dith smiled in turn, affectionately enough, but with a wistful reserve.
"It is a constitutional defect--even national, according to you. How
shall I hope to change, at this late day? But what is it you want me to
tell you?--I forget."

"The Russian thing. To go to Vienna, where we get our passports, and
then to Cracow, and through to Kief, which they say is awfully well
worth while--and next Moscow--and so on to St. Petersburg, in time
to see the ice break up. It is only in winter that you see the
characteristic Russia: that one has always heard. With the furs and the
sledges, and the three horses galloping over the snow--it seems to me it
must be the best thing in Europe--if you can call Russia Europe.
That's the way it presents itself to me--but then I was brought up in
a half-Arctic climate, and I love that sort of thing--in its proper
season. It is different with you. In England you don't know what a real
winter is. And so I have to make quite sure that you think you would
like the Russian experiment."

The other laughed gently. "But if I don't know what a real winter is,
how can I tell whether I will like it or not? All I do know is that I am
perfectly willing to go and find out. Oh yes--truly--I should like very
much to go."

Miss Madden sighed briefly. "All right," she said, but with a notable
absence of conviction in her tone.

A space of silence ensued, as she opened and glanced through another
note, the envelope of which had borne no postmark. She pouted her lips
over the contents of this missive, and raised her eyebrows in token of
surprise, but as she laid it down she looked with a frank smile at her
companion.

"It's from our young friend," she explained, genially--"the
painter-boy--Mr. D'Aubigny. It is to remind me of a promise he says I
made--that when I came to London he should paint my portrait. I don't
think I promised anything of the kind--but I suppose that is a detail.
It's all my unfortunate hair. They must have gone by this time--they
were to go very early, weren't they?"

Lady Cressage glanced at the clock. "It was 8:40, I think--fully half an
hour ago," she answered, with a painstaking effect of indifference.

"Curious conglomeration"--mused the other. "The boy and girl are so
civilized, and their uncle is so rudimentary. I'm afraid they are
spoiling him just as the missionaries spoil the noble savage. They
ought to go away and leave him alone. As a barbarian he was rather
effective--bu