Barbi leant a little forward with the towels clasped to the blue cotton bosom of her dress. “No, no! I will not speak. But, dear Fraulein, that is a big matter; have you well thought?” “Thought, Barbi? Have I not!” “But, dear Fraulein, will you be rich?” “No! I shall be as poor as you.” “Ach! dear God! that is terrible. Katrina, my sister, she is married; she tells me all her life; she tells me it is very hard, and but for the money in her stocking it would be harder. Dear Fraulein, think again! And is he good? Sometimes they are not good.” “He is good,” said Christian, rising; “it is all settled!” and she kissed Barbi on the cheek. “You are crying, liebes Fraulein! Think yet again, perhaps it is not quite all settled; it is not possible that a maiden should not a way out leave?” Christian smiled. “I don't do things that way, Barbi.” Barbi hung the towels on the horse, and crossed herself. XXIV Mr. Treffry's gaze was fixed on a tortoise-shell butterfly fluttering round the ceiling. The insect seemed to fascinate him, as things which move quickly always fascinate the helpless. Christian came softly in. “Couldn't stay in bed, Chris,” he called out with an air of guilt. “The heat was something awful. The doctor piped off in a huff, just because o' this.” He motioned towards a jug of claret-cup and a pipe on the table by his elbow. “I was only looking at 'em.” Christian, sitting down beside him, took up a fan. “If I could get out of this heat—” he said, and closed his eyes. 'I must tell him,' she thought; 'I can't slink away.' “Pour me out some of that stuff, Chris.” She reached for the jug. Yes! She must tell him! Her heart sank. Mr. Treffry took a lengthy draught. “Broken my promise; don't matter—won't hurt any one but me.” He took up the pipe and pressed tobacco into it. “I've been lying here with this pain going right through me, and never a smoke! D'you tell me anything the parsons say can do me half the good of this pipe?” He leaned back, steeped in a luxury of satisfaction. He went on, pursuing a private train of thought: “Things have changed a lot since my young days. When I was a youngster, a young fellow had to look out for peck and perch—he put the future in his pocket. He did well or not, according as he had stuff in him. Now he's not content with that, it seems—trades on his own opinion of himself; thinks he is what he says he's going to be.” “You are unjust,” said Christian.