“Will you come into the hall?” she said. “This lady is my mother, and I want to see to her comforts. If you will stay in the hall I will come back to you presently.” Mrs. Ives nodded. Barbara conveyed Mrs. Evershed up-stairs. “Why do you talk to that sort of person, Barbara? It’s not at all good taste,” said Mrs. Evershed. “Oh, mother, where does the bad taste come in? She’s such a little character, quite an oddity, and I enjoy her,” said Barbara. “I wonder where Dick is!” A servant, who had been hovering about, now came forward with Dick’s note. “Sir Richard said you were to receive this immediately on your return, my lady,” he remarked. Barbara opened the note, read the contents, and her face turned white. “What can be the matter?” she said aloud. “Is anything wrong, dear?” asked Mrs. Evershed. “No, nothing that I know of; but Dick had to go to town unexpectedly. He says he’ll be back to-morrow. I wonder what can be the matter! He said nothing at all about going to town when I was leaving this morning.” “Sir Richard went away in a dog-cart with two strange men,” volunteered the footman. Barbara’s surprise and curiosity became still greater, but she would not condescend to question the man. “It’s all right,” she said in a would-be cheerful tone. “Let me take you to your room, mother. I hope the fire is good.” Mrs. Evershed thought nothing of Dick’s disappearance. On the contrary, she was rather pleased than otherwise to have her daughter to herself for the first evening. “The house is wonderfully pretty, dear,” she said. “More than pretty, quite handsome, but it really ought to be re-decorated. That splendid old tapestry, for instance, is quite thrown away in its present position. Now, you ought to go to——” “I like things as they are,” interrupted Barbara. “Of course, my dear child; but without in the least disturbing the old ancestral appearance of the place you could accentuate the best points. I know a man who will help you. His terms are enormous, but what can you expect when he does so much for the money.” “Well, mother, we will talk about that presently. Now, this is your room. I hope you will find it comfortable.” The apartment in question was a splendid one and very spacious. Barbara’s maid was waiting to unpack Mrs. Evershed’s things. “I will leave you now to the care of Marshall,” said the younger lady. “Marshall, please bring tea to Mrs. Evershed in this room. We dine at seven, mother.” Barbara left the room. In the passage outside she stood still for a minute. There was no one by. She slipped her hand into her pocket and took out Dick’s note. It was written in pencil on a torn page of his pocket-book. The few words were quickly read, but Barbara lingered long over the “Darling” with which the note was begun. Suddenly raising it to her lips she kissed the signature; then, tenderly folding it up, she put it back in her pocket.