"Why, Barbara, this is good luck. To think I have not seen you since the first afternoon of my arrival! I'm sorry you have been so tremendously busy every time I have had a chance to run into the hospital for a few moments. But Mildred and Nona have given me news of you."
Dick Thornton had taken Barbara's hand and was looking searchingly into her face. But after her first recognition of him she had dropped her lids, so it was not possible to see her eyes.
"I have just been up to your hospital now, but could not get hold of either Mildred or Nona. I am sorry. Nona had promised me, if she could be spared, to spend the afternoon seeing sights. I have investigated thirty destitute Belgian families since eight o'clock this morning and reported their cases, so I feel rather in the need of being cheered."
Barbara's chin quivered a little, although it was not perceptible to her companion.
"I am dreadfully sorry too," she answered the next instant. "Certainly you are deserving of Nona's society for a reward. And if I had only known your plan you might have carried it out. It is my afternoon of freedom, but I would very cheerfully have changed my time with Nona."
"You are awfully kind, I am sure," Dick returned. But he scarcely showed the gratitude at Barbara's suggestion that she expected.
He glanced up at the beautiful Gothic tower of the church near them, remarking irritably, "I expect you are quite as much in need of a rest as any one else. Really, Barbara, it is all very well to do the best one can to help these unfortunate people, but there is no especial point in killing yourself. You look wretchedly. You are not trying to play at being the patron saint of Brussels, are you? Is that why you haunt the church of Saint Gudula?"
Barbara smiled. "I am the farthest person from a saint in this world," she replied, wrinkling up her small nose with a faint return to her old self. "Nona and Mildred and I have decided recently that we haven't but one saint among us. And she is the last person I should ever have awarded the crown at our first meeting. Moreover, I wouldn't dare present it to her now, if she could see or hear me in the act. She would probably destroy me utterly, because my saint is very human and sometimes has a dreadful temper, besides a desire to boss everybody else. I wonder if real saints ever had such traits of character? Of course, you know I mean Eugenia! I am on my way now to her Hotel des Enfants, if I can ever find the right street car. She already is taking care of twelve children, and I have never seen her nor her house since we separated. Gene has promised to send some one to meet me at the end of the car line. Her house is a deserted old place where a ghost is supposed to hold forth. But I am assured the ghost has not turned up recently. It is nice to have met you. Good-by." And Barbara was compelled to stop talking for lack of breath after her long speech, as she held out her hand. Dick ignored the outstretched hand. His face had assumed a charming, boyish expression of pleading. Barbara was reminded of the first days of their meeting in New York City.
"I say, Barbara, why can't I go along with you?" he demanded. "Of course, I realize that for some reason or other you are down upon me. I am not such a chump as not to understand you could have seen me for a few minutes in these last few weeks if you had tried. But Eugenia is friendly enough. I haven't seen her, but I had a stunning note from her. Besides, as I sent her five of her twelve Belgian babies, I think I've the right to find out if she is being good to them. I am a kind of a godfather to the bunch. Let's stop by a shop and get some stuffed dolls and whistles and sugar plums. Some of the Belgian children I have discovered seemed to be forgetting how to play."
Barbara had not answered. Indeed, Dick had not intended to give her a chance. Nevertheless, her expression had changed to a measure of its former brightness. It would be good fun to have Dick on the afternoon's excursion! She had rather dreaded the journey alone into a strange part of the countryside, one might so easily get lost. Beside, Barbara knew in her heart of hearts that she had absolutely no right for her unfriendly attitude toward Dick Thornton. If he had chosen to treat her with less intimacy than in the beginning of their acquaintance, that was his own affair. If he now preferred Nona to her—well, he only showed a better judgment in desiring the finer girl.