n't speak to him, I suppose?" she asked.

"Yes; he sent for me, and talked a lot. In fact, he talked too much,
because I didn't hear a note of the second act."

Aunt Barbara became infinitely more interested.

"Tell me all about it, Michael," she said. "What did he talk about?"

"Everything, as far as I can remember, England, Ashbridge, armies,
navies, music. Hermann says he cast pearls before swine--"

"And his tone, his attitude?" she asked.

"Towards us?--towards England? Immensely friendly, and most inquisitive.
I was never asked so many questions in so short a time."

Aunt Barbara suddenly turned to Falbe.

"And you?" she asked. "Were you with Michael?"

"No, Lady Barbara. I had no pearls."

"And are you naturalised English?" she asked.

"No; I am German."

She slid swiftly off the topic.

"Do you wonder I ask, with your talking English so perfectly?" she said.
"You should hear me talking French when we are entertaining Ambassadors
and that sort of persons. I talk it so fast that nobody can understand a
word I say. That is a defensive measure, you must observe, because even
if I talked it quite slowly they would understand just as little. But
they think it is the pace that stupefies them, and they leave me in a
curious, dazed condition. And now Miss Falbe and I are going to leave
you two. Be rather a long time, dear Michael, so that Mr. Falbe can tell
you what he thinks of me, and his sister shall tell me what she thinks
of you. Afterwards you and I will tell each other, if it is not too
fearful."

This did not express quite accurately Lady Barbara's intentions, for she
chiefly wanted to find out what she thought of Sylvia.

"And you are great friends, you three?" she said as they settled
themselves for the prolonged absence of the two men.

Sylvia smiled; she smiled, Aunt Barbara noticed, almost entirely with
her eyes, using her mouth only when it came to laughing; but her eyes
smiled quite charmingly.

"That's always rather a rash thing to pronounce on," she said. "I can
tell you for certain that Hermann and I are both very fond of him, but
it is presumptuous for us to say that he is equally devoted to us."

"My dear, there is no call for modesty about it," said Barbara. "Between
you--for I imagine it is you who have done it--between you you have made
a perfectly different creature of the boy. You've made him flower."

Sylvia became quite grave.

"Oh, I do hope he likes us," she said. "He