"Another second … and I should have gone mad," she whispered.
Downstairs some one had thrown open a window, some one was playing a piano. She turned on the light and rang for her maid.
"I shall get up for dinner after all," she said. "I mean, I shan't.… I don't know what I'm talking about. What—I mean—is: I shall get out of bed for dinner, but I shan't go down. That's clear, isn't it? What's the time?"
"Eight o'clock, my lady."
Then her dream had lasted less than five minutes.…
"I'm going to sleep. I shan't want any dinner. Will you bring the telephone in here?"
The maid left the room in bewilderment at the conflicting orders and sought counsel of the housekeeper. Ten minutes later Lady Crawleigh came in to find Barbara in bed with the telephone tucked under one arm and the receiver to her ear. She finished some request for an address, nodded as the answer was given and lifted the instrument to a table by her side.
"Well, my dear, you seem to have given poor Merton a fright," said Lady Crawleigh. "Is anything the matter?"
"I never felt better in my life," answered Barbara.
"Are you coming down to dinner?"