[CHAPTER XXIV.]
WHERE THEY WITHERED.
Barbara did not enjoy the party at the Cloberrys. She was dull and abstracted. It was otherwise with Eve. During the drive she had sulked; she was in a pet with Barbara, who was a stupid, tiresome marplot. But when she arrived at Bradstone and was surrounded by admirers, when she had difficulty, not in getting partners, but in selecting among those who pressed themselves on her, Eve’s spirits were elated. She forgot about Jasper, Barbara, her father, about everything but present delight. With sparkling eyes, heightened colour, and dimples that came and went in her smiling face, she sailed past Barbara without observing her, engrossed in the pleasure of the dance, and in playing with her partner.
Barbara was content to be unnoticed. She sat by herself in a corner, scarce noticing what went on, so wrapped up was she in her thoughts. Her mood was observed by her hostess, and attributed to anxiety for her father. Mrs. Cloberry went to her, seated herself at her side, and talked to her kindly about Mr. Jordan and his accident.
‘You have a friend staying with you. We rather expected him,’ said Mrs. Cloberry.
‘Oh!’ Barbara answered, ‘that was dear Eve’s nonsense. She is a child, and does not think. My father has engaged a steward; of course he could not come.’
‘How lovely Eve is!’ said Mrs. Cloberry. ‘I think I never saw so exquisite a creature.’
‘And she is as good and sweet as she is lovely,’ answered Barbara, always eager to sing her sister’s praises.
Eve’s roses were greatly admired. She had her posy out of her waistband showing the roses, and many a compliment was occasioned by them. ‘Barbara had a beautifull bouquet also,’ she said, and looked round. ‘Oh, Bab! where are your yellow roses?’