All at once, with an “O, I forgot!” she started away from him in the abruptest fashion, and glanced off across the room, and over into a little side parlor beyond the hall, into which she certainly had not been before that day.  She could have “forgotten” nothing there; but she doubtless had just enough presence of mind not to rush up the staircase toward the dressing-rooms, at the risk of colliding with the bridal party.  When Leslie an instant later came in at the double doors, Mrs. Holabird caught sight of Barbara again just sliding into the far, lower corner of the room by the forward entrance, where she stood looking out meekly between the shoulders and the floating cap-ribbons of Aunt Trixie Spring and Miss Arabel Waite during the whole ceremony.

Whether it was that she felt there was something dangerous in the air, or that Harry Goldthwaite had some new awfulness in her eyes from being actually a commissioned officer,—­Ensign Goldthwaite, now, (Rose had borrowed from the future, for the sake of euphony and effect, when she had so retorted feet and dignities upon her last year,)—­we could not guess; but his name or presence seemed all at once a centre of electrical disturbances in which her whisks and whirls were simply to be wondered at.

“I don’t see why he should tell me things,” was what she said to Rosamond one day, when she took her to task after Harry had gone, for making off almost before he had done speaking, when he had been telling us of the finishing of some business that Mr. Goldthwaite had managed for him in Newburyport.  It was the sale of a piece of property that he had there, from his father, of houses and building-lots that had been unprofitable to hold, because of uncertain tenants and high taxes, but which were turned now into a comfortable round sum of money.

“I shall not be so poor now, as if I had only my pay,” said Harry.  At which Barbara had disappeared.

“Why, you were both there!” said Barbara.

“Well, yes; we were there in a fashion.  He was sitting by you, though, and he looked up at you, just then.  It did not seem very friendly.”

“I’m sure I didn’t notice; I don’t see why he should tell me things,” said whimsical Barbara.

“Well, perhaps he will stop,” said Rose, quietly, and walked away.

It seemed, after a while, as if he would.  He could not understand Barbara in these days.  All her nice, cordial, honest ways were gone.  She was always shying at something.  Twice he was here, when she did not come into the room until tea-time.

“There are so many people,” she said, in her unreasonable manner.  “They make me nervous, looking and listening.”

We had Miss Craydocke and Mrs. Scherman with us then.  We had asked them to come and spend a week with us before they left Z——.

Miss Craydocke had found Barbara one evening, in the twilight, standing alone in one of the brown-room windows.  She had come up, in her gentle, old-friendly way, and stood beside her.