tony of the ordinary
grind of work, as well as such side activities as the Photographic
Society, and a newly-formed Sketching Club. Lesbia found one advantage
in having resigned the prefectship to Kathleen, it gave her Tuesday
afternoons free. Formerly she had been obliged to superintend a juniors'
cricket practice, but now she could spend the time at her beloved
painting in the studio. As it was a "Self Expression" afternoon she was
under no tuition, but might carry out any artistic scheme she wished. By
special leave she borrowed Gwennie Rogers, who had strained her knee and
might not play cricket, and, posing the child as model, began to paint a
study of her head in oils. Gwennie was very pretty, with an
apple-blossom complexion and fluffy fair hair, and the episode of the
gate room had switched her adoration of Lesbia to a point which made her
sit still for half an hour at a stretch without moving, a quality in a
model which is absolutely invaluable.

Lesbia, whose art victims generally fidgeted and twisted their heads and
never kept the same position for more than two minutes together, painted
away with the utmost satisfaction. The studio was quiet, and she seemed
able to give her whole attention to her subject. She mixed a very
delicate grey for the shades on Gwennie's face, and put a dull blue
background behind her fair hair. She recalled all the hints Mr. Stockton
had given her when she had attempted Terry's portrait, and tried to
reproduce some of the artistic effects which she had watched his clever
fingers perform. The doing of it was sheer joy. She worked away in a
sort of happy dream, almost oblivious of her surroundings. She hardly
noticed when the door opened and someone entered the studio. She was
startled at last by hearing Miss Tatham's voice behind her. Instantly
the spell broke. She laid down her palette and brushes, and Gwennie
moved her pose.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Lesbia," said Miss Tatham. "I've brought a
gentleman--a great artist--to see our studio. This is one of our elder
pupils, Mr. Moxon. She's painting this afternoon quite on her own
account. We have no life class here, so she's just trying her 'prentice
hand at a sketch of one of her schoolfellows. It's all good practice."

Mr. Moxon, from a height of six feet two, looked down at the canvas on
Lesbia's easel.

"It's a very nice study," he remarked. "She evidently has the gift of
catching a likeness. It really is a most happy littl