n?"

Lorraine flushed with pleasure. She had never stood as model in her
life, and, though the experience might be stale and wearisome to
Claudia, to her it had all the charm of novelty.

"Of course I will. Would you like me to come to-morrow?" she murmured
delightedly. "And--I hope you don't mind my asking--but I _should_ like
to know why you call me 'Kilmeny'?"

"Because you _looked_ Kilmeny. Don't you know the poem? She was stolen
away by the fairies, and brought up in the place that George Macdonald
calls _At the Back of the North Wind_. Then:

'When seven long years were gone and fled,
When grief was forgotten and hope was dead,
And scarce was remembered Kilmeny's name:
Late, late in the gloaming Kilmeny home came'.

Well, you see, I'm going to paint you just coming home, in the evening
glow with the yellow light behind, and the thistles and brown bracken.
The sheaf of golden ragwort will be like a wand, and you'll still have
the spell of fairyland in your face. I'm not sure if I shan't put in a
few half-transparent fairies escorting you back; they'd blend among the
thistledown. I can see it all in my mind's eye, if I can only manage to
paint it. You'll be sure to come in the brown dress?"

"Of course I will, though it's a terribly old one I keep for scramble
walks."

"That doesn't matter in the least. It's the colour I want. The whole
scheme was a harmony in brown."

Lorraine went twice to stand for Miss Lindsay on the common, and several
times afterwards to her studio to be sketched with more detail. Her new
friend made three or four separate studies for the picture, intending to
work from them afterwards in oils.

"I've sent for quite a decent-sized canvas," she said. "And I'm going
to try one or two experiments. I'm not often pleased with my own work,
but I like these studies, and feel inspired to do a three by
two-and-a-half. Kilmeny, I believe you're going to prove my mascot!"

When Lorraine tried to analyse afterwards why she had at once taken such
an extreme liking for Miss Lindsay, she decided that the attraction lay
in her voice. On some sensitive temperaments the quality of a voice has
as much effect as personal beauty. A rasping, sharp, fretful or
uncompromising tone may be as disagreeable as a wrong accent, but the
harps of our spirits, finely and delicately strung, vibrate and thrill
to kindly, cheerfully spoken words. The friendship between the two
progressed apace. Mrs.