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"How could she?" wondered Patricia, feeling awed by this devotion to art.,The others stared at him, and with the skepticism of thoroughly healthy minds refused to attach much importance to Etwald's mysticism. Jen was the first to speak, and he did so in rather a stiff way, quite different from his usual jovial style of conversation.,"I doubt that, I doubt that. Jaggard, like yourself, is an old campaigner, and no doubt an alert sleeper; that is," explained Arkel, "he would wake up at the least sound.","Hello, Howes! Here's someone looking for you!","Did he apologize for his use of it before or after the explanation?" was Jen's final question.,The negress started and threw up her hands in surprise.,"And mine, too," said Maurice, hotly. "Isabella is--",Jen started, and looked sharply at the old man, who, to all appearances, was answering his questions with all possible candor.,Elinor thanked her cordially, while Patricia almost dislocated her neck trying to get a glimpse of the big canvas that protruded from the locker while still keeping far enough behind Elinor for her curiosity to pass unnoticed.,"Let's stay here for a minute or two, and then run up to the house before it comes," suggested Patricia, with her chin on the half door of the barn, looking out over the tender landscape and down at the flowers in the unused barnyard far below.,Here she waited in the shadow of the fluttering violet arc light, with her eyes fastened to the silent, insensible windows. Ten minutes that seemed ten eternities went lagging by. Tears of disappointment rose to Patricia's eyes and she shivered as the gusts of west wind flung the drops from the saturated trees in a silver shower across the darkened panes.,Patricia grinned. "You two geniuses understand each other, I see. Might a humdrum mortal remind you that David is just about sliding into the train shed at this moment?".