my ideas is denied me. If I try to paint a tree my
friends gibe at me. I am a poor literary hack; but I give you my word,
my dear old Philistine, that I would willingly change places with you."
Anna smiled, she was accustomed to this sort of talk; but to her
surprise Verity, who had just rejoined them, looked grave.

"I am always so sorry for Mr. Herrick when he says this sort of thing,"
she observed in a low voice aside to Anna. "He means us to laugh, but
he is quite serious. Amias and I just know how he feels. It must be so
sad to love the beautiful with all one's heart and not have the power
to create--to be just a thought and word painter and nothing else."

"Perhaps if Malcolm took lessons he might be able to paint in time,"
suggested Anna. She felt rather culpable, as though all these years she
had not sympathised enough with him; but then it was so difficult for
any one to know when he was serious.

It was evident that Verity understood him.

"Oh no, it is too late now," she remarked; "besides, the gift has been
denied him. But he helps Amias so much by his clever suggestions. He
would not tell you, of course, but this caravan scene is all his idea.
He came upon a gipsy encampment in a Kentish lane one afternoon, and he
made Amias go down the next day and see it. There was the woodman's
hut, and the barn, and the hobbled horse and donkey. Amias was down
there at the inn three days, making sketches for the picture, and
getting some of the gipsies to sit to him. There was one woman ill in
the tent, but Amias declared she looked more like a sick ape, she was
so ugly--so I had to be the model."

"Isn't it rather tiring work, Mrs. Keston?"

"Oh dear, no," returned Verity smiling; "it never tires me to do things
for Amias; and then he lets me talk to him all the time. I like to feel
I am useful to him, and can help him a little with his work."

"Oh yes, I can understand that," returned Anna softly. She thought
Verity looked quite beautiful as she spoke; perhaps the costume of a
Roman peasant suited her, but Anna, who was standing quite close to
her, noticed the wonderful softness of the brown eyes and the length of
the curling lashes. Babs had grown drowsy at last, and Verity had
placed her in the cot. Then they all sat down for a brief chat before
it was time for Malcolm to take Anna home.

They had been talking about Amias Keston's unfinished picture, and, as
usual, Malcolm had been holding forth in his role