"Very dramatic, sir! Though, indeed, you missed an opportunity,

and--gracious heaven, how he frowns!" A woman's voice, sharp,

high-pitched, imperious.

Barnabas started, and glancing up, beheld an ancient lady, very

small and very upright; her cheeks were suspiciously pink, her curls

suspiciously dark and luxuriant, but her eyes were wonderfully young

and handsome; one slender mittened hand rested upon the ivory head

of a stick, and in the other she carried a small fan.

"Now, he stares!" she exclaimed, as she met his look. "Lud, how he

stares! As if I were a ghost, or a goblin, instead of only an old

woman with raddled cheeks and a wig. Oh, yes! I wear a wig, sir, and

very hideous I look without it! But even I was young once upon a

time--many, many years ago, and quite as beautiful as She, indeed,

rather more so, I think,--and I should have treated you exactly as

She did--only more so,--I mean Cleone. Your blonde women are either

too cold or overpassionate,--I know, for my hair was as yellow as

Cleone's, hundreds of years ago, and I think, more abundant. To-day,

being only a dyed brunette, I am neither too cold nor over-passionate,

and I tell you, sir, you deserved it, every word."

Here Barnabas rose, and, finding nothing to say, bowed.

"But," continued the ancient lady, sweeping him with a quick,

approving gaze, "I like your face, and y-e-s, you have a very good

leg. You also possess a tongue, perhaps, and can speak?"

"Given the occasion, madam," said Barnabas, smiling.

"Ha, sir! do I talk so much then? Well, perhaps I do, for when a

woman ceases to talk she's dead, and I'm very much alive indeed. So

you may give me your arm, sir, and listen to me, and drop an

occasional remark while I take breath,--your arm, sir!" And here the

small, ancient lady held out a small, imperious hand, while her

handsome young eyes smiled up into his.

"Madam, you honor me!"

"But I am only an old woman,--with a wig!"

"Age is always honorable, madam."

"Now that is very prettily said, indeed you improve, sir. Do you

know who I am?"

"No, madam; but I can guess."

"Ah, well,--you shall talk to me. Now, sir,--begin. Talk to me of

Cleone."

"Madam--I had rather not."

"Eh, sir,--you won't?"

"No, madam."

"Why, then, I will!" Here the ancient lady glanced up at Barnabas

with a malicious little smile. "Let me see, now--what were her words?

'Spy,' I think. Ah, yes--'a creeping spy,' 'a fool' and 'a coward.'

Really, I don't think I could have bettered that--even in my best

days,--especially the 'creeping spy.'"

"Madam," said Barnabas in frowning surprise, "you were listening?"




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