"But she seems to me a very unusual person to be a servant, Gene," Barbara remarked argumentatively. "Of course, I know she was wearing a maid's apron and cap so that her hair was completely hidden, and her dark glasses concealed her eyes. Still, I could see very plainly the woman you call 'Louise' is not an everyday servant. She spoke to Dick and me with perfect self-possession, although she did seem nervous. But it is ridiculous to think one can hide a personality under such a slight disguise."

Barbara spoke pettishly. She and Eugenia were wandering about the big house together. They were looking over the arrangements Eugenia had made for her recently acquired family. These were, of course, of the most primitive kind. There[Pg 70] were about eighteen army cots in the bedrooms, some light coverings, and a few wooden chairs. In the big front room downstairs long planks had been laid across wooden supports. This formed a large and informal dining room table. Yet by accident this same room contained a magnificent Flemish oak sideboard that had been left in the house by the former owners of the place.

However, Barbara and Eugenia were in Eugenia's own bedroom when the present conversation started. They had already seen the lower floor of the house, where Barbara had been introduced to Eugenia's cook, who was a plain Flemish woman. But it was the history of the housemaid, a woman of between forty and fifty, whose identity Barbara was questioning.

In reply Eugenia gazed at her friend earnestly for a few moments and then slowly shook her head.

"These are war times, Bab. I thought you and I had agreed long ago to ask no unnecessary questions."

Eugenia had seated herself on the side[Pg 71] of her cot bed, Barbara was on a high wooden box, which served as a chair, near the window.

She did not reply at first, but this was merely because she was thinking, not because she intended to consider Eugenia's suggestion.

She had one foot crossed under her, while the other swung in the air. Her brow was wrinkled into a painfully heavy frown for so miniature a person. Unconsciously Barbara pulled meditatively at a brown curl that had escaped from the knot at the back of her head.

During her long study Eugenia smiled at her guest. She too could not grow accustomed to considering Barbara as responsible a person as the rest of the Red Cross girls. This was only because of her appearance, for she had learned to have faith in her.

All of a sudden Barbara began talking again, just where she had left off.

"It is all very well to preach, Gene, about not asking unnecessary questions because we are living and working in war[Pg 72] times. But you know very well we never expected that point of view to apply to asking questions of each other. We came abroad as strangers, except that Mildred and I knew each other slightly, but since then we have become friends. At least, we care a great deal about each other's interests. Now I don't think for a minute we have the right to keep secrets from one another. That is, unless they happen to be of a kind one simply can't bear to tell." And at this Barbara hesitated for an instant.

"But about this woman, this 'Louise', we were discussing. Eugenia, you know perfectly well she isn't a real servant. I am dreadfully afraid you are hiding some one and it may get you into serious trouble," the younger girl continued, making no effort to hide her anxiety. "Really, you ought to be careful, Gene. You came to Europe to act as a Red Cross nurse, not to interfere with questions of government. If you do, you may be put into prison, or something else dreadful. Do you know I thought all along it was funny your[Pg 73] deciding so suddenly to give up your Red Cross work and then knowing exactly where to find a house. Well, I might as well tell you," Barbara now got off her stool and came over and put a hand on either of her friend's shoulders, "I mean to find out what you are trying to hide if I possibly can," she concluded.

Eugenia did not stir. But she let her own dark eyes rest gravely upon Bab's blue ones.

"Please don't," she asked. "I suppose I might have guessed that you would have discovered there is something unusual about my family. But, Bab, I want you to promise me on your honor that you will not mention your suspicion to any one—not to Nona, or Mildred, or Dick Thornton. I am trying in a fashion to help some one who is in deep trouble. As you have guessed, she is a woman, and that was her little boy, Jan, whom you saw standing by me when you arrived. But if questions are asked of you, Barbara, you know absolutely nothing of this. I prefer to manage my own affairs."

[Pg 74]

Eugenia made this announcement in her haughtiest fashion. However, her companion was not deceived. Eugenia simply meant that if disaster followed her attempt to shield a prisoner, she alone must bear the penalty.

Quietly for another moment, still with her hands on the older girl's shoulders, Barbara continued to consider the situation.

"I won't make you any promises, Gene," she answered at last. "I must decide what to do later. But I won't tell Nona, or Mildred, or Dick, as I can't see any special point in confiding in them at present. However, I am not willing to stand aside and let you run deliberately into danger. It was all very well your taking care of Captain Castaigne. He was desperately ill. Your finding him wounded on the battlefield was so romantic. But this is quite a different affair. We were under certain obligations to the Countess Amelie, while this 'Louise' and her 'Jan' are utter strangers. I think I'll go this instant and tell the woman she has no right to make you undergo such risks."

[Pg 75]

Again Eugenia did not stir, but this time neither did Barbara.

"You will do no such thing, my dear; you must let me manage my life for myself," she declared quietly instead. "Of course, I am not going to take any more chances than I must. Come now, let us go downstairs and have tea. You and Dick were angels to have come on such a long journey and you must be nearly famished. I have managed to get a few supplies in Brussels and I have sent to Boston for a great many more. So when you girls are able to visit me, we can at least regale ourselves with a Boston Tea Party."

Eugenia put an arm across Barbara's shoulder as they moved toward the door.

A few feet further on the younger girl stopped. "Are you very rich, Eugenia Peabody?" she demanded. "Unless you are, it is perfectly mad for you to have undertaken the expenses of this household. Most of these children have not had anything to eat for a year and must be nearly famished."

[Pg 76]

Eugenia nodded. "I suppose I am fairly wealthy, although I find it hard to realize it, as I grew up such a poor girl."

"Then why—why, Eugenia (I have been simply dying to ask you this ever since you told us you were rich)—why did you wear such old-fashioned—if you will excuse me—such perfectly awful clothes?"

Barbara fairly shuddered, recalling how she and Nona and Mildred had suffered over Eugenia's ancient Alpine hat.

But Eugenia only laughed. She had been sensitive enough over the other girls' attitude toward her appearance when they first knew one another. But Barbara's way of expressing things was too absurd.

"I told you I had been so poor I didn't know how to spend money," she explained. "Besides, I have always been so plain it never occurred to me that clothes could make much difference in my appearance."

"Goose!" Barbara looked up at Eugenia searchingly. "If ever this wretched war is over, I mean to go with you to Paris and make you spend heaps and heaps of money on clothes. Nona and I have [Pg 77]decided that we could make you look quite stunning if we had the money to spend. Then I should insist that you pay a visit to the Chateau d'Amelie. The Countess insisted you never could look like anything but a New England old maid, no matter what exquisite toilets you wore."

Then the younger girl's cheeks grew so hot that she could actually feel the tears being forced into her eyes.

"I wonder if I shall ever learn what to say and what not to say, Gene?" she asked wretchedly. "Oh, don't tell me you don't mind what I say. That is not the point. The trouble is I can't learn when to hold my tongue. I only wish the Countess could have seen you when Dick and I arrived today."

Eugenia was not wearing her nurse's uniform. Instead, she had fished an old gray crepon dress out of her trunk. But in order to make it more attractive for her little guests, she wore a white fichu about her neck. Then her hair was wound in two heavy braids around her head.

"There isn't any particular reason why[Pg 78] I should deny being an old maid," she returned. "Only I am sorry that you girls discussed my appearance with a stranger."

Again Barbara flushed. "The Countess isn't a stranger to us, Gene," she apologized, "and I don't think you should feel that way toward her since you and Captain Castaigne have grown to be good friends. I don't see how you can still consider him unattractive. But you are terribly prejudiced, Eugenia."

The two girls had left Eugenia's bedroom and were now walking toward the back stairs.

All of a sudden, when Eugenia chanced to be unconscious of her companion, Barbara moved away. She at once placed her hand on the knob of a door leading into a room at the back of the house.

"Whose room is this, Eugenia? May I go inside and see?" she queried.

Her hand was upon the knob, but, of course, she made no effort to enter the room, awaiting the other girl's reply. She was interested merely because this seemed[Pg 79] to be about the only room that Eugenia had not exhibited.

But Eugenia immediately looked unaccountably angry. Yet she had kept her temper perfectly through all Barbara's annoying speeches!

"Please don't attempt to go in that room, Barbara!" she ordered sharply, quite in the manner and temper of the former Eugenia. "If I had desired you to see the room I should have taken you into it myself."

"Oh, I beg your pardon," Barbara replied, angry with herself for the sudden lump that had risen in her throat. "I suppose this room is Bluebeard's chamber, or the place where you keep your ghost locked up. I did not mean to interfere."

"The room is not locked and is entirely empty," Eugenia replied. However, she must have parted with her New England conscience at the moment of making this statement. For Barbara had distinctly heard some one moving about inside the room. And quite by accident, as her hand turned the knob, she realized that the door was locked.

[Pg 80]

In the yard the two girls found Dick Thornton playing with the children. He had discovered some ivy growing on one side of the old house. Therefore, each girl and boy had been decorated with an ivy leaf, as if it were a badge of honor. Moreover, Dick also wore a leaf in his buttonhole.

"Louise" soon brought the tea, which Dick drank with satisfaction. Barbara tried to pretend that she enjoyed hers, but it was extremely difficult. Not that she was angry with Eugenia, for her discomfort went deeper than that. The fact is she was frightened for her.

Some one more important than "Louise" was being guarded by Eugenia. Who on earth the man or woman could be, Barbara could not even hazard a guess. Yet it must be some one whose safety her friend considered of great importance, for had she not deliberately lied to her?

Certainly Eugenia was facing a grave situation! At present no one suspected her of treason. She was simply regarded as an eccentric American woman, who [Pg 81]desired to spend her money in caring for the destitute Belgian children. No outsider had yet visited her "Hotel des Enfants." But, of course, once the news that something unusual was going on in her establishment reached the German authorities, Eugenia could not hope to escape their vigilance a second time.

On the trip back into Brussels Dick Thornton found his companion unusually quiet. He was under the impression that it was because of the change in her once friendly attitude toward him. He was sorry, because he very much wanted to talk to her about a personal matter, but never found a sufficiently intimate moment.

Only once did she arouse herself in the effort to make conversation.

"Why do you happen to be wearing that spray of ivy so proudly, Dick?" she inquired carelessly. "I was amused at your decorating all the Belgian children with leaves."

Dick glanced carefully about, but the tram car was almost empty.

"Don't you understand what the ivy[Pg 82] means?" he asked. "I expect it was pretty absurd of me. But the other day the German commandant ordered that no Belgian should wear his national colors. Indeed, they were not to be displayed anywhere. Well, the result is, that almost everybody one meets upon the street has been wearing a leaf of ivy lately."

Dick took the ivy spray from his coat and handed it to his companion.

"Do you know what ivy stands for?" he asked. "It means attachment, faithful unto death. Won't you wear this?"

But although Barbara took the shaded, dark green leaf into her hand and looked at it for a moment, she slowly shook her head.

"There is something charming and pathetic in the idea, Dick. Remember to tell the story to Mildred and Nona. And give the ivy to Nona; I am sure she would love to have it," Barbara finished, as she gave the leaf back to her companion.