ith the drawing-room distant about two yards
from the front-door escape was hopeless, and she was obliged to
introduce the visitors with what composure she might.

To the credit of their breeding, be it said, Philippa and Madge rose
nobly to the occasion, and welcomed the unwelcome guests without either
apology or confusion. Madge smiled sweetly through her wisps of hair,
and discussed the weather in orthodox fashion, before sailing out of the
room to clothe herself in more suitable attire. Hope was proud of her
sisters, and unselfishly annoyed that she should appear to better
advantage than they; for she had dressed early after her return from a
wet and tiring walk. She met her cousin's curious gaze, and sat down
beside her with a friendly smile.

"You are Avice. I have so often wondered about you?"

"You are Hope. I have a picture of you as a little girl. It is so
pretty! You haven't changed a bit."

"Oh, oh, you shouldn't! But how nice of you, all the same! I love
compliments," confessed pretty Hope, blushing in bewitching fashion
between gratification and embarrassment. She looked at Avice in her
turn, and decided that she was not at all pretty. But, oh, what
clothes! What a dream of a hat! What distracting ruffles and laces
peeping from between the sables! What twinkling lights of diamond
brooches! She paused for a moment to do obeisance before a vision of
herself clad in similar garments, then continued, with a smile, "I am so
glad to meet you! It feels lonely to be absolutely without friends in
this great London, and so far we know no one at all."

"You are the musical one, aren't you?" Avice asked curiously. "You are
all geniuses, father says, and determined to make a name in the world.
Have you begun work? What have you done so far?"

Hope smiled with pardonable satisfaction.

"Well, really, I think we have made a good start. Theo has interviewed
one of the most influential editors in Fleet Street, and has been asked
to send MSS to his paper. Madge has sent in her two show-pictures to
the Slade School, and is to begin regular work there at the half-term.
Meantime she is studying the different exhibitions and collections, and,
as she says, picking up `quite valuable hints' from old masters. She is
so amusing! She comes home every evening with absurd accounts of her
adventures. Most people would find it rather dull spending a whole day
at the National Gallery, for instance, but Madg