Barbara in Brittany | Page 5

on their
shoulders. But they were quite determined she should have a cheerful
"send-off" next morning, so they bribed the children with promises of
sweets if they did not cry, and they succeeded in giving her quite a
hilarious good-bye at the station.
After the train had gone, however, and they turned homewards, Frances
felt that if she had not promised Barbara to help her mother she would
have hidden herself in the attic and cried, although that would have
been so "horribly babyish" for a girl of twelve that she knew she would
have felt ashamed of herself afterwards; though perhaps, her pillow
could have told tales of a grief confided to it that the gay-hearted
Frances did not usually indulge in.

CHAPTER II.
NO. 14 RUE ST. SUPLICE.
Meanwhile, Barbara and her aunt pursued their journey, and in due
time arrived at Newhaven, where the first thing they were told was that
the tide was unusually low at Dieppe, which would prevent them
entering that harbour, and therefore they were not going to leave
Newhaven for another hour and a half. Aunt Anne gazed in indignation
upon their informant, and declared it was scandalous that a boat, timed
to leave at a certain hour, should be so irregular and unpunctual;
whereupon the captain, shrugging his shoulders, said that the lady
should complain to the moon about the tides rather than to him.
They managed to fill in the time very well with lunch, however, and
after a little grumbling, Aunt Anne resigned herself to Fate, though she
was glad enough when they finally steamed out of the harbour. Miss
Britton was not a very good sailor, and in preparation for "the voyage,"
as she called the crossing, had accumulated great stores of knowledge
as to how to treat seasickness. She established herself on the upper deck,
let down a deck-chair as low as it would go, and replacing her hat by a
weird little Tam o' Shanter, covered her eyes with a handkerchief.
"To avoid seasickness, Barbara," she said, "you must lie as flat as
possible, keep the eyes closed, and breathe in correspondence with the
ship's motion--though," she added, "I really cannot tell at present which
is its motion; perhaps there will be more when we get farther out."
Barbara chuckled, but deferred making similar preparations until the
motion was more defined, for she was much too interested in what was
going on around her to close her eyes to it all.
Aunt Anne asked her at intervals if it was getting rougher, but though
her niece assured her there were no signs of such a thing, she did not
venture to sit up until they were quite near Dieppe.
"Oh, aunt!" Barbara exclaimed joyfully, "just look at all the officials in
their high-peaked hats. Don't they look nice, so Frenchy and foreign!"

"You would hardly expect them to look English," Aunt Anne returned
drily, and began to gather together her belongings preparatory to
leaving the boat.
"It is some time since I have been in France, Barbara," she exclaimed,
"having been quite contented with our own beautiful land; but I
remember it was best to be very quick in going to the train so as to get
good seats. Follow me closely, child."
Barbara obediently did as she was told, and having got safely through
the troubles of the douane, they chose their carriage and proceeded to
arrange their possessions.
"My umbrella!" Aunt Anne cried suddenly, looking anxiously on the
racks and under the seat. "Barbara, I must have left it on the boat; why
did you not remind me? You must just run back for it now--but don't let
the train go without you. Run, child, run!"
Barbara obediently hurried away, and after a halting and somewhat
lengthy explanation on the quay, was allowed to go on board again, and
spied the missing umbrella on the deck. When she returned, the train
had been moved higher up, and she could not distinguish the carriage
anywhere. The guard was already beginning to wave the signal, and
Barbara felt she was a lost passenger, when a dark, stout little man
dashed up to her and seized her by the arm.
"Par ici, par ici," he cried, "votre maman vous attend, mademoiselle,"
and they flew down the platform with the guard shouting warnings
behind them. They were barely in time, and Barbara sank panting into
her seat.
"Fancy!" Aunt Anne cried indignantly--"fancy getting lost like that! It
just shows that you are not fit to look after children when you cannot
manage an umbrella!"
Barbara was too breathless to reply and too much amused, perhaps,
really to mind. The country was pretty enough, but it soon began to
grow dusk, and they wondered when they would arrive in Paris. The

train