on fled. She fidgeted about for some
time, saying nothing of importance, then at last turned round and began
hastily--

"I did a very silly thing once long ago, Barbara, and to-day I have
done what I am afraid people may think still sillier--I have promised
to marry Mr. Morton."

Whereupon Barbara seized her rapturously. "Oh, aunt," she cried, "I'm
so glad, just gladder than of anything else I could have heard."

"It--it is a great relief, Barbara," she said unsteadily, "to have you
take it so. I--was afraid you might laugh. You know, it needs some
courage for a person of my age to do a thing like that. It is
different for a girl like you, but I could not have done it, had I not
felt that since he desired it so urgently, I ought to right the wrong I
had done him long ago."

"You can't help being very happy, aunt," said Barbara, "I'm sure, with
such a nice man as Mr. Morton. The only regret _I_ have is that you've
lost so much of the time----"

Then, seeing her aunt's face, she felt inclined to strike herself for
having spoken foolishly.

"Mr. Morton is in the garden," her aunt said after a moment. "It would
be nice if you went down and saw him." And Barbara sped away.

That interview was apparently entirely satisfactory, for Miss Britton,
enjoining them later, found Barbara had just issued an invitation in
her mother's name and that it had been accepted. "And, of course, you
will come too, aunt," the girl added.

There was one part in the arrangements that Barbara begged to be left
to her, and that was the letter home telling the news.

"You see, Aunt Anne," she said, "I naturally feel as if I had rather a
big share in the matter."

"I think surely it was Denys Morton's letter that brought me," Miss
Britton corrected; "but write if you like, Barbara." And, indeed, she
was rather glad to be relieved from the responsibility.

CHAPTER XX.

THE CODA.

If Barbara had been at home when her letter arrived, she would have
been quite content with the excitement it caused. At first Frances and
Donald were inclined to think it a huge joke, but having read to the
end of Barbara's letter they felt rather differently. Aunt Anne had
acted more wisely than she knew in allowing her niece to be the one to
write and tell of her engagement.

"Of course," Donald said in his decided way, "we must do the proper
thing by her and treat her nicely--for after all, Frances, she's been
rather a brick about Barba