its undue size
would have been strikingly pretty. She looked at the sisters, showing
her straight, white teeth in the most friendly of smiles, and squeezed
Hope's hand until she winced with the pain.

"How do you do, dear?" she said. "How d'do, dear?" to Philippa.
"Wretched day, isn't it? So good of you to come! Sit down and rest. I
always flop on the sofa the moment I come in. So tiring dragging about,
isn't it? But you are thin. Wait until you get fat like me."

Her shoulders shook; her eyes danced; the dimples dipped in her round,
pink cheeks. Philippa and Hope were obliged to laugh in sympathy, but
it was very embarrassing; she evidently mistook them for old friends.
Hope cleared her throat and began the rehearsed explanation.

"I am Hope Charrington, and this is my sister. You knew my father--by
name at least. You used to sing some of his songs."

Miss Caldecott looked blank; then she began to laugh. It appeared that
she was always laughing.

"Then I didn't know you after all! Heaps of people come to see me, and
I've the silliest memory--always forget what I ought to remember.
Doesn't make much difference, does it? I know you _now_. Sung your
father's songs, did I? Charrington! Charrington! Don't remember.
What were they called, do you know?"

Hope's heart sank. She had expected the name to act as an open-sesame,
and it was not even recognised.

"One was `A Song of Summer,'" she said slowly, "and another `Into the
Night.'"

"La-la-la-La! Ta-ta-ta-Ta! Refrain went like that, didn't it? I
remember. Pretty change in the second verse. High G sustained in the
last bar. I used to bless him when I came to that note. And he is
dead, you say? What a pity. So clever, too! Do you compose? You have
a musical face."

Here was a lead, indeed! Hope flushed with eagerness, and her voice
broke with a little nervous tremor. Miss Caldecott was so friendly, so
open, so far removed from being formidable that it was impossible to
believe that she could refuse her request.

"Oh yes, I do. That's what I came to speak to you about to-day. We
have come up to London to try to find work, for we are very poor. As
you had liked father's songs, I was going to ask if you would be so
very, very kind as to try one of mine. I have it with me now. Messrs
Holding and Co. published one for me before, and if you liked this, and
would promise to sing it, they would be so much more willing to accept
it.