"Oh, yes,--have you heard of him?" returned Waveney, _naively_. "He is an artist, but his pictures do not sell, and he has only his drawing lessons. That is why I want to help him, because he works so hard and looks so tired; and Mollie--that is my sister--is a little lame, and cannot do much." "Is that all your family? You do not speak of your mother." Miss Harford was looking at the girl a little strangely. "She is dead," returned Waveney, in a low voice; "she died when Mollie and I were ten years old, but there is a young brother, Noel." Then Miss Harford turned to her aunt. "Aunt Sara, I really think it would be best for Althea to see Miss Ward herself. You know I have to drive over to Erpingham now. It is quite early in the afternoon," she continued, looking at Waveney. "Can you not come with me? We shall be at the Red House in three-quarters of an hour. I could drop you at Sloane Square station by seven. It will be a pleasant drive, and the evenings are still light until eight." Waveney hesitated. What would Mollie say to her long absence? But then, her father never returned home before eight on his Norwood days. The drive tempted her, and then, the idea of seeing Erpingham. "If you are sure that I shall be back by seven," she said; and then Miss Harford rang the bell and ordered the carriage. "Althea will give us tea. Come, Miss Ward." And then Mrs. Mainwaring held out her soft, little hand to the girl. "Good-bye, my dear. You will be as happy as a bird at the Red House. Give my love to Althea, Doreen, and tell her to rest her poor eyes." Waveney thought of Cinderella and the pumpkin coach as she stepped into the luxurious carriage. The novelty of the position, the enjoyment of the swift, smooth motion, and the amusement of looking out at the crowded street, completely absorbed her, and for some time Miss Harford made no attempt to draw her into conversation. But presently she began to talk, and then Waveney found herself answering all sorts of questions about herself and Mollie--how they amused themselves, and why her father's pictures did not sell; and then Waveney, who was very girlish and frank, told her all their disappointment about "King Canute," and Miss Harford listened with such kindly interest that Waveney felt quite grateful to her. "Father was so low and cast down about it last night, he said he should never have the heart to paint a picture again, because the dealers were so hard on him; and I am afraid he meant it, too. Oh, what a nice grey church! And actually, we are coming to a river. Oh, how picturesque those reddish-brown sails look in the sunshine!" "This is Dereham," returned her companion. "It is not such a very long drive, is it? In little more than ten minutes we shall have reached our destination;" and then she began pointing out various objects of interest--another church, the shops in High Street where they dealt, then a high, narrow house, very dull and gloomy-looking.