e was accustomed
to remark in her moments of friendly conversation. This, too, might be
merely the result of a little natural excitement, seeing that the
school-mistress so seldom dined from home. But, in any case, the
proximity of these two persons was curiously interesting and suggestive.

In the drawing-room, presently, Alma had a pleasant little talk with Mr
Thistlewood. By discreet experiment, she satisfied herself that Mrs
Abbott's name certainly quickened his interest; and, having learnt so
much, it was easy, by representing herself as that lady's old and
intimate friend, to win from the man a significant look of pleasure and
confidence. They talked of art, of landscape, and it appeared that
Thistlewood was acquainted with the part of Carnarvonshire where Alma
had lived. What was more, he had heard of her charming water-colours,
and he would so much like to see them.

'Some enemy has done this,' replied Alma, laughing gaily. 'Was it Mrs
Abbott?'

'No, it was not,' he answered, with corresponding vivacity.

'Why, then, it must have been Mrs. Langland, and I have a good mind to
put her to open shame by asking you to come and see my wretched daubs.'

Nothing would please him better, declared Thistlewood; and thereupon he
accepted an invitation to tea for the following afternoon.

Alma asked no one else. She understood that this man was only to be
observed under favourable conditions by isolating him. She wished,
moreover, to bring him into fireside conversation with Harvey, and to
remark her husband's demeanour. By way of preparation for this
conjuncture, she let fall, in private chat with Harvey, a word or two
which pointed humorously at her suspicions concerning Thistlewood and
Mary Abbott. The hearer exhibited an incredulous surprise.

'It was only a fancy,' said Alma, smiling rather coldly; and she felt
more desirous than ever of watching her husband in Thistlewood's
presence.

Unexpectedly, from her point of view, the two men got along together
very well indeed. Harvey, thoroughly cordial, induced their guest to
speak of his work at the School of Art, and grew so interested in it
that the conversation went on for a couple of hours. Thistlewood had
pronounced and enthusiastic ideas on the subject.

'My difficulty is,' he exclaimed, 'that I can't get hold of the
children young enough. People send their boys and girls to be taught
drawing as an "accomplishment"--the feeble old notion. I want to teach
it