Again and again Anthony painted her. She sat for him with untiring patience and devotion. She was always entirely at her ease with him, and prattled away quite simply of the life that seemed to him so inexpressibly hard and dreary. Only once had he interfered on her behalf at Ribston Hall, and then sorely against Meg's will. She was sitting for him one day, with her veil of flaming hair spread round her, when she said, suddenly, "I wonder why it is incorrect to send invitations by post to people living in the same town?" "But it isn't," Anthony objected. "Everybody does it." "Not in schools," Meg said firmly. "Mrs. Ross-Morton will never send invitations to people living in London through the post--she says it isn't polite. They must go by hand." "I never heard such nonsense," Anthony exclaimed crossly. "If she doesn't send 'em by post, how _does_ she send them?" "I take them generally, in the evening, after school, and deliver them at all the houses. Some are fairly near, of course--a lot of her friends live in Regent's Park--but sometimes I have to go quite a long way by bus. I don't mind that in summer, when it's light, but in winter it's horrid going about the lonely roads ... People speak to one...." Anthony Ross stepped from behind his easel. "And what do you do?" he asked. "I run," Meg said simply, "and I can generally run much faster than they do ... but it's a little bit frightening." "It's infernal," Anthony said furiously. "I shall speak to Amelia at once. You are never to do it again." In vain did Meg plead, almost with tears, that he would do nothing of the kind. He was roused and firm. He did "speak to Amelia." He astonished that good lady as much as he annoyed her. Nevertheless Mrs. Ross-Morton used the penny post for her invitations as long as Meg remained at Ribston Hall. At the end of two years Major Morton, who had removed from Bedford to Cheltenham, wrote a long, querulous letter to his sister-in-law to the effect that if--like the majority of girls nowadays--his daughter chose to spend her life far from his sheltering care, it was time she earned something. Mrs. Ross-Morton replied that only now was Meg beginning to repay all the expense incurred on her behalf in the way of board, clothing and tuition; and it was most unreasonable to expect any salary for quite another year. Major Morton decided to remove Meg from Ribston Hall. Many acrimonious letters passed between her aunt and her father before this was finally accomplished, and Meg left "under a cloud." To her great astonishment, her meek little uncle appeared at Paddington to see her off. Just as the train was starting he thrust an envelope into her hand. "It hasn't been fair," he almost shouted--for the train was already beginning to move. "You worked hard, you deserved some pay ... a little present ... but please don't mention it to your aunt ... She is so decided in her views...."