‘How is papa?’ asked Eve; then, without waiting for an answer, she ran into her father’s room to kiss him and tell him of the party, and show herself again in her pretty dress, and again receive his words of praise and love.
But Barbara remained at the door, leisurely folding her cloak. Then she put both her own and her sister’s parasols together in the stand. Then she stood brushing her soles on the mat—quite unnecessarily, as they were not dirty.
‘You may go away, Jane,’ said Barbara to the maid, who lingered at the door.
‘Please, Miss, I’m waiting for you to come in, that I may lock up.’
Then Barbara was obliged to enter.
‘Has Mr. Babb been with my father?’ she asked.
‘No, Miss. I haven’t seen him since you left.’
‘You may go to bed, Jane. It is washing-day to-morrow, and you will have to be up at four. Has not Mr. Babb had his supper?’
‘No, Miss. He has not been here at all.’
‘That will do.’ She signed the maid to leave.