In the meanwhile, Barbara was blissfully unconscious of any trouble, and went singing cheerily about her room that morning.  Since the delivery of her check to Mrs. Wilson it seemed to her that the skies were blue again.  During the rest of her stay in Washington Bab meant just to enjoy the beautiful sights of the wonderful city and not to trouble about the disagreeable people.  She did intend to ask Harriet to take her to see the cunning little Chinese girl, Wee Tu, before she went home, but she had no other very definite desires.

As for Mrs. Wilson?  Barbara had just wisely decided that the woman belonged to a curious type, which she did not understand and wished to keep away from.  Bab did not admire Mrs. Wilson’s methods of playing jokes.  On the other hand it was none of Barbara Thurston’s business.  So long as she had put the paper back in Mr. Hamlin’s strong box no harm had been done.

Barbara still had in her possession the key to that strong box.  She had neglected to give it to Harriet, because Harriet had left home so soon after breakfast.  And now that very terrifying person, Mr. William Hamlin, had returned home, and Barbara Thurston still had the key in her possession.  Even Ruth had gone out.  What should she do?  She decided to keep the key until Harriet came back in the afternoon.  Then Harriet could make some sort of explanation to her father.  Barbara simply did not have the courage to tell Mr. Hamlin that she had discovered Mrs. Wilson tampering with his papers, and that it was she who had found the stolen paper and locked it up again.

However, fate was certainly against Bab at the present time.  A servant knocked at the door of the next room, where Grace and Mollie were reading.

“Please,” the maid said, “Mr. Hamlin wants to know if Miss Harriet left a key with you?  It is a most important key, and Mr. Hamlin needs it at once.”

Grace and Mollie both shook their heads.  No; Harriet had mentioned no such key to them.

Barbara was waiting in the next room with the door open.  She knew her turn would come next.

“Do you know anything of the key, Miss Barbara?” Harriet’s maid inquired.

Of course Bab blushed.  She always did at the wrong time.

“Yes, I have the key, Mary,” she replied.  “Wait a minute, I will get it for you.”

“Do the young ladies know anything of my key?” Mr. William Hamlin’s impatient voice was heard just outside Barbara’s door.

Innocently the maid opened it.  “Wait a minute, Mr. Hamlin, please.  Miss Thurston says she has the key.  She is getting it for you now.”

And Barbara had to come to the door herself to present the key to this dreadful old “Bluebeard.”

“I presume my daughter left my key in your charge,” Mr. Hamlin asked coldly.

“No,” she declared almost under her breath, hoping her stern host would either not hear her, or at least not heed her.  “Harriet did not leave it with me.”