piano. "Let's hear it."

Rather reluctantly she played him a few odd bits of her recent
work--the outcome of dull, depressing days.

Sandy listened, and as he listened his lips set in an uncompromising
straight line.

"Well, I never heard more maudlin piffle in my life!" was his frank
comment when she had finished. "If you can't do better than that,
you'd better shut the piano and go digging potatoes."

Nan laughed rather mirthlessly.

"I don't know what sort of a hand you'd make at potato digging,"
pursued Sandy. "But apparently this is the net result of your musical
studies"--and, seating himself at the piano, he rattled off a caustic
parody of her performance.

"Rank sentimentalism, Nan," he said coolly, as he dropped his hands
from the keys. "And you know it as well as I do."

"Yes, I suppose it is. But it's impossible to do any serious work
here. Lady Gertrude fairly radiates disapproval whenever I spend an
hour or two at the piano. Oh!"--her sense of humour rising uppermost
for a moment--"she asked me to play to them one evening, so I gave them
some Debussy--out of sheer devilment, I think"--smiling a little--"and
at the end Lady Gertrude said politely: 'Thank you. And now, might we
have something with a little more tune in it?"

Sandy shouted with delight.

"After all, people like that are awfully refreshing," he said at last.

"At times," admitted Nan. "All the same," she went on dispiritedly,
"one must be in the right atmosphere to do anything worth while."

"Well, I'm exuding as much as I can," said Sandy. "Atmosphere, I mean.
Look here, what about that concerto for pianoforte and orchestra which
you had in mind? Have you done anything to it yet?"

She shook her head.

"Then get on to it quick--and stick at it. Don't waste your time
writing the usual type of sentimental ballad-song--a degree or two
below par."

Nan was silent for a few minutes. Then:

"Sandy," she said, "you're rather like a dose of physic--wholesome but
unpalatable. I'll get to work to-morrow. Now let's go and forage for
some food. You've made me fearfully hungry--like a long sermon in
church."

Christmas came, bringing with it, at Roger's suggestion, a visit from
Lord St. John, and his presence at the house worked wonders in the way
of transforming the general atmosphere. Even Lady Gertrude thawed
beneath the charm of his kindly, whimsical personality, and to Nan the
few days he spent at the Hall were