"Oh, yes you do. You deliberately tried to shy off my first question"--at this point she touched a bell--"by answering the second first, and then omitting to answer the first at all." At this moment a servant appeared in answer to her ring. "Send word to John," she commanded, "to bring the carriage at once--the open one with the bays. Now, Guilford Duncan, I have no time to talk with you except the ten minutes before the carriage comes. For I'm going to put on a hat and go after Barbara. Perhaps, between us, she and I can prevent you two men from talking business at supper. Tell me----" "But can Barbara come on so short a notice?" "What sort of blunderer do you take me to be? I sent her a note two hours ago saying I should go after her, and she sent me for reply, a note saying she would be more than glad to come. But you mustn't grow conceited over that. I didn't tell her you were to be here, or that I meant to put you into the carriage to escort her home. It is quite possible that if I had told her that she would have declined the invitation. Now, answer my first question. Why haven't you been taking Barbara to places--to church and all the rest of it?" "Must I tell you the truth?" "Yes, certainly. What would be the use of telling me anything else? I should know if your fibbed." "I really believe you would." "Why, of course I should. What are a woman's wits for, anyhow?" "The carriage is at the door," said a servant, entering. "Very well. Let it wait. Now, Guilford Duncan, go on and tell me." "Well, the fact is, that I have not been in a position to ask Barbara to accept my escort to public places." "Why not? Is it because of this Tandy affair?" "No." "Then what? Go on, and don't make me pump the information out of you, as if you were a well or a leaky barge." "The fact is," Duncan spoke very seriously now, "that a little while ago I was betrayed by own emotions into declaring my love for Barbara, much sooner than I had intended--before she was prepared to hear it." "Oh, nonsense! As if a girl ever needed preparation for a declaration of that sort from--- well, from the right sort of man. But go on, you know the carriage is waiting. Tell me. Has she accepted you?" "No." "Has she rejected you?" "No." Here Mrs. Duncan again rang the bell, and a servant appeared so promptly as to suggest that she had been listening just outside the door. "Tell my maid to get into the carriage and go and fetch Miss Barbara Verne. Tell her to say that I am detained here, and am forced to send my maid in my stead." The servant said, "Yes'm," and withdrew. Then Mrs. Duncan resumed her questioning with manifest eagerness, but with as much of seriousness as Duncan himself had shown. There was no touch of flippancy, or even of lightness in either her words or her tone. For Mrs. Will Hallam was a woman of deep and tender feeling, a woman to whom all holy things were sacred.