Barbara in Brittany

by E. A. Gillie

Then the truth struck Barbara in a flash, and she had only to look at her companion's face to know she was right.

"You were going the other way," she cried—"of course you were—and you turned back on my account. No wonder you knew your way through the wood!"

He gave an embarrassed laugh. "I'm sorry—I really did not mean to deceive you exactly. I have a good head for 'direction.'"

"And you came all that long way back with me I It was good of you. I really——"

But he interrupted her. "Please don't give me thanks when I don't deserve them. This town is such a quaint old place I am quite glad to spend the night here. And—I really think you ought not to go hither and thither without the rest of the party—I don't think your aunt would like it. The house you want is straight ahead." Then he took off his cap and turned away, and Barbara never remembered, until he had gone, that though he had seen her name on the label on her bicycle she did not know his.

She christened him, therefore, the "American Pretender," firstly, because he looked like an Englishman, and secondly, because he pretended to be going where he was not. After all, she was not very much behind her time, and, fortunately, Mademoiselle Thérèse had been so interested in the lawyer's conversation that she had not worried about her. Barbara did not speak of her encounter with the cyclist, but merely said she had got out of her way a little, and had found a kind American who had helped her to find it; which explanation quite satisfied "the party."

The lawyer's château, as it was called, seemed to Barbara to be very like what French houses must have been long ago, and she imagined grand ladies of the Empire time sweeping up the long flight of steps to the terrace, and across the polished floors. The salon, with its thick terra-cotta paper, and gilded chairs set in stiff rows along the walls, fascinated her too, and she half expected the lady of the house to come in, clad in heavy brocade of ancient pattern. But everything about the lady of the house was very modern, and Barbara thought Mademoiselle Thérèse's garments had never looked so ugly. The girl enjoyed sitting down to a meal which was really well served, and she found that the lawyer, though clever, was by no means alarming, and that his wife made a very charming hostess.

Mademoiselle Thérèse was radiating pride and triumph at having been able to introduce her charge into such a "distinguished" family, and as each dish was brought upon the table, she shot a glance across at Barbara as much as to say, "See what we can do!—these are my friends!"

Poor Mademoiselle Thérèse! After all, when she enjoyed such things so much, it was a pity, Barbara thought, that she could not have them at home.

She was enjoying, too, discussing various matters with the lawyer, for discussion was to her like the very breath of life.