4. A pretty colour when she gets hot or excited. 5. Quite fascinating brown eyes. 6. Hair that would be lovely if it were only decently done, instead of scooped away and screwed into a tight knob at the back. Anybody with these points might make so much of them, if they only knew how to use them properly. Diana wondered if it would be possible to buy a book on the secrets of fascination. It was just the element that was lacking. Putting personality aside, she began probing into the extent of her friend's mental equipment. She induced her to bring out the water-colour sketches of former years, and even wrung from her a half promise that some day--when the weather was nice, and if she had time--she would paint a picture of the church. "The boys would each like a sketch of their mother's to take to school with them," decreed Diana. "Monty would have his framed and hang it in his study, and show it to all his friends as _your_ work." "Why, so he might," said Mrs. Fleming, looking much surprised. The idea had evidently never occurred to her before. From painting, Diana passed to other accomplishments. Mrs. Fleming rendered the accompaniments to Elsie's violin pieces and Meg's songs with a delicacy of touch that revealed the true musician. "I wish you'd play something to me," begged Diana one day when the girls' practising was over and their mother was rising from the piano. "_I_, my dear child! I never play now." "Why not?" "I gave up my music long ago, when I got married." "You haven't forgotten it, though." "Well, not altogether, of course. I'm a good reader still." "Please!" urged Diana. And, to content her impetuous visitor, Mrs. Fleming gave in. She pulled a volume of Chopin from the stand, and began the twelfth nocturne. It was years since she had played it, but as she touched the keys the old spirit crept back into her fingers, and the notes came rippling out delicately and easily. Diana, sunk back in the recesses of the long basket-chair, listened fascinated. She loved music when it was of a superior quality, and she did not often get the chance of hearing playing such as this. "More! More!" she begged, when the nocturne came to an end. The ice once broken, Mrs. Fleming, as much to her own astonishment as to that of the family, actually revived her interest in the piano. She hunted out her old pieces and began to practise them. She said it was to amuse Diana, but it was evident that enjoyment was mixed with her philanthropy. As a girl she had studied under a good master, and she had much natural talent. She would improvise sometimes, and even compose little things of her own. "Why, my dear," said her husband, peeping into the drawing-room one evening just at the conclusion of the "Moonlight Sonata", "this takes me back to the time when we were engaged! I've been sitting listening in my study."