I should love to take you round to all the big stores and tell them
that you owe your milk and rose complexion to my famous cream." She
burst out laughing. "Can't you imagine it! Esther, you and I ought to
tour the country in a caravan or something. Call ourselves the new
Sequah." She rolled over in the big chair and hid her face in the
cushions.

Esther laughed; she felt quite at home now in June's room. There were
a few of her own possessions lying about, and she had bought Charlie a
new cushion of his own. It gave her a sense of independence to know
that she was paying her share of everything.

"I shall get something if I wait long enough," Esther said presently.
"Do you know, I rather think I should like to be a companion, after
all. I told Mr.----" She stopped; she had been about to add that she
had once told Micky how she would hate it.

"It might not be so bad," June admitted; "but you want some one with
pots of money and a good temper."

She looked at Esther consideringly.

"There wouldn't have to be any eligible sons either," she said
bluntly. "You're much too pretty----"

Esther laughed.

"What nonsense!"

June dragged Esther to her feet and made her look in the glass.

"Now dare to call it nonsense--look at yourself," she commanded.

But Esther only looked at June.

"Next to you," she began, but June cut her short.

"If you're going to try blatant flattery," she said.

They both laughed at that.

Some one tapped at the door; Lydia, the smiling housemaid, appeared;
she looked at the two girls with a sort of parental expression; she
was very fond of them both, and never minded how late or how hard she
worked to do little extra jobs for either of them. It was her greatest
pride to stay in when her "evening out" came and help June label the
little mauve pots; she recommended the famous cream to all her
friends; she was as proud of it as if it were her own invention.

She carried a note on a tray now, which she handed to Esther.

"I found it on the hall table, Miss," she said. "It must have been
left by messenger."

She waited a moment to make up the fire and tidy the hearth; she was
always glad of an excuse to stay in the room; she was never tired of
telling her friends what a pretty room it was--she loved the mauve
cushions and the many photographs.

She went away with a reluctant backward look. June yawned.

"Another love-letter?" she asked chaffingly. She looked across at
Esther, and