The conservatory door, leading into the garden, was open. Barbara saw Mrs. Post, Governor Post, Harry Townsend and a woman in a gold-colored brocade enter the conservatory and stop to talk for a few minutes. They had not noticed Barbara nor did she feel it was quite proper to interrupt them, as she did not know the strange woman who was with them.
Governor Post bowed in military fashion to the ladies.
“Now,” he said, “I’ll go, and leave the young man to do the entertaining. We old fellows must make ourselves useful when our ornamental days are over. Mr. Townsend will look after you here, and I shall find a waiter and have him bring you something to eat.”
Barbara saw Harry Townsend talking in his most impressive manner to the two women.
“It is curious,” Bab thought, to herself, “what a society man Harry Townsend is. Gladys says he is only twenty-two. I wonder where he comes from. Nobody seems to know. Oh, yes; Gladys said he was educated in Paris. She met him on shipboard.”
The little girl from her green bower was an interested watcher. It was fascinating to be able to see all that was going on, without being seen. Bab sat as quiet as a mouse, taking no part in the conversation.
Mrs. Post was a handsome woman of about fifty, who looked rather stern to the girls; but Hugh assured them that she was “dead easy,” once you got on the right side of her. Her husband was a prominent lawyer in Washington, and their winters were usually spent in the capital.
Mrs. Post’s gown was nearly covered by a long, light-colored chiffon wrap, with a high collar lined with a curious ornamental embroidery.
“Harry,” she said, turning to the young man with her, “it is warm in here with these tropical plants; will you be kind enough to remove my wrap?”
The conservatory was dimly lighted. Barbara sat in the shadow. Between her and the party she was watching was a central row of flowers and evergreens, dividing the long room into two aisles.