He was quite as startled to see her as she was to see him, but his greeting was a very usual question in Holland, “Will you not catch cold?”

She shook her head, and he asked, “What are you doing?  Thinking?  Weaving in your head all that you have seen and heard to-day?”

“No,” she answered; “I was thinking about courage.”

“Courage?” he repeated, puzzled.

“Yes, it is very different in different places; some people are afraid to tell the truth, so they lie; and some are afraid to be dishonest, so they are honest; I believe it depends partly on fashion.”

Joost set down the lantern in sheer surprise.  “Such things cannot depend on fashion,” he said severely.

“I am not so sure,” Julia answered; “lots of things you would not expect depend on it.  I know people who sometimes go without the food they want so that they can buy expensive cakes to show off when their acquaintances come to tea—­that’s silly, isn’t it?  Then I know other people who blush if a pair of breeches, or something equally inoffensive, are mentioned; that seems equally silly.  One lot of people is ashamed to be seen eating bread-and-cheese suppers, another lot is ashamed to be seen walking off the side-walk, and with no gloves on.  One would hardly expect in, yet I almost believe these silly little things somehow make a difference to what the people think right and wrong.”

Joost regarded her doubtfully, though he could only see the outline of her face.  “Are you making fun?” he asked.  “I do not know when you are making fun; I think you must be now.  Are you speaking of us?”

“I never felt less like making fun in my life,” Julia answered ignoring the last question.  Something in her tone struck Joost as sad, and he forgot his question in sympathy.

“I am sorry,” he said; “you are unhappy, and I have intruded upon you; will you forgive me?  You are thinking of your home, no doubt; you have not had a letter from England for a long time.”

Julia wished he did not notice so many things.  “I did not expect a letter,” she said; “my eldest sister was married last week, there would be no time to write to me till everything was over; most likely I shall hear to-morrow.”

“Is your sister married?” he asked; “and you were not able to be present?”

“It is too far to go home from here,” Julia said; then asked, “Were you going to the barns?”

“Yes,” he answered, suddenly reminded of the fact.  Then seeing she did not resume her seat on the steps, he ventured diffidently, “Will you come too?”

She assented, and they started together in silence, Joost thinking her homesick, not knowing quite what to say.  When they came to the first of the dark buildings they went in, and he swung the lantern round so that their shadows danced fantastically.  Then he tried various doors, and glanced up the wall-ladder to the square opening which led to the floor above.  There was no need to examine the place minutely, it was all quiet and dark; if there had been any one about they would certainly have heard, and if there had been anything smouldering—­a danger more to be feared, seeing that the men smoked everywhere—­it could have been smelt in the dry air.