Barbara in Brittany

by E. A. Gillie

Not so her companion, however, a most talkative personage, who was hardly quiet five minutes consecutively. She poured forth all sorts of confidences about her family and friends, and seemed quite satisfied if Barbara merely nodded and murmured, "Comme c'est interessant!" though she did not understand nearly all her companion said. The latter pointed out places of interest in passing, and finally, with an effusive good-bye, got out at the station before St. Servan.

As the train neared its destination, Barbara looked anxiously to see what the town was like, and her disappointment was great at the first glimpse of the place. When the family had looked up the Encyclopaedia for a description of St. Servan, it seemed to be that of a small, old-fashioned place, and Barbara had pictured it little more than a village with a picturesque beach. Instead of that, she saw many houses, some tall chimneys, and quays with ships lying alongside. It would have cheered her had she known that the station was really a considerable distance from the town, and in the ugliest part of it; but that she did not find out till later.

Outside the station were many vociferous cab-drivers offering to take her anywhere she liked, and, choosing the one whose horse seemed best cared for, she inquired if he knew where the house of Mademoiselle Loiré, Rue Calvados, was. Grinning broadly he bade her step in, and presently they were rolling and bumping along rough cobble-stoned streets. Barbara had further imagined, from the description of the house that Mademoiselle Loiré had sent them, that it was a villa standing by itself, and was rather surprised when the fiacre, after climbing a very steep street, stopped at a door and deposited herself and her trunks before it. Almost before she rang the bell she heard hurried steps, and the door was opened by some one whom she imagined might be the housekeeper.

"Is Mademoiselle Loiré in?" she inquired of the thin and severe-looking woman with hair parted tightly in the middle.

"I am Mademoiselle Loiré," she replied stiffly in French, "and you, I suppose, are Miss Britton! I am sorry there was no one at the station to meet you, but we did not expect you so soon."

"Did you not get my post-card?" Barbara asked.

"I could not possibly do that," Mademoiselle Loiré returned reprovingly; "it was posted in Paris far too late for that. However, perhaps you will now come into the salon," and Barbara followed meekly into a room looking out upon the garden, and very full of all kinds of things. She had hardly got in before she heard a bustle on the stairs, which was followed by the entrance of Mademoiselle Thérèse Loiré. Her face was not so long nor her hair so tightly drawn back as her sister's, and she came forward with a rush, smiling broadly, but, somehow, Barbara felt she would like the prim sister better.

After asking many questions about the journey they took her to her room, and Barbara's heart sank a little. The house seemed dark and cold after that in Neuilly, and her bedroom was paved with red brick, as was the custom in those parts in old houses.

The dining-room—smelling somewhat of damp—was a long, low room leading straight into the garden, and the whole effect was rather depressing. At supper-time, Barbara was made acquainted with the rest of the household, which consisted of an adopted niece—a plump girl of about seventeen, with very red cheeks and a very small waist—and two boys about twelve, who were boarding with the Loirés so that they might go to the Lycée[1] in the town. After supper, Mademoiselle Thérèse explained that they usually went for a walk with the widower and his children who lived next door.

"Poor things!" she said, "they knew nobody when they came to the town, and a widower in France is so shut off from companionship that we thought we must be kind to them. They have not a woman in the house except a charer, who comes in the first thing in the morning."