a young person's studies
for the stage may be an interest of as high an order as any other
artistic appeal.

"Mr. Nash has rendered us the great service of introducing us to Madame
Carre, and I'm sure we're immensely indebted to him," Mrs. Rooth said to
her daughter with an air affectionately corrective.

"But what good does that do us?" the girl asked, smiling at the actress
and gently laying her finger-tips upon her hand. "Madame Carre listens
to me with adorable patience, and then sends me about my business--ah in
the prettiest way in the world."

"Mademoiselle, you're not so rough; the tone of that's very _juste. A la
bonne heure_; work--work!" the actress cried. "There was an inflexion
there--or very nearly. Practise it till you've got it."

"Come and practise it to _me_, if your mother will be so kind as to
bring you," said Peter Sherringham.

"Do you give lessons--do you understand?" Miriam asked.

"I'm an old play-goer and I've an unbounded belief in my own judgement."

"'Old,' sir, is too much to say," Mrs. Rooth remonstrated. "My daughter
knows your high position, but she's very direct. You'll always find her
so. Perhaps you'll say there are less honourable faults. We'll come to
see you with pleasure. Oh I've been at the embassy when I was her age.
Therefore why shouldn't she go to-day? That was in Lord Davenant's
time."

"A few people are coming to tea with me to-morrow. Perhaps you'll come
then at five o'clock."

"It will remind me of the dear old times," said Mrs. Rooth.

"Thank you; I'll try and do better to-morrow," Miriam professed very
sweetly.

"You do better every minute!" Sherringham returned--and he looked at
their hostess in support of this declaration.

"She's finding her voice," Madame Carre acknowledged.

"She's finding a friend!" Mrs. Rooth threw in.

"And don't forget, when you come to London, my hope that you'll come and
see _me_," Nick Dormer said to the girl. "To try and paint you--that
would do me good!"

"She's finding even two," said Madame Carre.

"It's to make up for one I've lost!" And Miriam looked with very good
stage-scorn at Gabriel Nash. "It's he who thinks I'm bad."

"You say that to make me drive you home; you know it will," Nash
returned.

"We'll all take you home; why not?" Sherringham asked.

Madame Carre looked at the handsome girl, handsomer than ever at this
moment, and at the three young men who had taken their hats and stood
ready to accompany h