ancy in riotous joy.
Where his genius grew slack, hers urged him to renewed effort.

The morning came up ruddily from the sea; it came with a south-wind
playfulness, which tossed the girl's glistening hair with free touch and
kissed the glowing face into richer beauty.

Presently the little, secluded hut came into view; the very next hollow
held it! Janet stood upon the last hill, drew out her whistle and with
smiling lips, that with difficulty formed themselves to the task, sent
forth her call. The musical note penetrated the stillness. A bird rose
affrightedly from a near-by bush; but it, and the waiting girl, seemed
to have the Hills to themselves.

"So much the better!" murmured Janet, sparkling with excitement. "It
will be all the more surprising." She ran rapidly forward, secured the
key and opened the door. Then she obediently locked it again and stood
within the room gazing tenderly at every beloved object. It was just as
Thornly had left it. He had waited all day for the girl; he had wanted
her to pose in the open, but she had failed him and he had evidently
devoted himself to the picture he was painting, as he had told her, for
his own private use. "My Pimpernel," he called it, and rough as the work
was at that stage, it was full of beauty and promise. It was Janet,
little more than sketched, to be sure, but a startling likeness; and the
wreath of pimpernel flowers, on the glorious sun-touched hair, had
evidently been the artist's last work.

The throne-like space, with the cushions and low divan upon which the
girl posed, was in full view, with Thornly's jacket and pipe lying
carelessly upon it. The curtain, which always hung over the picture for
Mr. Mason, was drawn aside. Apparently the man had had less reason to
hide that from any chance visitor. Janet walked over to the table and
raised the cover of the chafing dish.

"He ate at the boarding house," she whispered, "else I'd have to wash
this. He's scandalously untidy!" She picked up a glass and sniffed.

"Wine!" she announced, "wine for a party,--and cracker crumbs! Company!
I wonder who? One, two, three, four wineglasses. Bluff Headers!" Then
the smile trembled before the memory of Mr. Devant's proud, haughty
sister and the young lady unlike any one the dune-bred girl had ever
seen before. Not even the most gorgeous boarder in the least resembled
her. She was so icily cold, so calmly beautiful; so exquisitely dressed
in white, white always, with a