Audrey had only spoken the simple truth when she owned that Michael's approval was necessary to her perfect enjoyment of her friend. She might still maintain her own opinions of Mrs. Blake. Nevertheless, the first fine flavour of her pleasure had been destroyed by Michael's severe criticism; the delicate bloom had been impaired. She would hold fast to her new friend; she would even be kinder to her, as though to make up for other people's hard speeches; but much of her enthusiasm must be locked in her own breast. 'What is the use of talking on a subject on which we should only disagree?' she said to him a week or two afterwards, when he had rebuked her playfully for not telling him something. 'It was only a trifling matter connected with Mrs. Blake.' And when he heard that, Michael held his peace. He had been thrown constantly into Mrs. Blake's company since their first meeting, but as yet he had not seen fit to change his opinions. But in spite of this little rift in her perfect harmony, Audrey thoroughly enjoyed the next month; she was almost sorry that the vacation was so near. It had been a very gay month. Relays of visitors--distant relations or mere friends--had been invited to Woodcote and Hillside. Mrs. Ross's garden-party had rivalled Mrs. Charrington's, and there had been a succession of picnics, driving parties, and small select dinners at all the Hill houses. But in spite of her many engagements--her afternoons on the cricket-field, the tennis tournament, in which she and Cyril Blake won, and various other gaieties--Audrey had not neglected Mollie. Twice a week she devoted an hour and a half to her pupil. When the music-lesson was over, Audrey would read French with her or correct her exercises. She was a very conscientious mistress, and would not allow Mollie to waste any of her time in idle gossip. When she was putting away her books, Mollie's voluble tongue would make amends for the enforced silence. 'Oh, Miss Ross,' she exclaimed one day, 'do you know, Cyril has given mamma such a beautiful present! You will never guess what it is!' Audrey prudently refrained from any guesses; besides, she was still correcting Mollie's translation. 'It is a black silk dress--a real beauty, as mamma says. She has borrowed Miss Marshall's last copy of the Queen, and she means to make it up herself. Mamma is so clever! It is to have a long train; at least, a moderately long train, and an open bodice--open in front, you know--with tulle folds. Oh, I forget exactly; but mamma explained it to me so nicely!' 'It was very kind of your brother,' observed Audrey gravely. For once Mollie was not checked.