"I don't see any wickedness," answered Barbara, quickly. "That was the voice of the Lord. I suppose it is always coming."
"Then, Barbara—"
Then Mrs. Holabird walked away again.
The next day—that day, after our eleven o'clock breakfast—Harry came back, and was at Westover all day long.
Barbara got up into mother's room at evening, alone with her. She brought a cricket, and came and sat down beside her, and put her cheek upon her knee.
"Mother," she said, softly, "I don't see but you'll have to get me ready, and let me go."
"My dear child! When? What do you mean?"
"Right off. Harry is under orders, you know. And they may hardly ever be so nice again. And—if we are going through the world together—mightn't we as well begin to go?"
"Why, Barbara, you take my breath away! But then you always do! What is it?"
"It's the Katahdin, fitting out at New York to join the European squadron. Commander Shapleigh is a great friend of Harry's; his wife and daughter are in New York, going out, by Southampton steamer, when the frigate leaves, to meet him there. They would take me, he says; and—that's what Harry wants, mother. There'll be a little while first,—as much, perhaps, as we should ever have."