she had grown fond even of Mademoiselle Therese.
The latter lady declared she and her household were inconsolable and
"unhappy enough to wear mourning," which remark Barbara took with a
grain of salt, as she did most things that lady said.

But the two sisters and Marie all went to the station to say good-bye,
and each of them kissed her on both cheeks, weeping the while. Barbara
was not very fond of kisses from outsiders in any case, but "weeping
kisses," as she called them, were certainly a trial! What finally
dried Mademoiselle Therese's tears was to see the widower and his two
sons entering the station, each carrying a bouquet of flowers.

"So pushing of them," she murmured in Barbara's ear, and turned coldly
upon them; but the girl and her aunt were touched by the kindness, and
the former felt horribly ashamed when she remembered that more than
once in private she had laughed at the quaint little man and his ways.

Barbara heard her aunt muttering something about a "dreadful humbug"
once or twice, but she was very gracious to every one, and smiled upon
them all until the train left the station, when she sank back with an
air of relief and exclaimed, "Thank goodness! That's over--though, of
course, they meant it kindly."

"They are very kind," Barbara said, looking down at the three bouquets
on the seat. "I really don't deserve that they should be so kind."

"Probably not," Miss Britton returned calmly. "We sometimes get more
than our deserts, sometimes less, so perhaps things adjust themselves
in the end. I was really rather astonished not to see the bath-boy at
the station too--your acquaintance seems so varied."

"Yes, I have learned a great deal since I went there," Barbara said
thoughtfully; "and just at the end I felt I didn't want to come away at
all."

"I have no such feelings," her aunt remarked, though, perhaps, a little
thoughtfully also. But when they arrived at Rouen, the remembrance of
their pleasant time in Paris returned to them, and they both felt ready
for the delights of seeing a new town.

Apart from the information given by the Mortons Barbara felt already
familiar with the great churches and quaint streets, and for her Rouen
never quite lost the halo of romance that Mademoiselle Vire had endowed
it with.

It was to be connected with yet another story of the past, however,
before they left it, one which, for romance, was fully equal to
Mademoiselle Vire's, though its conclusion