"Yes, uncle."
"See that everything is nice and in order. And, Barbara——"
"Yes, uncle," said Barbara again, for he paused.
"Mr. Reynold Harding will probably look down on you. I suspect he thinks that you and I are about fit to black his boots. Be civil, of course, but you needn't do it."
"I'm sure I don't want," said the girl quietly; "and at that rate I should hope he would come with them tolerably clean to-morrow."
Mr. Hayes laughed suddenly, showing his teeth.
"By Jove!" he said, "they were dirty enough this afternoon!"
"In my service," said Barbara. "Now I come to think of it, it seems to me that I ought to clean them."
"Nonsense!" her uncle exclaimed, still smiling at the remembrance. "And you saw him roll into the ditch?—Barbara, the poor fellow must hate you like poison!"