Katrine bent over the pieces, turning them right side up with rapid fingers. She saw a mass of dull grey green, a second of baffling white and grey, a third of a pronounced white, and dotted among them welcome patches of blue and red. "Colour, please!" she cried quickly. "Let's dash for the colours, and trust to luck for the rest." "Right ho!" he said, sweeping the pieces towards him. Katrine had an intuition that he approved of her choice, but he made no comment, and together they bent over the detached fragments of blue and red, which appeared at this stage so dishearteningly alike. Katrine was utterly at sea, but Bedford's greater experience soon scented a clew. "The blue is sky, which goes on top; the light beggars are clouds. Here's a quaint hunchback little chap. Look out for a scoop for him as a start." "Here's a scoop!" cried Katrine, picking out another fragment, and wonder of wonders! it fitted,--absolutely, unmistakably fitted into every curve, so that there could be no doubt as to its right to be there. To fit a piece at the very first effort,--here was success indeed! Bedford cheered, Katrine hitched her chair nearer the table, rubbing her hands with an altogether ridiculous sense of elation. "How fine! _And_ easy! Much easier than I imagined. Where's the next?" "The next is probably at the bottom of the Indian Ocean, or will pretend to be, until we've exhausted ourselves looking for it, and have gone on to something else, when it will jump out and, figuratively speaking, hit us in the face. It's a way they have. What about this person?" "Certainly not; you want a jagged edge. Nor that, it's too square. I'm afraid you have not much eye for contour!" "Nor you for colour! That shade's too light... Here's a fellow like a button-hook. Where's his button? I knew an old maid who used to try each blessed bit in turn, until she'd gone through the whole fandango. If it shows a well-regulated mind to work at the rim, what does _that_ mean in the way of perseverance?" Katrine's quest for the button was disturbed by the reflection that she had evidently proved herself devoid of a well-regulated mind. Regarded as a test of character, her "dash for the colours" would seem to prove a predisposition towards impulse and daring, the last qualities of which she was usually accused. Friends at home had agreed in pronouncing Katrine Beverley all that was prudent and cautious, and she herself had agreed in their verdict, yet surely those qualities had been upon the surface only, since it was this very prudent and cautious maid who had exchanged love letters with an unknown man--who was even now on her way across the world to meet him! "I think," said a small voice suddenly, "the other way is better after all. I think, if you don't mind, I'll try the frame!"