England now or that she gave
lessons. Oh, you lucky, lucky girl!" she added, a note of deep,
uncontrolled envy in her voice. "Just imagine. You are going to have
lessons from Martelli. And you are not out of your mind with joy. What
a wicked, wicked waste it is!"

"Is it not?" Margaret agreed, not a whit offended at the frankness of
this remark. "I do not wish to learn singing. I know my voice possesses
no merit whatever, and, moreover, I am not always sure whether I am
singing in tune or not."

"Well, it is something to know you don't know," said Eleanor. "Not every
one who sings out of tune could or would own as much. Oh, what a
horrible, topsy-turvy world it is, to be sure! Here are you going to
have the thing that I covet more than anything else in the whole wide
world--singing lessons from a first-rate teacher, which you don't
appreciate in the least--and here am I, compelled to waste the whole
summer holidays doing nothing. And if you would like to be me, as you say
you would, how much more wouldn't I give to be you, if only for a month!"

"Yes," said Margaret, with a long-drawn sigh; "it does seem a matter for
considerable regret that we cannot change places, and you be me and I be
you. If only a fairy would pass this way and transform us with a waive of
her magic wand into each other how much happier we both should be, and
how delighted Madame Martelli would be to get you for a pupil instead of
me!"

"Don't," said Eleanor, with a little muffled groan. She could not play
with the idea as Margaret was doing, her feelings were far too deeply
engaged for that.

Margaret sighed again. It distressed her to see any one so unhappy as
Eleanor looked at that moment, and she began to realise that her longing
for a freer, different life to the one she had hitherto led was but a
puny thing when compared to the fierce desire that consumed Eleanor to be
given an opportunity to cultivate her voice. If only she could help her
in some way. But what could she do? She might ask Mrs. Murray to allow
Eleanor to share her lessons, but she was afraid that the request would
not be granted. She knew that her grandfather would not allow her to
associate with any girl of her own age, certainly not with one whose
acquaintance she had made in so casual a manner. And besides, even if her
grandfather had done such an unlikely thing as to give his consent to the
arrangement, how could Eleanor find the time to come out to Windy Gap for
he