missed
it.

Compliments continued to fly for some time, like butterflies in June;
then, from sheer exhaustion, the sisters released him, and wiped their
eyes from excess of emotion. Barbara was just assuring herself that
the widower's arms _did_ seem to be all right, when he turned round,
and, seizing both her hands, began to shake them as violently as his
had been shaken a few minutes before.

Barbara was much bewildered, not knowing what she had done to deserve
this tribute, and wondering if the widower were doing it out of a
spirit of revenge, and a desire to make somebody else's hands as tired
as his own. But one glance at his glowing, kindly face dispelling that
idea, Barbara concentrated all her attention on the best way to free
herself, and avoid going through a similar ordeal with all the others,
which, she began to fear, might be her fate.

She escaped it, however, for Mademoiselle Loire had hastened away to
bring up some wine from the cellar, in honour of the occasion, and they
were all invited into the _salon_ to drink to each other's healths
before parting. The widower was called upon to give a speech, to which
Mademoiselle Therese replied at some length, without being called upon;
and it was getting quite late before the two "noble preservers" retired
to their own home.

When they had gone, Mademoiselle Loire suggested that all danger might
not yet be past, and, as the men might return again later, she thought
it would be wiser to make preparations. So the two frightened
maid-servants being called in to assist, the shutters were closed
before all the windows, and heavy furniture dragged in front of them.
When this was done, and all the doors bolted and barred, Mademoiselle
Therese proposed to take turns in sitting up and keeping watch.
Barbara promptly vetoed the motion, declaring she was going to bed at
once, and, as no one else seemed inclined to take the part of sentinel,
they all retired.

"I hope we may be spared to see the morning light," Mademoiselle
Therese said solemnly. "I feel there is great risk in our going to bed
in this manner."

"Then why don't you sit up, sister?" Mademoiselle Loire said crossly,
for the last hour or two had really been very tiring. But to this her
sister did not deign to reply, and, taking up her candle, went up to
bed. When Barbara gained the safe precincts of her own room she
laughed long and heartily, and longed that Donald or Frances could have
been the