiselle Barbara Britton, _Connue trop tard, perdue trop tot._"
But she did not laugh when she heard what the little lady had said onBarbara's last visit.
"We are of different faiths, _mon amie_, but you will not mind if I putup a prayer for you sometimes. It can do you no harm, and if we do notmeet here again, perhaps the good God will let us make music togetherup yonder."
Miss Britton fixed the day of departure as soon as Barbara was readyfor the journey, proposing to go home in easy stages by Rouen andDieppe, so that they might see the churches of which Mr. Morton hadtalked so much. The uncle and nephew had just come from that town, andwere now returning to Paris, and thence, Denys thought, to England.
Mademoiselle Therese was "desolated" to hear that Barbara's visit wasreally drawing to a close, and assured her aunt that a few more monthswould make Barbara a "perfect speaker; for I have never known one ofyour nation of such talent in our language," she declared.
"Of course that isn't true," Miss Britton said coolly to Barbaraafterwards, "though I think you have been diligent, and bothMademoiselle Vire and the queer little man next door say you speakfairly well."
The "queer little man next door" asked them both in to supper beforethey went, to show Miss Britton, he said, what a Frenchman could do inthe cooking line. Barbara had some little difficulty in persuading heraunt to go, though she relented at last, and the experience wascertainly very funny, though pathetic enough too. He and his sonscould talk very little English, and again Barbara had to playinterpreter, or correct the mistakes they made in English, which wasequally difficult.
They had decorated the table gaily, and the father and son both lookedso hot, that Barbara was sure they had spent a long time over thecooking. The first item was a soup which the widower had often spokenof as being made better by himself than by many a _chef_, and consistedof what seemed to Barbara a kind of beef-tea with pieces of breadfloating in it. But on this occasion the bread seemed to have swelledto tremendous proportions, and absorbed the soup so that there washardly anything but what seemed damp, swollen rolls! Aunt Anne,Barbara declared afterwards, was magnificent, and plodded her waythrough bread sponges flavoured with soup, assuring the distressed cookthat it was really quite remarkable "potage," and that she had nevertasted anything like it before--all of which, of course, was perfectlytrue.
The chicken, which came next, was cooked very well, only it had beenstuffed with sage and onions, and Monsieur said, with pride, that theyhad thought it would be nice to give Mademoiselle Britton and her niece_one_ English dish, in case they did not like the other things! It wasduring this course that Barbara's gravity was a little tried, not somuch because of the idea of chicken with sage and onions, as because ofthe stolidity of her aunt's expression--the girl knowing that if therewas one thing that lady was particular about, it was the correctcooking of poultry.
There were various other items on the menu, and it was so evident thattheir host and his eldest son had taken a great deal of trouble overthe preparation of the meal, that the visitors were really touched, anddid their best to show their appreciation of the attentions paid them.In that they were successful, and when they left the house the widowerand his sons were wreathed in smiles. But when they had got to a safedistance Aunt Anne exclaimed, "What a silly man not to keep a servant!"
"Oh, but aunt," Barbara explained, "he thinks he could not manage aservant, and he is really most devoted to his children."
"It's all nonsense about the servant," Miss Britton retorted. "How cana man keep house?"
Nevertheless, when Mademoiselle Loire began to question her rathercuriously as to the dinner, she said they had been entertained verynicely, and that monsieur must be an extremely clever man to managethings so well.
One other visit Barbara made before leaving St. Servan, and that was tosay good-bye to the bath-boy. It had needed some persuasion on herpart to gain her aunt's permission for this visit.
"But, aunt, dear," Barbara said persuasively, "he helped me with Alice,and lost his place because of it. It would be so _very_ unkind to goaway without seeing how they are getting on."
"Well, I suppose you must go, but if I had known what a capacity youhad for getting entangled in such plots, Barbara, really I should havebeen afraid to trust you alone here. It was time I came out to putmatters right."
"Yes, aunt," Barbara agreed sedately, but with a twinkle in her eyes,"I really think it was," and she went to get ready for her visit to thebath-boy.
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