dia says I'll _adore_ her pictures, so you _will_ let
me go, won't you?"

"If it won't interfere with your home lessons and practising. It's
extremely kind of her to ask you, I'm sure."

"I'll just _swat_ at my lessons when I get back, to make up, and I'll
do my practising before breakfast."

"Very well, but don't stay later than half-past five. The evenings are
beginning to get dark so soon now."

"Oh, thanks most immensely!"

To Lorraine, brought up in a little world consisting mostly of her own
family and a circle of cousins, it was really quite an event to pay this
visit into the _terra incognita_ of the Art Colony. She came to school
in her best dress that afternoon, with the chain of amber beads that
Donald had sent her from Italy. They were at present the only artistic
things she possessed, and therefore the most suitable for the occasion.

She and Claudia hurried away as speedily as possible after four o'clock,
and were soon tramping down the hill from The Gables and treading the
narrow, quaint streets that led towards the sea. The harbour at
Porthkeverne was a picturesque place that had figured over and over
again on the walls of the Academy. Its green waters this afternoon
sheltered a fleet of red-sailed fishing-boats, whose owners were busy
making ready to put out into the bay. Over the beach and round about the
breakwater flew hundreds of sea-birds, flapping in and out of the water,
and pecking among the sea-weed on the rocks. Some venturesome urchins,
scrambling after crabs, screamed almost as lustily as the gulls.

Along the quay, behind the barrels and upturned boats and baskets and
old timber, was a row of irregular buildings that had once served as
sailmakers' warehouses or boat builders' workshops. The artistic colony
had joyfully seized upon these, and had turned them from their original
use into a set of studios. Large glass windows fronted the bay, and
twisting flights of steps and painted railings led up to the doors on
which were brass plates with names well known both in London and
provincial exhibitions.

Claudia led the way along the quay, crossing the gangway where the
little river flowed down, and passing the "Sailors' Rest" where a few
blue-jacketed old salts were reading the newspapers, then stopped at a
particular flight of wooden steps that were painted pale sea-green. Up
these she ran, and tapped at a half-open door.

"Come in!" said a voice, and the girls entered.

To Lorrai