The Admiral was puzzled. What did she mean? But he shook off his forebodings. He turned to where the Eyesore, buried more than usual in his horrible old hat, was putting on new bait, and gave a low whistle. The Eyesore signalled to him to be quiet and at that moment he became aware of Madame, who was moving away from the Gazebo. "Gobblessmysoul! Madame!" he muttered to himself with inexplicable confusion, and hastily withdrew out of sight with his thrush. Miss Barbara Pennymint came hopping down her steps, followed by Marjolaine. Madame had recovered her self-possession. "Ah!" she cried, seeing Marjolaine, "I was a little alarmed about you. Did you not hear me call?" "No, Maman chérie." Madame turned to Barbara. "Don’t let her stay out if it rains." And with a pleasant nod to the two girls she moved into her house. She had need to be alone. Marjolaine and Barbara locked their arms round each others’ waists and came across the lawn. Barbara turned up her pretty nose. "The Eyesore looks more revolting than ever!" "Dreadful," assented Marjolaine, with a shudder. At this instant the Eyesore caught another fish! and Marjolaine gave a cry of surprise. Sempronius sat and watched. "What’s he doing now?" asked Barbara, in a whisper. Marjolaine looked. Then she covered Barbara’s eyes with her hand. "Don’t look!" and in a tragic whisper, "He’s putting on a worm!" "Oh!" cried Barbara, with a shiver of disgust. They came down to the elm. "It was impossible," said Marjolaine, "to talk in Ruth’s presence, with Doctor Johnson screaming in the next room." "Dearest," answered Barbara confidentially, "shall I confess that sometimes that bird—" she broke off—"but no! it were disloyal. Only, if Charles had given me a lock of his hair, perhaps it would have made less noise. Yet, now I think of it, that is a selfish wish, for he had been scalped." "How dreadful!" cried Marjolaine. But she was full of her great idea, and went on at once. "Barbara, were you very much in love?" Barbara’s face grew very serious. "Dearest," she said reproachfully, "is that quite a delicate question?" "Well," said Marjolaine, "I mean, are you still as much in love as ever?" Barbara avoided her eyes. But she spoke with almost exaggerated feeling. "Dearest! Do you think love can change?" Marjolaine thought a moment. I suppose she was consulting her own heart. Then she spoke very firmly. "No! I don’t think so!" "And do I not hear the sound of my darling’s voice every time Doctor Johnson yells? Is not that enough to keep the flame of love alive even in the ashes of a heart however dead? Oh! if only that innocent fowl had been present when Charles used different language!" "But did he?" asked Marjolaine innocently. "I sometimes wonder," answered Barbara, deep in thought. Marjolaine felt she had said a tactless thing. She must try to soften it. "Perhaps the loss of his hair—" she began.