The lawyer's chateau, as it was called, seemed to Barbara to be very
like what French houses must have been long ago, and she imagined grand
ladies of the Empire time sweeping up the long flight of steps to the
terrace, and across the polished floors. The _salon_, with its thick
terra-cotta paper, and gilded chairs set in stiff rows along the walls,
fascinated her too, and she half expected the lady of the house to come
in, clad in heavy brocade of ancient pattern. But everything about the
lady of the house was very modern, and Barbara thought Mademoiselle
Therese's garments had never looked so ugly. The girl enjoyed sitting
down to a meal which was really well served, and she found that the
lawyer, though clever, was by no means alarming, and that his wife made
a very charming hostess.

Mademoiselle Therese was radiating pride and triumph at having been
able to introduce her charge into such a "distinguished" family, and as
each dish was brought upon the table, she shot a glance across at
Barbara as much as to say, "See what we can do!--these are _my_
friends!"

Poor Mademoiselle Therese! After all, when she enjoyed such things so
much, it was a pity, Barbara thought, that she could not have them at
home.

She was enjoying, too, discussing various matters with the lawyer, for
discussion was to her like the very breath of life.

"She will discuss with the cat if there is no one else by," her sister
had once said dryly, "and will argue with Death when he comes to fetch
her."

At present the topic was schools, and Barbara and Madame Dubois sat
quietly by, listening.

"I am not learned," madame whispered to the girl, with a little shrug,
"and I know that nothing she can say will shake my husband's
opinion--therefore, I let her speak."

Mademoiselle was very anxious that his little girl should go to school,
and was pointing out the advantages of such education to the lawyer.

The latter smiled incredulously. "Would you have me send her to the
convent school, where they use the same-knife and fork all the week
round, and wash them only once a week?" he asked contemptuously.

"No," mademoiselle agreed. "As you know, Marie used to be there, and
learned very little--nothing much, except to sew. No, I would not send
her to the convent school. But there are others. A young English
friend of mine, now--Mademoiselle Barbara knows her too--she is at a
very select establishment--just about six girls--and so well w