Barbara, with a chuckle over the "charer," went to put on her hat, and on coming into the dining-room again, found the widower and his sons already there. Something in the shape of the back of the elder man seemed familiar to her, and on his turning round to greet her, she recognised her little friend of the train on their first arrival in France. The recognition was mutual, and before she had time to speak he rushed forward and poured forth a torrent of French, while Mademoiselle Thérèse clamoured for an explanation, which he finally gave her.
At last he had to stop for want of breath, and Barbara had time to look at his sons—boys of twelve and sixteen—who seemed a great care to him. All the three, father and sons, wore cloaks with hoods to them, which they called capucines, and as there was very little difference in their heights, they made rather a quaint trio. Barbara was glad to see him again, however, for it seemed to bring her aunt nearer.
It amused her considerably to notice how Mademoiselle Thérèse flew from one party to another, during the whole of the walk, evidently feeling that she was the chaperon of each individual. She started out beside the widower, but soon interrupted his conversation by dashing off to give a word of warning to the boys, and what was supposed to be a word of encouragement to Barbara, who was walking with Marie, the niece, and the widower's eldest son.
It did not make much difference to them, for Jean and Marie seemed to have plenty to say; and after addressing a few careless remarks to Barbara, to which, perhaps, she did not pay much attention, the latter heard her say to her companion, "Bah! there is nothing to be made of her; let us continue;" and she was glad they left her alone that first evening, for she was not in the mood for talking.
[1] Public school.
CHAPTER VI.
THE REVOLT OF TWO.
The days that followed were not as pleasant to Barbara as those she had spent in Paris, for though St. Malo, just across the river, fascinated her, she did not care much for St. Servant, and the people did not prove congenial to her—especially Mademoiselle Thérèse. Though she seemed to be a clever teacher, Barbara could never be sure that she was speaking the truth, and in writing home she described her as "rather a humbug."
"Most English people," she told Barbara shortly after her arrival, "pronounce French badly because their mouths are shaped differently from ours, but yours, Miss Britton, is just right, therefore your accent is already wonderfully good."