"Never mind," Angel said consolingly after a few minutes' silence, during which she had reflected that probably Gerald did not mean to be greedy, "you will have your usual pocket-money from father on Monday. It will not be long to wait till then. What are you going to put in your garden?" she inquired, with the laudable desire of changing the conversation to a pleasanter subject. "I don't know that I shall till it up at all. I don't much care for gardening—it's too much work." "But I thought you told Uncle Edward you wanted a piece of ground for yourself?" "I've changed my mind. I don't care about it now." Gerald was evidently in a bad temper, recognizing which fact, Angel wisely held her peace, and continued her work in silence. "It's a nuisance father has asked Gilbert Mickle here this afternoon," said the boy presently in a grumbling tone. "I don't like him a bit, do you?" "I—I hardly know," Angel responded, with some hesitation. "I am very sorry for him because he's lame, and I'm afraid he isn't very happy. I think he looks so sad." "He looks awfully bad-tempered. Tom says the best way is to take no notice of him if he's snappy. Oh, Tom didn't say anything against him, only that when Gilbert's in a temper it's better not to answer him back because he's so sharp, you're sure to get the worst of it. Tom thinks a good bit of Gilbert, really—says he's most awfully clever! I don't believe he'd hear a word against him. I wish Tom was coming this afternoon too." But when Gilbert appeared, punctually at three o'clock, he was alone. He found Mr. Bailey leaning over the front gate; and Mr. Willis was walking up and down in front of the house, in the sunshine, with his little daughter. The lame boy was greeted very cordially, and made to feel welcome. He was shy at first, but when he was taken into the studio and shown some of the artist's work, he lost all feeling of self-consciousness and talked without restraint. "Where is Gerald?" Mr. Willis asked suddenly, turning to Angel, who was herself wondering what had become of her brother. "I don't know, father," she answered; "I have not seen him since dinner. I think he went out, but I am not sure." "Perhaps he is in the house, and does not know our visitor has arrived," Mr. Bailey suggested; "he may be in his own room." "I will go and see if I can find him," Angel said, seeing annoyance in her father's face, and rightly guessing that he was vexed at Gerald's absence. But although she searched upstairs and downstairs, in the stable and outhouses, and even in the orchard beyond the back garden, Gerald was not to be found; and she was reluctantly obliged to return to the studio, and confess that he was not on the premises. Mr. Willis made no comment, but his face expressed his displeasure; he was showing his unfinished picture to his guest, who was standing before it with flushed cheeks and eyes glowing with enthusiasm. "Isn't it beautiful?" Angel said softly. "Do you like it?"