‘How is papa?’ asked Eve; then, without waiting for an answer, she ran into her father’s room to kiss him and tell him of the party, and show herself again in her pretty dress, and again receive his words of praise and love. But Barbara remained at the door, leisurely folding her cloak. Then she put both her own and her sister’s parasols together in the stand. Then she stood brushing her soles on the mat—quite unnecessarily, as they were not dirty. ‘You may go away, Jane,’ said Barbara to the maid, who lingered at the door. ‘Please, Miss, I’m waiting for you to come in, that I may lock up.’ Then Barbara was obliged to enter. ‘Has Mr. Babb been with my father?’ she asked. ‘No, Miss. I haven’t seen him since you left.’ ‘You may go to bed, Jane. It is washing-day to-morrow, and you will have to be up at four. Has not Mr. Babb had his supper?’ ‘No, Miss. He has not been here at all.’ ‘That will do.’ She signed the maid to leave. She stood in the hall, hesitating. Should she unbar the door and go out and recover the roses? Eve would leave her father’s room in a moment, and ask questions which it would be inconvenient to answer. Let them lie. She went upstairs with her sister, after having wished her father good-night. ‘Barbie, dear!’ said Eve, ‘did you observe Mr. Squash?’ ‘Do not, Eve. That is not his name.’ ‘I think he looked a little disconcerted. I repudiated.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I refused to be bound by the engagements we had made for a quadrille and a waltz. I did not want to dance with him, and I did not.’ ‘Run back into your room, darling, and go to bed.’ When Barbara was alone she went to her window and opened it. The window looked into the court. If she leaned her head out far, she could see where the bunch of roses ought to be. But she could not see them, though she looked, for the grass lay dusk in the shadows. The moon was rising, and shone on the long roof like steel, and the light was creeping down the wall. That long roof was over the washhouse, and next morning at early dawn the maids would cross the quadrangle with the linen and carry fuel, and would either trample on or pick up and appropriate the bunch of yellow roses. Barbara remembered every word that she had said to Jasper. She could not forget—and now could not forgive herself. Her words had been cruel; how they must have wounded him! He had not been seen since. Perhaps he was gone and would not return again. They and she would see him no more. That would be well in one way, it would relieve her of anxiety about Eve; but, on the other hand, Jasper had proved himself most useful, and, above all—he was repentant. Her treatment of him might make him desperate, and cause him to abandon his resolutions to amend. Barbara knelt at the window, and prayed. The white owls were flying about the old house. They had their nests in the great barn. The bats were squeaking as they whisked across the quadrangle, hunting gnats.