house, and Morland's fearfully taken with her. They
play duets by the hour together. Father's going to paint her as 'The
Angel of Victory' in that huge cartoon he's designing for the Chagstead
Town Hall. I don't think she's a scrap like an angel! She pats Lilith
and Constable on the head, just for show, but she looks terrified if
they come near her smart frocks. Violet detests her. It's the one thing
Violet and I agree about. We've been squabbling over everything else
lately. It's a weary world!"

"Madame's fascinating enough on the surface," agreed Lorraine
thoughtfully, "but she's not the kind of woman I admire. Somehow I don't
quite trust her. Do you believe in first impressions? So do I. Well, my
first feeling about her was distinctly non-attractive. We ran away from
each other mentally, like two pieces of magnetized steel. She's very
sweet to me at my music lessons; but I'm sure it's all put on, and she
doesn't care an atom. It's an entirely different thing from my Saturday
lessons."

One great reason why Lorraine had not, with the rest of the school,
fallen under the spell of the fascinating Russian lady, was the intense
affection she had formed for her art teacher. She could not worship at
both shrines, and she felt strongly that Margaret Lindsay was infinitely
more worthy of admiration. The studio down by the harbour was still her
artistic Mecca. She had a carte blanche invitation to go whenever she
liked. She turned in there one Friday afternoon on her way from school.

"Carina," she said, flopping into a basket-chair by the fireside, "I'm
just fed up to-day!"

The friendship, which had begun conventionally with the orthodox "Miss
Lindsay", now expressed itself by "Margaret", "Peggy", or such pet terms
as "Carina" and "Love-Angel".

"What's the matter?" asked her friend, squeezing a little extra
flake-white on to her palette, and putting the cap on the tube again.
"It isn't often _you're_ fed up with life!"

"Everything's gone wrong!" declared Lorraine tragically. "My head aches,
and I didn't know my literature, and Miss Janet glared at me, and maths.
were a failure this morning too, and I felt scratchy and squabbled with
everybody. I'm afraid I was rather hard on some of those kids, though
they were the limit! Carina, when _you_ were at school, did you
sometimes have a fling out all round, or were you always good?"

"I confess," said Carina humorously, "that, when I trod the slippery
paths of youth, I