Download the full version of the testbank or solution manual at

https://testbankdeal.com

Statistics For Psychology 6th Edition Aron

Solutions Manual

https://testbankdeal.com/product/statistics-for-
psychology-6th-edition-aron-solutions-manual/

Explore and download more testbank or solution manual

at https://testbankdeal.com
 Recommended digital products (PDF, EPUB, MOBI) that
you can download immediately if you are interested.

Statistics For Psychology 6th Edition Arthur Aron Test

Bank

https://testbankdeal.com/product/statistics-for-psychology-6th-
edition-arthur-aron-test-bank/

testbankdeal.com

Applied Statistics and Probability for Engineers 6th

Edition Montgomery Solutions Manual

https://testbankdeal.com/product/applied-statistics-and-probability-
for-engineers-6th-edition-montgomery-solutions-manual/

testbankdeal.com

Basic Statistics for Business and Economics Canadian 6th

Edition Lind Solutions Manual

https://testbankdeal.com/product/basic-statistics-for-business-and-
economics-canadian-6th-edition-lind-solutions-manual/

testbankdeal.com

Essentials of Physical Anthropology Discovering Our

Origins 2nd Edition Clark Test Bank

https://testbankdeal.com/product/essentials-of-physical-anthropology-
discovering-our-origins-2nd-edition-clark-test-bank/

testbankdeal.com
Leadership Research Findings Practice and Skills 8th
Edition DuBrin Test Bank

https://testbankdeal.com/product/leadership-research-findings-
practice-and-skills-8th-edition-dubrin-test-bank/

testbankdeal.com

New Zealand Financial Accounting 6th Edition Deega Test

Bank

https://testbankdeal.com/product/new-zealand-financial-accounting-6th-
edition-deega-test-bank/

testbankdeal.com

Globalization Diversity Geography of a Changing World 5th

Edition Rowntree Test Bank

https://testbankdeal.com/product/globalization-diversity-geography-of-
a-changing-world-5th-edition-rowntree-test-bank/

testbankdeal.com

Marketing An Introduction 4th Edition Masterson Test Bank

https://testbankdeal.com/product/marketing-an-introduction-4th-
edition-masterson-test-bank/

testbankdeal.com

Corporate Partnership Estate and Gift Taxation 2013 7th

Edition Pratt Test Bank

https://testbankdeal.com/product/corporate-partnership-estate-and-
gift-taxation-2013-7th-edition-pratt-test-bank/

testbankdeal.com
Personal Finance 2nd Edition Walker Test Bank

https://testbankdeal.com/product/personal-finance-2nd-edition-walker-
test-bank/

testbankdeal.com
Chapter 8
The t Test for Independent Means

Instructorʹs Summary of Chapter

Distribution of differences between means. The main difference in procedure between a t test for
independent means and a t test for a single sample is that the comparison distribution is now a
distribution of differences between means of samples. This distribution can be thought of as arising in
two steps: (a) each population of individuals produces a distribution of means, and then (b) a new
distribution is created, which consists of differences between pairs of means selected from these two
distributions.
Mean and shape of the distribution of means. The distribution of differences between means has a
mean of 0 and will be a t distribution with degrees of freedom equal to the total degrees of freedom
contributed by each sample.
Standard deviation of the distribution of means (and the pooled estimate of the population variance). You
figure the standard deviation of the distribution of means in several steps. (a) You use each sample to
estimate the population variance. (b) Since the populations are assumed to have the same variance, you
figure a pooled estimate as a weighted average. (c) You divide the pooled estimate by each sampleʹs
number of scores to determine the variances of their associated distribution of means. (d) You add these
two variances to get the variance of the distribution of differences between means. And (e) you take the
square root.
Assumptions. The t test for independent means assumes the populations are normal and have
equal variances. However, it is robust to moderate violations of these assumptions. The t test for
independent means also assumes that all scores are independent (between and within groups). When this
latter assumption is violated, an alternative testing procedure must be used.
Effect size and power. Effect size (d) for a t test for independent means is the difference between the
means divided by the pooled estimate of the population standard deviation. For a given number of
participants, power is greatest when sample sizes of the two groups are equal. Advanced topic: If sample
sizes are unequal, you use the harmonic mean of the two sample sizes when looking up power.
Controversy: The problem of too many t tests. When many significance tests are conducted in the
same study, such as a series of t tests comparing two groups on various measures, the possibility that any
one of the comparisons may be significant by chance is greater than .05 (or whatever level is being used to
test each comparison). There is controversy about just how to adjust for this problem, though all agree
that results should be interpreted cautiously.
How the procedures of this chapter are reported in research articles. Like the other t tests, research
articles typically describe t tests for independent means either (a) in the text, using a standard format,
such as ʺt (29) = 3.41, p < .01,ʺ or (b) in a table listing a series of results in which the t score itself may be
omitted and only an asterisk is used to indicate which comparisons are significant.
Box 8‐1. Monte Carlo methods: When mathematics becomes just an experiment and statistics depend on a
game of chance. Monte Carlo studies are procedures in which a large number of random numbers are
generated to test some mathematical or statistical question—such as the robustness of a statistical test
under various conditions of violating its assumptions. This box describes the history and some
applications of these procedures.

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 197
 List of Transparencies

8.1 Noisy Environment Example: data and calculations

8.2 Noisy Environment Example: steps of hypothesis testing
8.3 Illustrations of Different Distributions (Figure 8‐1)
8.4 Skills Training Example: steps of hypothesis testing
8.5 Skills Training Example: data and calculations (Table 8‐4)
8.6 Skills Training Example: illustrations of distributions (Figure 8‐3)
8.7 Steps for a t Test for Independent Means (Table 8‐3)
8.8 Love‐Birth Order Example: data and calculations
8.9 Love‐Birth Order Example: steps of hypothesis testing
8.10 t Test for Independent Means: (A) power (Table 8‐5), and (B) needed sample sizes (Table 8‐6)
8.11 Harmonic Mean: formula and examples
8.12 Review of the Three t Tests (Table 8‐7)

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 198
 Lecture 8.1: Introduction to the t Test for Independent Means

Materials

Lecture outline
Transparencies 7.10, 7.18, and 8.1 through 8.7

Outline for Blackboard

I. Review/Last Assignment
II. Between‐Subject Designs
III. Estimating Population Variance (S2pooled)
IV. Distribution of Differences Between Means
V. The Hypothesis Test
VI. Review This Class

Instructorʹs Lecture Outline

I. Review/Last Assignment
A. Idea of descriptive and inferential statistics.
B. Review t test for a single sample: Show TRANSPARENCY 7.10.
C. Review t test for dependent means: Show TRANSPARENCY 7.18.

II. Between‐Subject Designs

A. Principle: A study with two different groups of participants, such
as an experimental and a control group.
B. Show TRANSPARENCY 8.1 (without discussing computations):
1. This is a new situation.
2. You cannot compute difference scores as they are not the same
participants.
3. In fact, the conditions do not even have the same number of participants!
C. The hypothesis testing question: Are the means of these two
groups different enough to permit you to conclude that the two
populations they represent have different means?
D. The procedure for testing this is the t test for independent means.
E. Populations and hypotheses: Show and discuss TRANSPARENCY
8.2, Step 1.

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 199
III. Estimating Population Variance (S2pooled)
A. This is part of Step 2 of the hypothesis testing process.
B. You assume that both populations have the same variance.
C. Thus, you can estimate the variance from each sample.
D. You then average the two estimates.
E. However, if the Ns are different, the larger sample provides a
more accurate estimate.
F. Thus, you use a weighted average, giving emphasis in proportion
to the degrees of freedom each sample contributes.
G. This weighted estimate is called the pooled estimate.
H. Show and discuss TRANSPARENCY 8.1 (up to/including pooled
estimate calculation).

IV. Distribution of Differences Between Means

A. The crucial result of a study comparing two groups is a difference
between the means of the two samples.
B. Thus, the comparison distribution has to be a distribution of
differences between means of samples from the two populations.
C. This is called a distribution of differences between means.
D. Logic of distribution: Show TRANSPARENCY 8.3:
1. Create two distributions of means, one for each population.
2. Take a mean from each distribution of means, and compute the difference.
3. Do this many times and make a distribution of these differences.
E. Its mean will be 0—since under the null hypothesis, the means
being subtracted from each other come from populations with the
same mean.
F. You figure its variance as follows:
1. Find the variance of each distribution of means in the usual way.
2. Sum these variances to get S2difference.
3. Show and discuss remainder of TRANSPARENCY 8.1.
G. It will be a t distribution because it is based on an estimated
population variance (that is pooled). Its df is the total df on which
that estimate is based.
H. Show and discuss TRANSPARENCY 8.2, Step 2.

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 200
V. The Hypothesis Test
A. Show and discuss remainder of TRANSPARENCY 8.2, noting
slight changes from previous t test procedures, and emphasizing
how much is the same.
B. Skills training example: Show and discuss TRANSPARENCIES
8.4, 8.5, and 8.6.

VI. Review This Class

A. Use Blackboard outline.
B. Review steps for t test for independent means: Show
TRANSPARENCY 8.7.

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 201
 Lecture 8.2: Applying the t Test for Independent Means

Materials

Lecture outline
Transparencies 8.1 through 8.3, and 8.7 through 8.12

Outline for Blackboard

I. Review/Last Assignment
II. Assumptions
III. Effect Size and Power
IV. Review This Class

Instructorʹs Lecture Outline

I. Review/Last Assignment
A. Idea of descriptive and inferential statistics.
B. Basic logic of the t test for independent means: Show
TRANSPARENCIES 8.3 and 8.7.
C. Noisy environment example: Show TRANSPARENCIES 8.1 and
8.2.
D. NEW love‐birth order example: Show and discuss
TRANSPARENCIES 8.8 and 8.9.

II. Assumptions
A. Populations must be normal.
1. Monte Carlo studies indicate test is robust to moderate violations,
especially with large Ns (each group greater than 30).
2. But it is definitely a problem when populations are skewed in opposite
directions.
B. Populations must have the same variance (which is assumed for
the pooled estimate).
1. Monte Carlo studies indicate test is robust to moderate violations.
2. But it is definitely a problem when sample variances are 4:1 (or a greater
discrepancy).

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 202
 C. All scores are independent (between and within groups).
1. Example: people who see the same therapist will have scores more closely
linked than people who see different therapists (all of which provide the
same treatment).
2. If scores are not independent, then the incorrect df is used, and a more
stringent significance level is applied (which increases Type II errors).
3. Other testing procedures should be used (e.g., multi‐level modeling) when
this assumption is violated.
D. Especially problematic to use this test when more than one
assumption is violated.

III. Effect Size and Power

A. Effect size:
1. For a completed study, estimated as d = (M1 – M2) / Spooled.
2. As before: small effect = .20, medium effect = .50, and large effect = .80.
B. Power:
1. Found in tables. Show and discuss TRANSPARENCY 8.10.A.
2. Another table shows how many participants are needed for 80% power (a
standard, desired level). Show and discuss TRANSPARENCY 8.10.B.
3. Advanced topic: For the same overall number of participants, power is
greatest with equal Ns.
a. For unequal Ns, the effective N for computing power is closer to the lower N (which
is the harmonic mean).
b. Harmonic mean: Show and discuss TRANSPARENCY 8.11.

IV. Review This Class

A. Use Blackboard outline.
B. Review the three kinds of t tests: Show and discuss
TRANSPARENCY 8.12.

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 203
TRANSPARENCY 8.1

Noisy Environment Example

(fictional data)

Experiment comparing task performance of participants tested in a quiet environment

versus participants tested in a noisy environment.

Data and Computations

QUIET CONDITION (#1) NOISY CONDITION (#2)

ID X X–M (X – M)2 ID X X–M (X – M)2
RX 22 1 1 KA 17 0 0
BL 20 –1 1 BI 15 –2 4
JC 23 2 4 OF 16 –1 1
DM 21 0 0 BK 20 3 9
FM 19 –2 4

N=5 ΣX = 105 SS = 10 N=4 ΣX = 68 SS = 14

df = 4 M = 21 S = SS / df = 2.50
2 df = 3 M = 17 S = SS / df = 4.67
2

M 1 = 21, S12 = 2.50, df1 = 4 M 2 = 17, S 22 = 4.67, df 2 = 3

Calculations for Step 2 of Hypothesis Testing Procedure

Degrees of freedom:
df total = df1 + df 2 = 4 + 3 = 7
Pooled estimate of the population variance:
df1 df 2 4 3
2
S pooled = ( S12 ) + ( S 22 ) = (2.50) + (4.67) = 1.43 + 2.00 = 3.43
df total df total 7 7

Estimated variance for each populationʹs distribution of means:

2 2
S pooled 3.43 S pooled 3.43
S M1 =
2
= = 0.69 ; S M 2 =
2
= = 0.86
N1 5 N2 4
Variance and standard deviation of distribution of differences between means:
2
S difference = S M2 1 + S M2 2 = 0.69 + 0.86 = 1.55
S difference = S difference
2
= 1.55 = 1.24

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 204
TRANSPARENCY 8.2

Noisy Environment Example

(fictional data)

Experiment comparing task performance of participants tested in a quiet environment versus

participants tested in a noisy environment.

n Restate question as a research hypothesis and a null hypothesis about the populations.

Population 1: People tested under quiet conditions.

Population 2: People tested under noisy conditions.

Research hypothesis: Those tested under quiet conditions will score better (that is,
Population 1 will have a higher mean). (μ1 > μ2)
Null hypothesis: Those tested under quiet conditions will not score better. (μ1 ≤ μ2)

o Determine the characteristics of the comparison distribution.

[calculations shown separately]

Estimated population variance: S2pooled = 3.43
Comparison distribution: M = 0; Sdifference = 1.24; shape = t distribution (dftotal = 7)

p Determine the cutoff sample score on the comparison distribution at which the null
hypothesis should be rejected.

.05 level, one‐tailed, df = 7 Æ t needed = +1.895

q Determine your sampleʹs score on the comparison distribution.

t = (M1 – M2) / Sdifference Æ t = (21 – 17) / 1.24 = 4 / 1.24 = 3.23

r Decide whether to reject the null hypothesis.

Score at Step 4 (t = 3.23) is more extreme than cutoff at Step 3 (t = 1.895). Therefore, reject
null hypothesis; the research hypothesis is supported. People tested under quiet conditions
perform better compared with those tested under noisy conditions.

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 205
TRANSPARENCY 8.3

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 206
Visit https://testbankdead.com
now to explore a rich
collection of testbank,
solution manual and enjoy
exciting offers!
TRANSPARENCY 8.4

Skills Training Example

(from text)

n Restate question as a research hypothesis and a null hypothesis about the populations.

Population 1: Individuals who could not hold a job, who then participate in the
special job skills program.
Population 2: Individuals who could not hold a job, who then participate in an
ordinary job skills program.

Research hypothesis: Population 1 is different from Population 2. (μ1 ≠ μ2)

Null hypothesis: Population 1 is the same as Population 2. (μ1 = μ2)

o Determine the characteristics of the comparison distribution.

[calculations shown separately]

Estimated population variance: S2pooled = 4.16
Comparison distribution: M = 0; Sdifference = 1.10; shape = t distribution (dftotal = 12)

p Determine the cutoff sample score on the comparison distribution at which the null
hypothesis should be rejected.

.05 level, two‐tailed, df = 12 Æ t needed = ±2.179

q Determine your sampleʹs score on the comparison distribution.

t = (M1 – M2) / Sdifference Æ t = (6 – 3) / 1.10 = 3 / 1.10 = 2.73

r Decide whether to reject the null hypothesis.

Score at Step 4 (t = 2.73) is more extreme than cutoff at Step 3 (t = 2.179). Therefore, reject
null hypothesis; the research hypothesis is supported. The new special job skills program is
more effective than the ordinary job skills program.

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 207
TRANSPARENCY 8.5

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 208
TRANSPARENCY 8.6

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 209
TRANSPARENCY 8.7

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 210
TRANSPARENCY 8.8

Love‐Birth Order Example

(class questionnaire data)

First‐born and later‐born students responded to the question, ʺDo you tend to fall in
love hard?ʺ

Data and Computations:

First‐borns Later‐borns
N M S 2 N M S2
42 4.21 4.27 57 4.93 3.25

Calculations for Step 2 of Hypothesis Testing Procedure

Degrees of freedom:

df total = df1 + df 2 = 41 + 56 = 97

Pooled estimate of the population variance:

df1 df 2 41 56
2
S pooled = ( S12 ) + ( S 22 ) = (4.27) + (3.25) = 1.80 + 1.88 = 3.68
df total df total 97 97
Estimated variance for each populationʹs distribution of means:
2 2
S pooled 3.68 S pooled 3.68
S 2
M1 = = = 0.0876 ; S M 2 =
2
= = 0.0646
N1 42 N2 57
Variance of the distribution of differences between means:
2
S difference = S M2 1 + S M2 2 = 0.0876 + 0.0646 = 0.1522
Standard deviation of the distribution of differences between means:

S difference = S difference
2
= 0.15 = 0.39

Copyright © 2013, 2009, 2006, 2003, 1999, 1994 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458. All rights reserved. Page 211
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
 The next morning Miss Mason told Sally to order a taxi to be at
the studio at eleven o’clock.
“If I’m not taken there quickly,” she said to herself, “my courage
will fail me, and I shall come home again.”
And she went over in her mind many sentences she had been
carefully preparing during the long hours of a sleepless night.
One of them began rather like an old-fashioned letter. “My dear
Mrs. Merton, I have ventured to call upon you in order to discuss a
matter I am sure you must have very much at heart, namely, the
welfare of your husband Jasper Merton.” She had repeated it a good
many times to make sure she had it verbatim.
There were other phrases such as, “Pardon what may appear an
unwarrantable interference on my part.” And, “The mutual interest
we both must feel in one for whom you have a wifely love, and I the
affection of friendship.”
She felt she had them all glibly on her tongue, when the hoot of
the taxi outside the studio warned her of its arrival.
“If I am not back to lunch, Sally,” said Miss Mason, with the air
of one embarking on some dangerous enterprise from which she
might never return, “run out and buy a chop for yourself, and we
can have the steak this evening. And give Mimsi a piece of boiled
whiting and a saucerful of milk.”
She got into the taxi, tightly clutching her black satin bag, and
sat down in one corner. It was the first time she had driven in a taxi,
and she felt a trifle nervous. But for her desire to arrive at her
destination before she had time to change her mind about going,
she would undoubtedly have taken a four-wheeler.
The speed of the vehicle seemed excessive, but as other taxis
passed them going at an even greater rate, she made up her mind
to hope for the best. She did, however, put up a small mental prayer
for safety.
 In spite of the rate at which they were travelling they seemed a
long time in getting to their destination. At last Miss Mason began to
feel uneasy. She had heard of people being kidnapped and murdered
on account of their money, and though she had only put ten shillings
worth of silver and one sovereign in her purse, the chauffeur might
think her worth infinitely more.
She decided to ask him how much further they had to go. She
noticed a long tube hanging from the front window. It was no doubt
a whistle. She took it up and blew gently down it. There was no
sound. She collected the whole force of her lungs and blew violently.
The chauffeur, feeling a sudden and unpleasant draught at the back
of his neck, looked round. He saw Miss Mason purple in the face
from her efforts, and the speaking tube at her lips. Fearing apoplexy
he stopped the taxi and came to the door.
“Wot is it, mum?” he asked.
“I only wanted to know if we were near the address I gave
you?” she said breathlessly. “I think this whistle must be out of
order, I can’t make it sound.”
The chauffeur grunted. “That ain’t no bloomin’ whistle-pipe.
That there’s a speakin’ toob,” he remarked scornfully. “Be at Oxford
Road in five minutes now.”
He shut the door with a bang and climbed back to his seat.
“Whistle!” he said to himself. “Whistle! Thought there was a
bloomin’ draught. The old party must ’ave fair busted ’erself.”
Miss Mason sank back in her corner and began to repeat the
sentences in a rapid whisper.
In less than five minutes the taxi stopped before a small house
divided from the pavement by a gravel plot.
The chauffeur got down and opened the taxi door.
“’Ere y’are, mum,” he said.
 Miss Mason got out, paid the man, crossed the gravel plot, and
mounted the steps. Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast.
“Is Mrs. Merton at home?” she asked of Emma, who opened the
door.
“Yes’m. Will you come inside’m?” She showed Miss Mason into
the dismal little parlour. “What name shall I say, ’m?”
“Mrs. Merton won’t know my name,” said Miss Mason
desperately. “But ask her if she will speak to me for a few moments.”
Emma left the room breathing heavily as she moved, and Miss
Mason sat very upright on the little sofa, her hands still clutching the
black satin bag. Her eyes took in the whole room. She saw the dingy
and torn tablecloth, the rather dirty chintz covers to the chairs, and
the distinctly dirty muslin curtains to the windows. A mantel-border
which covered the chimney-piece had come unnailed at one side,
and was hanging in an untidy festoon. The carpet was faded, and
crumbs scattered from the last meal were below one of the chairs.
There was a large Japanese fan in the fender before the empty
grate; its edges were broken and torn. It was also considerably fly-
marked. Miss Mason could understand Jasper’s feelings very well.
She saw what the place must mean to a man of his fastidious
instincts. It might be that he was largely to blame that it had ever
reached such a state, but having reached it it was almost
unavoidable that he should shrink from it.
A step on the stairs made her start. She clutched more tightly at
the bag and began murmuring “unwarrantable intrusion,” “mutual
interest,” in a spasmodic fashion, her eyes fixed on the door.
Suddenly it opened, and a woman in a rather soiled white dress
came into the room. She made Miss Mason think of a faded lily.
The woman looked with something like amazement at the odd
figure in the mushroom hat, grey dress, and wide white linen collar,
seated on the sofa clutching a black satin bag.
 Miss Mason got to her feet. “My dear,” she began, but the rest
of the sentence was lost. “I’m downright nervous,” said Miss Mason,
with one of her gruff little laughs, “and you’ll think me an interfering
old fool, but I was bound to come.”
Bridget looked at her. “There isn’t,” she said with a note of
anxiety in her voice, “anything wrong with Jasper?”
“Oh, no,” said Miss Mason quickly, “but I was talking to him last
night.”
“Ah!” said Bridget.
“And——” said Miss Mason, and stopped. It seemed entirely
impossible now to put her ideas into words. It is one thing to have
marvellous and fairy tale schemes in one’s mind, and plan all kinds
of wonderful arrangements during the magic hours of the night. It is
quite another to find words for them in broad daylight and in a
rather sordid little parlour, especially when they seemed to resolve
themselves into the rather impertinent statement that Jasper would
love his wife if she brushed her hair. It is hardly a suggestion one
can make in cold blood to a complete stranger. “I just came,” ended
Miss Mason helplessly.
She looked through the window wondering how she could best
make her escape, and wishing with all her heart that she had kept
the taxi.
It was Bridget herself who came to the rescue.
“I suppose,” she said slowly, “that Jasper told you our story—it’s
a sordid little story, isn’t it—and you wanted to help?”
Miss Mason nodded. Something in Bridget’s eyes made her own
fill with tears. She forgot her desire to run away. She felt that she
was near a dumb animal in pain.
“Tell me,” said Bridget, “what Jasper told you?”
Very stumblingly Miss Mason gave her some idea of the
conversation. She wanted her to know the truth, yet dreaded to hurt
her more than necessary.
“Then Jasper does care a little,” said Bridget wonderingly. “But
all this——” She looked round the dingy room. “What was your idea
when you came to me?” she asked simply.
“Great interference on my part, no doubt,” said Miss Mason
gruffly. “Began to make up a plan. Thought if he was to see you
again in a pretty room and a pretty frock——” she stopped.
Bridget glanced down at her own dress. “Yes?” she said again.
She had reddened slightly.
“Can tell me to go if you like,” said Miss Mason. “Had no
business to come. But thought—— My dear. I just planned to take
you to a pretty room and bring Jasper to you.”
Bridget looked at her. “I don’t know who you are,” she said
impulsively, “nor anything about you. But you are a dear.”
“Then you’re not angry?” asked Miss Mason.
“I want,” said Bridget, in a muffled voice, “to cry. But I’m not
going to. What were your plans? I’m sure you’d made some.”
And then Miss Mason unfolded all the schemes she had planned
during the night hours. They were of a little flat somewhere in
Chelsea not too far from the studios. The drawing-room was to be
furnished in shades of brown and cream, and it was to be filled with
roses in slender glass vases and china bowls. And there was to be a
woman among the flowers, and Jasper coming in to find her.
“But I haven’t the money for that,” said Bridget. “And I can’t ask
Jasper for any more.”
“But I have,” said Miss Mason bluntly. “My dear, I’m an old
woman. Is it worth while to you, for your husband’s sake, to give me
the pleasure of arranging it?”
Bridget bit her lip. She tried to speak, but no words would
come.
 “Don’t try to say anything,” said Miss Mason.
“I—I——” began Bridget. And, somehow, the next moment she
was down on her knees by Miss Mason, who was soothing her with
little odd articulations and pattings as she had soothed Pippa one
night when she had awakened from a bad dream.
“I’m sorry,” said Bridget at last, sitting up and pushing back her
hair from her face, “but it’s all been so lonely. At times I’ve felt that
just for something to do I could be bad—really bad, you know.
Anything for excitement, and to forget my own thoughts. At first I
used to hate myself. Then I tried to hate Jasper, but I didn’t—I
didn’t. I—I loved him all the time. You see, he gave me my baby. But
I was so lonely and miserable I wanted to be wicked, only I
remembered my baby, and——”
“I know, my dear,” said Miss Mason.
“Have you been lonely?” asked Bridget.
“Utterly lonely, my dear, for fifty-five years at least, ever since
my parents died. And only women can understand the loneliness of
women. Men have their pipes, and they can always swear a little,
which must at times be an enormous help.”
“But you’re not lonely now?” asked Bridget.
Miss Mason smiled, a little glad smile. “My dear, I am so utterly
happy now that I long for every one else to be happy. It was that
that made me so sorry for you and Jasper, and made me want to
come and see you. And now I want you to come and have some
luncheon with me somewhere—you’ll have to tell me where—and
then we’ll go and look at flats.”
Bridget got up from the floor.
“It’s all too wonderful,” she said, “and I don’t know that I’ve the
right to let you help me.”
“Nonsense,” said Miss Mason gruffly. “Might just as well say I’ve
no right to ask you to give me the pleasure of doing a little thing like
this; but I’m going to ask you, all the same. Now go and put on a
hat.”
Bridget left the room. In a few moments she came down in a
dark blue linen coat and skirt, and a black straw hat swathed with
rose-coloured silk. She had brushed her hair and looked a different
being.
“Can we get a four-wheeler?” asked Miss Mason. “Came in a
taxi, but didn’t enjoy it.”
“There’s a train and an omnibus,” said Bridget, “that will take us
to Notting Hill Gate, and we can get any amount of cabs from there.”
So for the first time in her life Miss Mason mounted to the top of
an omnibus and thoroughly enjoyed it. She peered over garden walls
as they passed, and did her best to look through windows, and
made up a good many quite fascinating stories about the inhabitants
of the houses—stories very different from the mental pictures of the
very same lives that Jasper had been wont to paint. In Miss Mason’s
stories there was always a mother—a mother clasping the downy
head of a new-born baby to her heart; a mother watching the first
toddling steps of a tiny child; a mother hearing a little white-
nightgowned figure lisp a childish prayer. The father in these stories
—of course there was a father—took an extraordinarily back seat.
Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a question from
Bridget.
“How did Jasper come to tell you our story?” she asked.
“We were looking at a picture of Pippa,” replied Miss Mason
quietly, “and he said that little Stella would have been nearly the
same age.”
Bridget nodded. For a moment she was silent. Then she spoke
again. “Who,” she asked, “is Pippa?”
“My little girl,” said Miss Mason promptly. “At least, she came to
me out of the Nowhere last December, and now she’s mine.”
 “A Christmas gift,” said Bridget.
Miss Mason nodded. “I like to hear you say that,” she said. “I
gave Pippa her first Christmas tree. It was my first for the matter of
that.”
And then they fell to talking about Pippa and Stella, after the
fashion of women who love children, each capping the other with a
new anecdote. But after a time Miss Mason was left to do most of
the talking, for Bridget suddenly found her voice fail her.
“Pippa,” said Miss Mason, “has true inventive genius. One night
last January I told her to say her prayers before she got into bed.
She announced that she’d already said them. ‘Where?’ I asked. ‘In
my baf,’ she replied, ‘much warmer.’ I couldn’t help feeling there was
a good deal to be said in favour of the bathroom on a cold winter’s
night. But all the same, I told her she was irreverent to say her
prayers lying down. I knew she’d said them that way. She always
ends her ablutions with lying full length in the water. Whereupon she
remarked in an aggrieved voice, ‘Turned over on my front, anyhow.’”
“True prostration in prayer,” laughed Bridget. “I shall love Pippa.”
Already it was almost impossible to believe Bridget to be the
same apathetic woman who, slovenly and untidy, had entered the
dingy little parlour barely two hours previously. After lunch and on
the way to some flats in Beaufort Street she was almost radiant.
“We will put things through as quickly as we can,” said Miss
Mason. “I hate loitering when one has set out on a piece of
business.” And in her heart she was longing to get Bridget away
from the dismal surroundings of her present home without a
moment’s delay. She would have liked to take her to her own studio,
only there was no second bedroom, and also Jasper would have
seen her.
After a little search Miss Mason decided on a flat she thought
would do. It was on the third floor, and consisted of a dining-room, a
drawing-room, four bedrooms, a servant’s room, a bathroom, and
kitchen.
 “What do you think of it?” asked Miss Mason. “It’s for you to say
as you’ll be living in it.”
“It’s heavenly,” said Bridget ecstatically, “but really there are an
unnecessary number of rooms.”
“Not at all,” said Miss Mason firmly. “I hope you’ll be here a long
time, and—one never knows,” she ended significantly. Which little
speech caused Bridget to blush crimson.
“The rent,” said Miss Mason, “is my affair for the first year, at all
events, till you’ve got rid of the house in Chiswick. And the furniture
will be my wedding present, as I didn’t happen to know you when
the ceremony took place.”
And Bridget, her eyes full of happy tears, put her arms round
Miss Mason and kissed her.
 CHAPTER XX
THE HEART OF NATURE

DURING the next three weeks the two conspirators were wildly
busy. Money is a key which smooths many difficulties, and the
path before them was triumphantly easy.
Jasper found Miss Mason a little hard to understand during
these days. She had a way of looking at him and then giving vent to
odd little chuckles of laughter. He hoped she was not becoming
childish.
She received several letters from the donkey tourists. One,
received about the tenth day, told her that another of her schemes
was on the way to be started.
“We are,” wrote Barnabas, “enjoying ourselves immensely. The
weather is glorious, and Pegasus a model of well-behaved
donkeyness. He certainly deserves wings, even though he hasn’t got
them. But I heard Pippa telling him in a consoling voice the other
day that when he reached heaven he’d be provided with a pair of
beautiful white ones. I fancy she sees in herself a female
Bellerophon soaring aloft and through golden streets on a grey
donkey. If the golden streets are anything like as beautiful as the
country lanes through which we are driving we shall be happy. I
wish you could see them—the lanes, I mean. They are a bower of
fairy delight. Wild roses, honeysuckle, and meadow-sweet seem to
vie with each other in filling the warm air with perfume. Larks—I
never knew before that the world held so many—sing to us from
heaven, the sweetest feathered choristers. Last night a nightingale
sang to us in the light of a full moon. It was the first Pippa had
heard. There was something almost terrifying in her rapture. She
feels almost too keenly. She is, however, absolutely in her element,
and if I had ever felt any real doubt about her being the child of
Kostolitz I should only have needed to see her out here to convince
me. At times she finds the most adorable bits of language in which
to express her emotions. But then it is always some little thing like
the colour of a flower-chalice or the glint of the kingfisher’s blue. We
saw one the other day. It skimmed up a bit of transparent water and
perched on a piece of stick in midstream. Pippa and I watched it,
holding our breath. All at once something—I don’t know what—
startled it. There was a streak of iridescent colour and it had gone.
But it left us both with the joyous feeling of discovery. The bird is too
rare and too beautiful to leave one entirely unmoved. Pippa could
talk of that incident. It is the bigger aspects of Nature that hold her
dumb. We came to a wood one evening—pines, straight and solemn
as the aisles of a cathedral, the setting sun slanting down the long
spaces. Pippa’s face was a marvel. She just put her hand up to her
throat and held it there as if it ached with the beauty of the thing,
and then she made the sign of the Cross. It was holy ground,
though there had been no priestly ceremonial to proclaim it so. Only
the wind was there to whisper a benediction, and the trees
themselves were like priests scattering the incense of their fragrant
breath. The very memory of it brings thoughts of poetry to my mind.
But again to Pippa. She’s yours, and I want you to know her as I’m
seeing her now, for it’s the essence of her—the spirit of Kostolitz I’m
seeing. A long line of cawing rooks, whether at sunset or against the
blue sky, affects her strangely. It seems to make her unutterably
sad. Temporarily only, I am glad to say, for she is the gayest of
children, and delights in the smallest of pleasures—namely, a
pennyworth of bull’s-eyes and sticks of pink-and-white striped stuff
which we buy from extremely minute shops, whose windows are
crammed below with apples—foreign, of course—and nuts. Above
the apples and nuts are rows of glass bottles full of pear-drops,
lemon-drops, peppermints, and barley-sugar, also sugar candy the
real article, rough and scrunchly on a string. And somewhere in the
window, very inconspicuous, is a slit through which one can drop
letters—the sweetstuff shop is always the post office. But sweets
evidently take decided precedence over such minor considerations as
letters and postage stamps. There is always a garden leading up to
the shop, and it is always crammed with flowers, the stiff old-
fashioned kind—sweet-williams, stocks, marigolds, mignonette,
asters, and such-like. There are bushes, too, of lavender, and lad’s-
love. I painted one of them, but somehow did not hit it off. I’ve
made another sketch, though, of a pond, a willow, meadow-sweet,
and blue hills, which pleases me quite a lot. In fact, I was so
absorbed in it that I lost Pippa. You needn’t be anxious, because she
is found again, and with her something you wanted, namely, the first
candidate for your School of a Wonderful Chance. I had just finished
my sketch, and having come back to the practicalities of life realized
that Pippa had been absent for two hours. When lo! and behold she
appeared, and with her a loose-limbed fellow of about twenty. When
he fills out he will rival Dan in size—but that is beside the mark.
“‘Barnabas,’ she cried—ceremony and with it the Monsieur has
lapsed into disuse in the open air—‘do look at ze lovely little figure ’e
’as made. ‘Is name is Andrew McAndrew.’ And she rolled her r’s with
gusto. Well, it is pleasant to think that Pippa should be the one to
find your first candidate, and it is curious to think it is one who, if I
am not much mistaken, will one day be a great sculptor. The little
figure of a young girl, made from the clay of the river, was to my
mind simply a marvel. I learnt his story. I’ll not give it in the broad
Scotch in which he told it, for it would take you your whole time to
make it out. He lived in London—Bayswater way—with a widowed
mother, whom he supports by typing in a stuffy little office which he
loathes, though he has not been without hope that ‘Aiblins the gud
Lorrd would find a way out for him one o’ these days.’ Whenever he
has any spare time he models in clay, which mercifully is an
inexpensive material. He has at the moment a week’s holiday, during
which he is tramping the country, sleeping under a hedge or at the
foot of a hayrick, eating bread and cheese like any tramp, and
enjoying himself finely—as we are. Pippa, it appears, watched him at
work, herself hidden, like the fairy she is, in a mass of meadow-
sweet. Suddenly she appeared from among it, and they entered into
a conversation which must have been curious, conducted in a broad
Scotch on his side, and in broken English on hers—though her
English is progressing rapidly. Anyhow, she made him understand
she was out with a party of artists. He was all agog to meet us, and
she brought him along. He will join us for the next three days,
instead of making his way again in the direction of London as he had
intended, and we’ve arranged between us to send him back by train.
As soon as I’m at my studio again he will look me up, and I’ll bring
him along to see you. I’ve given him no inkling of the Wonderful
Chance before him. That is for you to do. But he’s one of the right
ones for it and no mistake. You won’t mind if we keep on the tour till
the end of June, will you? Cupid is sitting gaily in the donkey-cart
alongside Pippa, and though Aurora and Alan don’t quite realize his
presence yet, they soon will discover him, and will no doubt bring
him back as a permanent guest to London. That, of course, was my
main idea when I proposed the tour. High Art, thank goodness, is
getting wan and pale. She had almost her death-blow the other day
when Aurora made a daisy-chain with which she adorned Alan, and
he fell into a pond dabbling after tadpoles for Pippa. We fished him
out and wrapped him in a rug, while we spread his clothes in a
buttercup field to dry. The warmth of their gold was enough to dry
them, let alone the sun. I heard Cupid chuckling, the rogue! We miss
you a lot, and the best thing we have to look forward to on our
return is your welcome....”
Miss Mason put down the letter with a little sigh of happiness.
Her heart felt nearly as warm and sunny as the buttercup field.
Then she set out to meet Bridget at Storey’s in Kensington High
Street.

Exactly three weeks after Miss Mason’s peregrination to

Chiswick she put a request to Jasper.
“I want,” she said, in as careless a voice as she could assume,
“to call on a friend of mine this afternoon, and I want you to come
with me.”
Jasper looked dismayed. “I should be delighted,” he said
mendaciously, “only calling isn’t a bit in my line.”
“It’s quite near at hand,” said Miss Mason; “only at a flat in
Beaufort Street, and I particularly want you to meet my friend.”
“Very well,” said Jasper, suppressing a sigh.
“We’ll start,” said Miss Mason, “at half-past three.”
At the hour appointed Jasper appeared.
“You had better call a taxi,” said Miss Mason. She felt it
impossible to walk. She would have run all the way, a proceeding
which would have undoubtedly have astonished Jasper.
As the taxi drew up at the door of a block of flats in Beaufort
Street, a woman looked for a moment from a window. As she saw
the two figures get out she drew back into the room. Her heart was
beating so loudly she could almost hear it.
Miss Mason rang the bell of the flat.
“Your mistress at home?” she said to the dapper little maid who
opened the door.
“Yes’m. What name ’m?”
“Miss Mason and Mr. Merton,” said Miss Mason firmly.
They went into the bright little passage, and the maid threw
open the door of the drawing-room.
“Miss Mason and Mr. Merton,” she announced.
A woman in a pale green dress came forward to meet them.
Jasper stared.
“Jasper,” she said, with a little shaky laugh, and she held out
both her hands.
 “Bride!” he exclaimed, and it was nearly seven years since she
had heard that name.
Miss Mason went quickly from the room, and closed the door
softly behind her.
It was nearly an hour before they realized her absence. Then
Bridget started up from the sofa.
“Aunt Olive!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Jasper, isn’t she a dear! I
must go round and find her.”
“She’ll be back at her studio by now,” said Jasper calmly.
“I’d quite forgotten her,” said Bridget contritely. “Oughtn’t we to
go——”
“Presently,” said Jasper. “Come back to me now. I want you.
Aunt Olive will understand.”
 CHAPTER XXI
THE RING OF EROS

FAR away from London Pippa was swinging on a gate. Her dress
had become rather faded from much sunshine, and her straw hat
had been baked quite brown. She had it well pulled down to shade
her eyes, so that it hid the upper part of her face.
An hour ago Pippa had been crying, and for the reason that the
purple-shadowed landscape had refused to be interpreted on canvas
through the medium of paints and brushes and her own little brown
right hand. Barnabas at her earnest request had lent her the
materials. It was not the first time she had tried with them. He had
watched her in silence as she messed away with the paints.
Suddenly she flung the canvas face downwards on the grass and
burst into tears.
“What is it, Kiddy?” asked Barnabas, putting his arm round her.
“It’s all out vere,” she said, nodding towards the sunny
landscape, “and I can see it, and I want to tell it to myself and ozzer
peoples, like you tell your pictures, and I can’t—oh, I can’t.” She
rubbed her tear-stained face up and down on Barnabas’ coat-sleeve
in an access of despair.
“But, childie,” expostulated Barnabas, “one can’t ‘tell pictures,’
as you say, all in a moment. One has to learn.”
Pippa shook her head. “Not me,” she said. “I shall never learn. I
can’t ever tell pictures. And it’s all here,” she put her hand to her
heart, “and I want to say it so badly.”
For a minute Barnabas was silent. Then he spoke.
“Once,” he said, “there was a boy who saw that the world was
very beautiful and he wanted to tell his own beautiful thoughts
about it to himself and to other people. One day he heard a man
playing the violin. And the man made the violin speak so that in its
music it said the most wonderful things. It told about the moon
shining on a sleeping sea, and the secrets the little waves whispered
to the shore. It told of silver streams whose banks were starred with
primroses, and it told of great forests where the trees were standing
dark and still in the purple night waiting for the first rosy flush of
dawn. It told of the laughter of little children, and the songs young
mothers sing to their babies. All these things the music of the violin
told, and the boy listened, and said to himself, ‘I will play the violin,
for I know now the way I can tell my thoughts to the world.’”
Pippa was listening entranced. “Had he got a violin?” she asked.
“No,” said Barnabas, “but someone gave him a violin, and he
had lessons, and he practised for many hours, but the violin would
not speak his thoughts in the way he wished it to. And one day the
great violinist he had first heard play came to the house. He listened
to the boy playing but he didn’t say very much. You see, he was a
big man, and the big men never discourage the little men.
Remember that, Pippa, my child. Well, when the boy had finished
playing, the Master just wagged his shaggy great head to and fro
and said, ‘Um, um, um. The lad’s got something to say, but——’ and
then he went away. But he came again to see the boy. And that time
he didn’t ask him to play, but he just sat talking to him. And while he
talked the boy was playing with a piece of clay, for he was very fond
of making figures out of it.”
“Like Andrew,” said Pippa.
“Yes, like Andrew. Well, while the Master talked the boy went on
doing something with the clay, and suddenly the Master saw that it
was a likeness of himself the boy had made. ‘Let’s have a look at
that, boy,’ he said. The boy, feeling very shy and crimson, pushed it
over to him. The Master stared at it for a minute, then he thumped
his hand down on the table. ‘Du lieber Gott!’ he exclaimed in a huge
big voice that made the boy tremble, ‘I knew the boy had something
to say, and behold,’ he pointed at the clay, ‘here is the language in
which he shall say it. My son,’ he went on, ‘you have the ear to hear
the language of music, and you have the heart to understand it, but
you have not the hand to make it speak yourself. In it you
understand the thoughts of others, but in this earth you shall tell
your own. If you live you will be a great man.’ And he held out his
hand to the boy, who took it and kissed it, because he was so very
happy. It’s a true story,” ended Barnabas, “because the boy himself
told me, only he was a man when he told the story.”
Pippa nodded her head up and down. “I like dat,” she said.
“One day p’raps I find a language. What was ze boy’s name?”
“The boy’s name,” said Barnabas, “was Philippe Kostolitz, and he
made the little faun which you love, and which is in my garden.”
“Oh!” said Pippa, with a delighted sigh. Her tears were
completely forgotten. Twenty minutes later she was swinging on the
gate.
Barnabas was sitting in the shadow of a hedge near her,
painting a buttercup field and a copse of birches beyond. Dan was
lying flat on his back smoking. Andrew had gone back to London.
And Aurora and Alan were off on some business of their own.
Pegasus, tethered to a long rope, was contentedly eating thistles.
Pippa watched the birds and butterflies, which were many, and
the by-passers, which were few, as she swung. An old man passed
and called good afternoon in a cheery voice. A trap with a hard-
worked young doctor in it drove by, and he smiled as he saw Pippa.
Then there came a cart driven by a man, and with a boy of about
fifteen sitting on the tail-board, his legs swinging. He made a
grimace at Pippa as he passed, and Pippa—be it told with sorrow—
put out her tongue at him. There was something of the gamin about
Pippa which was never wholly eradicated. And after the boy there
passed a young gipsy woman carrying a baby. Pippa gave her a
three-penny bit. The woman looked hard at her.
“Ah,” she said, “there’s some of our blood in your veins, and you
have the sad eyes and the lucky smile of those who are born to
many happenings. The Lord keep you, little lady.” And she passed on
her way. And after she had gone there were only the birds and
butterflies for quite a long time.
Suddenly Pippa heard the distant hoot of a motor-car. Barnabas,
who had finished his painting, came to the gate and leant over it
with her. The motor hove in sight, a great crimson Mercedes,
travelling fast.
Pippa waved her hand as it passed. The occupants of the car, a
man and a woman, saw the child, and the gaiety of the sunshine
being in their hearts they waved in response. The woman, who was
swathed in a purple motor veil, waved an ungloved hand. Pippa saw
the flash of diamonds on it. Also as she waved something fell, but
the car rounded a bend in the lane and was out of sight almost
before Pippa and Barnabas realized it.
Pippa scrambled over the gate. There was something lying in
the dust, which she picked up. She came back slowly to Barnabas.
“Look,” she said, “what a queer, pretty ring.”
A ruby was set in it, on which was engraved a little figure of
Eros holding a circle and trident. The stone and its setting was
undoubtedly very ancient. The ring itself probably Georgian.
She held it out to Barnabas. He took it from her.
“Ah,” he said slowly, and he looked from it in the direction the
car had vanished.
He had seen the ring before on the hand of Philippe Kostolitz.
“May I keep it?” asked Pippa.
“No, little thief,” said Barnabas. “The owner will miss it and
perhaps come back for it. In any case we shall have to try and find
out who she is, and return it.”
And he slipped the ring into his coat-pocket.
 CHAPTER XXII
AN OLD MAN IN A GARDEN

ITagain
is strange how a name long unspoken and unheard, once coming
within one’s ken, comes again and again before one, and in
the most unlikely and unexpected ways.
For over nine years Barnabas had not chanced to hear his
friend’s name mentioned, and now there was first Pippa and her
wonderful likeness to him, and then the incident of the ring, both of
which had served to remind him vividly and bring the name before
him. But the third incident was to be a good deal stranger, in fact it
was to savour somewhat of the “Arabian Nights’ Entertainments.”
They stopped for their noon halt one day in the shade of a small
coppice. A little beyond it they could see the roof and chimneys of a
house surrounded by a high wall. Before settling down to lunch
Barnabas strolled towards it and walked round the wall. There was
no means of seeing over, and the only entrance was through a small
green wooden door, which was shut. Ivy grew up the wall outside,
and had Barnabas felt disposed he might have climbed up by it and
peered over. It was, however, too hot for such exertion. Also if there
were anyone in the garden and he were seen, his position would
have been, to say the least of it, undignified. He strolled back to the
copse and to the lunch which the others had unpacked.
“Where ’ave you been?” asked Pippa.
Barnabas nodded in the direction of the house. “Down there,”
he said.
“What’s inside?” demanded Pippa.
“Don’t know,” said Barnabas, attacking the leg of a chicken;
“couldn’t see over.”
 Pippa’s eyes became far off and dreamy. “Quel domage! You
couldn’t climb, ze wall ver’ much too ’igh?”
“It wasn’t the question of the height of the wall, but my dignity,”
returned Barnabas. “What would I have looked like if I’d been
caught?”
“Funny,” smiled Pippa, her eyes dancing with amusement.
“I’ve no desire to look funny,” said Barnabas. “Toss me over that
bottle of cider, like a good child, and look out for flying corks. I do
my best, but this weather makes the stuff too fizzy for anything.”
Pippa tossed the bottle and retired gravely behind Barnabas
while he manipulated the cork. Then she returned to her seat near
him.
“I do wonder what’s inside,” she said.
“Cider,” said Barnabas, pouring it into a glass.
“Not the bottle, méchant, the wall,” announced Pippa.
“Oh, the wall! I don’t know; nothing, I daresay.”
“An Ogre,” said Aurora. She and Alan and Dan had been too
busy feeding to enter into the conversation before.
Pippa elevated her chin. “Je ne suis pas une bébé, moi. I know,
but quite well, vere are no Ogres.”
“Lions, then, Miss Curiosity,” suggested Alan.
Pippa turned her shoulder towards him. “Imbécile, it is not a
menagerie, but I have no interest in it, moi. If you wish to discover
you can go and look for yourself.” And she proceeded to eat chicken
delicately and haughtily with her fingers, disdaining further mention
of the house within the wall.
After lunch they all lay down in the shade of the trees and went
to sleep, lulled by the sleepy, liquid note of the wood-pigeons, and
the humming of bees.
 Barnabas was the first to awaken. When he did he discovered
that Pippa was absent. He came out of the copse and looked down
the little lane that ran between the trees on one side and a stretch
of moorland on the other. To the left it would come out on the main
road, to the right it led to the wall-enclosed house.
Seeing no sign of the child, and not caring to coo-ee to her on
account of disturbing the sleepers, he went down towards the
house, thinking it more than likely, from her remarks at lunch, that
she had gone to investigate the place herself.
“Daughter of Eve,” said Barnabas to himself, as he strolled down
the sunny lane, watching the butterflies flitting over the moorland.
He reached the garden wall and had strolled round two sides of
it when he suddenly came to a standstill, arrested by the sound of
Pippa’s voice from inside the garden.
He paused to listen. He could hear her words distinctly. She was
narrating to some one the story of Philippe Kostolitz which he had
told her only a couple of days previously.
“And so,” Pippa ended, in her clear voice, “I am looking for my
language. What is yours?” There was a note of shameless coaxing in
the words.
“That,” returned a deep voice.
“What, ze garden?” came Pippa’s reply.
Barnabas put one foot on a stout branch of ivy, and clinging to
another branch above him, heaved himself noiselessly to the top of
the wall.
Then he saw Pippa. She was seated on a garden bench, her hat
in her hands, and on the bench beside her was an old man. His
beard, long and snow-white, reached almost to his waist. His hair,
also snow-white and very thick, glistened in the sunlight, for his
head was uncovered. His clothes, Barnabas saw, were dark and well-
cut, and his voice was peculiarly melodious and refined.
 “Well, upon my word!” ejaculated Barnabas, quite forgetting
that he was speaking aloud.
The old man looked up. “Ah,” he said, with a quaint smile, “so
you, too, have found the ivy route.”
“You don’t mean to say Pippa climbed up here?” exclaimed
Barnabas, absolutely forgetful of his own rather curious position.
“But I did,” cried Pippa joyfully, “and he saw me, and asked me
to come in and see ze garden. But did you ever see such a garden?”
“Never!” said Barnabas enthusiastically, surveying it from his
post of vantage.
Smooth lawns with close-clipped edges, and flower-beds a mass
of colour met his eye. There were larkspurs tall and slender, from
sapphire blue to turquoise. There were great tree lupins, there were
roses of every shade and shape imaginable. There were crimson and
blue salvias, scarlet and white phloxes, borders of African marigolds
—a blaze of orange; and there was a great bed of hollyhocks,
among whose silken flowers butterflies innumerable were hovering.
In the middle of the lawn was a marble basin full of crystal water, on
whose edge white pigeons were preening themselves, and a couple
of gorgeous peacocks spread tails of waking eyes to the sun.
“Will you not,” said the old man courteously, “follow Pippa’s
example and enter the garden by the door? You will find it
unfastened.”
Barnabas slithered down off the wall and came round to the
green door. He felt as if he were suddenly walking into a fairy tale
garden in which nothing that might happen would surprise him.
The old man came forward to meet him.
“I hope,” he said courteously, “that the child’s absence has not
caused you anxiety. I found a pleasure in her conversation, and
forgot that time was passing.”
 “Not at all,” Barnabas assured him. “I had only just missed her. I
came to look for her, and heard her voice. Forgive my
unceremonious appearance.”
The old man smiled. “It was as delightful as her own,” he said.
There was a little silence. Barnabas looked towards the house.
It was Elizabethan in structure, with walls stained to a variety of
different colours by wind, sun, rain, and time. Roses wreathed the
latticed windows, and up one side of the house a great wistaria
climbed, covering part of the roof and losing itself among the
chimney-stacks.
“Will you come inside?” said the old man. “There is something I
would like the child to see.”
Barnabas assented. The three sleepers in the coppice were
forgotten. The fascination of the place and the old man’s strange
and courtly personality was upon him.
The old man had led the way into the house. They went into a
square hall, dark and cool. The floor was of inlaid wood highly
polished, the walls oak and hung with pictures. They passed through
the hall, and the old man led the way through an arched doorway
and down two steps into a room which to the mind of Barnabas
belonged most assuredly to the ancient stories of the “Arabian
Nights.” In shape it was circular, and hung with draperies of a
curious deep blue, like the colour of the sky at night. The floor was
also polished and covered with a few old Persian rugs. There was an
oak table at the far side of the room, three large oak chairs, and a
kind of divan covered in sapphire-blue silk and worked with tiny
crescent moons and stars.
But the arresting note of the room lay in a marble statue on a
pedestal. It would be hard to say wherein exactly the extraordinary
fascination of it lay. But Barnabas looked at it almost spellbound.
The old man motioned to them to sit down, and seated himself.
“That statue,” he said, “was given me by a friend of mine. He
used to pass many months with me at a time. He loved the quietude
of these surroundings as I love them. At the back of the house I had
a studio built for him where he worked. When he was not working
he sat in the garden. He loved it. He used to say he loved the
flowers both in sunlight and in moonlight, or drenched in tears of
rain. He said the Spirit of the Garden moved among them. That was
the Figure he made of Her. Look at it well,” he went on, with a grave
earnestness. “Is it not wonderful?”
“Wonderful!” echoed Barnabas from his heart.
“It is to me,” said the old man quietly, “a perfect embodiment of
an inspiration. So much is often lost. First the inspiration-flash has to
become articulate—to be shaped in the brain—before the hand even
starts to fashion it. It loses enormously in the process. To me that is
one of the few things that has not lost. It is the first inspiration-flash
embodied in marble. It has never been exhibited. My friend had a
curious dislike to exhibiting his work. He was a strange man.”
He lapsed into a thoughtful silence. Pippa was lying back in her
chair, her hands tucked under her chin—a usual attitude of hers. She
was gazing at the statue with wide grey eyes. Barnabas had a
certain presentiment of a name that would shortly be mentioned.
“Would you like to see the place where he worked?” asked the
old man suddenly.
Barnabas got up from his chair. Pippa came across to him and
slid her hand into his. Her imagination was vividly at work.
They left the circular room and went down a passage. The old
man took a key from his pocket and unlocked a door.
“This is the place,” he said.
It was a large room, well lighted. There were plaster casts of
heads on various shelves, and several plaster plaques hanging on
the walls. At one side of the studio Barnabas saw the plaster figure
of a little faun. It was the same as the marble faun in his garden.
Pippa did not notice it. She was gazing at a figure, enveloped in an
old sheet, which was on a stand in the middle of the room.
 “It was the last piece of work he started here,” said the old
man, pointing to it. “It has remained just as he left it. Nothing has
been moved. I dust the place myself. No one ever entered it but my
friend and I and the workmen he employed. They were always
foreigners, and came from a distance. But now no one enters but I.
You are the first to come into the place.”
“And,” said Barnabas, speaking in a low voice, “you brought us
in here because of Pippa?”
Pippa had wandered to the far side of the room.
“How did you know?” asked the old man.
“Because Philippe Kostolitz was also my friend.”
“Ah!” said the old man softly. “And where,” he asked, “did you
find the child?”
“She came to us,” said Barnabas, “out of the Nowhere.”
The old man smiled. “Planted there I fancy by Philippe.” Then
their eyes met. “So you saw the likeness too?”
“I did,” said Barnabas.
“That was the reason,” said the old man, “that I liked to talk to
her. She reminded me of him. He came and went from here as he
chose. It was on one of his tramps that he wandered in. The door in
the wall is never locked. I found him looking at the butterflies among
my hollyhocks. He was a lad of twenty at that time. It is twenty-five
years ago.”
“Yes?” said Barnabas.
“Pippa’s voice,” went on the old man, “is charming. I liked to
hear it. She has a way of looking up at one when she talks that
reminds me of our friend. She told me a delightful little story about a
sculptor.”
“The story,” said Barnabas, “was true. And the sculptor was
Philippe Kostolitz.”
 “Truly,” said the old man, “I might have guessed it.”
And again he lapsed into silence. Suddenly he roused himself.
“But you will have fruit and cake and something to drink,” he
said. “I was forgetting my manners.”
“We have only just lunched,” said Barnabas.
“But fruit,” the old man insisted, “at least fruit. I hold the
Eastern ideas of hospitality. Those to whom I feel friendly must eat
in my house.”
He led the way back into the hall and signed to them to sit
down. Then he clapped his hands three times. An Indian, brown as
mahogany, in loose trousers, white shirt, and turban, answered the
summons. He salaamed, his face as impassive as a mask.
The old man said something to him in a language neither
Barnabas nor Pippa understood, though Barnabas guessed it to be
Hindustanee.
“He has served me,” said the old man, “for fifteen years. He is
faithful as a dog.”
“Do you live here always?” asked Barnabas.
“I have lived here,” said the old man, “for thirty years. Up till the
age of forty I travelled far. Then I came here to peace—my
thoughts, my flowers, and my books. I have a few friends who come
to see me, and they are always welcome.”
He mentioned three or four names. Among them Barnabas
recognized the name of a famous statesmen and a well-known
singer.
The Indian returned with a tray, on which was a dish of
strawberries, some wafer biscuits, a glass of milk, and two empty
tumblers, and three small decanters, which he placed on a table.
The old man helped Pippa to strawberries and gave her the
glass of milk. Then from the three decanters he mixed a drink for
Barnabas and himself.
“Excellent!” said Barnabas as he tasted it.
“My own brewing,” said the old man.
While they ate the fruit he talked to them of his travels. Each
little narrative he told was well-turned and concise, the language he
chose was poetical.
All at once he got up and went into an inner room. He came
back with the most exquisite little Russian icon. He gave it to Pippa.
“Will you have it,” he asked, “in memory of your visit here?”
Pippa was covered with rosy blushes of delight.
“Mais, je vous rémerce mille fois,” she said. “Barnabas, isn’t it
beautiful, but, oh, very beautiful?”
“It’s very good of you,” said Barnabas. “You’ve given a great
deal of pleasure.” And then quite suddenly, and for the first time, he
remembered the three sleepers in the wood, who doubtless had long
ago awakened. He signed to Pippa, who got up. The old man took
them into the garden. At the green door he held out his hand.
“Will you come again and see me?” he said. “I live, as you see,
alone among my flowers. Ali looks after my bodily needs, and I have
a man who helps me in my garden. I do not, as a rule, see people—
beyond the few friends I mentioned to you. But it would give me
great pleasure if you will come. My name is Adam Gray, and my
house is called The Close.”
And Barnabas promised that one day they would come again.
So they left the enchanted garden and went up the lane among
the butterflies.
“I feel as if I’d been dreaming,” said Pippa thoughtfully.
“Exactly, my dear,” said Barnabas. “It’s what we’ve both been
doing—dreaming a very fantastic Arabian Night’s dream, which
nobody would believe if we told it to them.”
 And then from afar an extremely wakeful Dan saw them and
hailed them in wrathful accents.
“Where on earth have you two been?” he cried. “We’ve been
hunting for you for the last hour and a half.”
“We’ve been in a fairy tale,” said Barnabas, as he reached him,
“where clocks and watches are not admitted, and where turbaned
Indians bring red, white, and green drinks in cut-glass decanters,
which when mixed together is drink fit for the gods. Now let me help
you to harness Pegasus. And if you’ll leave off staring I’ll tell you
about it, only Pippa knows you won’t believe it.”

Miss Mason, in her studio in London, received a registered

packet from Barnabas. She opened it, and found inside a letter and a
curious signet ring.
“We are on our way home,” wrote Barnabas. “Cupid has
triumphed and is holding the reins of Pegasus. Pippa, Dan, and I are
taking back seats. Kisses and moonlight—there’s a full moon—
predominate, and I saw Aurora hugging a rosy-cheeked baby in a
cottage garden. High Art gave one groan and expired. She has
never, never moved again. The call of wedding bells is bringing us
back to London. You may expect us on Friday. I am enclosing a ring
which was dropped from a passing motor-car. Fortunately I saw the
number. It was a London car. I am advertising for the owner of the
ring in various London papers, and have given your studio as the
address to which to apply, though I gave my own name. Therefore I
send you the ring. You will, of course, take the name and address of
the claimant. Dan and I will be glad to be home again. Though
Nature in her present sunny mood is extraordinarily entrancing,
there is a good deal to be said in favour of spring mattresses....”
Miss Mason looked at the ring, turning it curiously in her hand.
Then she put it away in a little carved box which she locked.