to bed; Mammy taught
me the art of soothing frayed nerves. Come with us, Babs," holding
out her left hand to Barbara. But the latter, with a dexterous twist,
slipped away from her touch.

"I must stay and straighten the library," she announced.

Mrs. Brewster's delicate color had deepened. "It would be as well to
open some of the doors," she agreed coldly. "The library looks odd, not
to say funereal," she glanced down the spacious room and shivered ever
so slightly. "Do, Babs, put out some of the lights; they are blinding."

"Oh, I'll turn them all out"--Barbara sought the electric switch.

"But your father--"

"No need to worry about father; he can find his way about in the dark
like a cat," responded Barbara with unabated cheerfulness. "Seems to me,
Margaret, you and father are getting mighty chummy these days."

The sudden darkness into which Barbara's impatient fingers, pressing
against the electric light buttons, plunged the library and its
occupants, prevented her seeing the curious glance which Mrs. Brewster
shot at her. Helen, who had listened to their chatter with growing
impatience, looked back over her shoulder.

"Hurry, Barbara, and come upstairs. Now, Margaret," and she piloted
the widow along the hall toward the staircase without giving her an
opportunity to answer Barbara's last remark. Barbara, pausing only long
enough to pull back the portieres of the hall door and arrange them as
they hung customarily, turned to go upstairs just as Grimes came down
the hall from the dining room carrying a large tray with pitchers of ice
water and glasses.

"I thought you had gone to your room, Grimes," she remarked, as the
butler waited respectfully for her to pass him.

"I've just come in, miss, and found Murray had left the tray in the
dining room," explained Grimes hurriedly. "I hope, miss, I'll not
disturb the ladies by knocking at their doors now with this ice water."

"Oh, no, Mrs. Brewster and Miss Helen have only just gone upstairs."
Barbara paused in front of the butler and poured out a glass of water.
"I can't wait, Grimes, I am too thirsty."

"Certainly, miss, that's all right." Grimes craned his head around and
looked up and down the hail, then leaning over he placed the tray on a
convenient table and stepped close to Barbara.

"I've been reading the newspapers very carefully, miss," he began,
taking care to keep his voice lowered. "Especially that part of Mr.
Turnbull's inquest which tells a