Next day she did not appear until luncheon-time. But the guests at
Beechleigh always rose when they pleased, and no one remarked her
absence even, each pair busy with their own affairs. Only Barbara crept
up to her room to see how she was, and if she wanted anything. Theodora
wondered why her cousin should have been so changed from the afternoon
of their arrival. And Barbara longed to tell her. She moved about, and
looked out of the window, and admired Theodora's beautiful hair spread
over the pillows. Then she said:

"Oh, I wish you came here often and Mildred didn't. She is a brute, and
she hates you for being so beautiful. She made me keep away, you know.
Do you think me a mean coward?" Her poor, plain, timid face was pitiful
as she looked at Theodora, and to her came the thought of what Barbara's
life was probably among them all, and she said, gently:

"No, indeed, I don't. It was much better for you not to annoy her
further; she might have been nastier to me than even she has been. But
why don't you stand up for yourself generally? After all, you are Uncle
Patrick's daughter, and she is only your mother's niece."

"They both love her far more than they do me," said Barbara, with
hanging head.

And then they talked of other things. Barbara adored her home, but her
family had no sentiment for it, she told Theodora; and Pat, she
believed, would like to sell the whole thing and gamble away the money.

Just before luncheon-time, when Theodora was dressed and going down,
Josiah came up again to see her. He had fussed in once or twice before
during the morning. This time it was to tell her a special messenger had
come from his agent in London to inform him his presence was absolutely
necessary there the first thing on Tuesday morning. Some turn of deep
importance to his affairs had transpired during the holiday. So he would
go up by an early train. He had settled it all with Sir Patrick, who,
however, would not hear of Theodora's leaving.

"The party does not break up until Wednesday or Thursday, and we cannot
lose our greatest ornament," he had said.

"I do not wish to stay alone," Theodora pleaded. "I will come with you,
Josiah."

But Josiah was quite cross with her.

"Nothing of the kind," he said. These people were her own relations, and
if he could not leave her with them it was a strange thing! He did not
want her in London, and she could join him again at Claridge's on
Thursday. It would give him time to