Then when she had watched old Backkhouse make his farewell, and turn towards the gate, she hastily opened a black silk bag hanging from her wrist, and thrust the letter into it. After which she walked on, meeting the old man in the lane, and run into by Tommy, who, head foremost, was rushing home to shew his glorious Haggan to his 'mummy.' Nelly's face at sight of her sister stiffened insensibly. 'Aren't you very tired, Bridget? Have you walked all the way? Yes, you _do_ look tired! Have you had tea?' 'Yes, at Windermere.' Bridget cleared the chair on which Nelly had placed her paint-box, and sat down. She was silent a little and then said abruptly-- 'It's a horrid bore, I shall have to go to London again.' 'Again?' Nelly's look of surprise was natural. Bridget had returned from another long stay in the Bloomsbury boarding-house early in October, and it was now only the middle of the month. But Bridget's doings were always a great mystery to Nelly. She was translating something from the Spanish--that was all Nelly knew--and also, that when an offer had been made to her through a friend, of some translating work for the Foreign Office, she had angrily refused it. She would not, she said, be a slave to any public office. 'Won't it be awfully expensive?' said Nelly after a pause, as Bridget did not answer. The younger sister was putting her painting things away, and making ready to go in. For though the day had been wonderfully warm for October, the sun had just set over Bowfell, and the air had grown suddenly chilly. 'Well, I can't help it,' said Bridget, rather roughly. 'I shall have to go.' Something in her voice made Nelly look at her. 'I say you _are_ tired! Come in and lie down a little. That walk from Grasmere's too much for you!' Bridget submitted with most unusual docility. The sisters entered the house together. 'I'll go upstairs for a little,' said Bridget. 'I shall be all right by supper.' Then, as she slowly mounted the stairs, a rather gaunt and dragged figure in her dress of grey alpaca, she turned to say-- 'I met Sir William on the road just now. He passed me in the car, and waved his hand. He called out something--I couldn't hear it.' 'Perhaps to say he would come to supper,' said Nelly, her face brightening. 'I'll go and see what there is.' Bridget went upstairs. Her small raftered room was invaded by the last stormy light of the autumn evening. The open casement window admitted a cold wind. Bridget shut it, with a shiver. But instead of lying down, she took a chair by the window, absently removed her hat, and sat there thinking. The coppery light from the west illumined her face with its strong discontented lines, and her hands, which were large, but white and shapely--a source indeed of personal pride to their owner.