"Cicely, Cicely," she cried, "never let it be said again that Barbara is a brainless madcap. I have conceived the properest plot, a very prince of plots. Thou shalt see thy Romeo to-night, my poor lovelorn Juliet, and I——faith! I will have the maddest prank that ever woman played." And flinging herself on to the grass, she laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks.
Cicely stared at her in undisguised astonishment.
"Barbara," she remarked solemnly, "I verily believe thou art mad."
"Thou wouldest say so indeed an thou knewest my plan."
"Come then, tell me."
"Not I," laughed Barbara. "Be thou content with thy beloved Romeo, and leave me my jest to myself."
"But, Barbara, I am afraid. What if the plan should fail!"
"Talk not to me of failure, Cis. There is a risk, I do not deny it; but," she continued, laughing, "if danger befall can we not fight our way out? Butcher is a mighty ally; I am well nigh as handy as Rupert with the rapier, and thou mightest perchance discharge a pistol or so, if it were possible to do so and cover thine ears at the same moment."
"In Heaven's name, Barbara, what have you in your mind?" cried Cicely in dismay.
"Fear nothing, coz; leave all to me. Listen, Peter the smith can always be trusted; he or little Jacky Marlow would carry our message to Rupert. If he start at twilight he should be here before ten. We can hide him——"