"I should have thought so myself," returned Ingram; and then he took up one of the cards. Waveney thought he was a little nervous--his manner was so grave. "These are very pretty," he said, quietly. "I thought so the other day. The design is charming. May I ask if your sister ever takes orders for them?" "Yes, indeed; a lady has commissioned Mollie to paint these. She is to have twelve shillings for the set." "Twelve shillings!" and here Ingram's voice was quite indignant. "Miss Ward," he continued, turning round to Mollie, who had just re-entered the room, "it is a shame that you should be so fleeced. Why, the design is worth double that sum. Now there is a friend of mine who would willingly give you two guineas for a set of six. She is very artistic, and fond of pretty things, and if you are willing to undertake the commission I will write to her to-morrow." Willing! Mollie's eyes were shining with pleasure. If she could only earn the two guineas! They should furnish sop for Cerberus--_alias_ Barker. Waveney's earnings would not be due until Christmas, and the constant nagging of the aggrieved butcher was making Ann's life miserable. "'Master says if meat's wanted it must be paid for, and he does not hold with cheap cuts and long reckonings.' Drat the man! I hates the very sight of him," remarked Ann, wrathfully, to her usual confidante, Mrs. Muggins--for with toothache, a swollen face, and an irascible butcher, life was certainly not worth living. "Then I will write to my--to the lady to-morrow." Both Mollie and Waveney noticed the little slip. "I wonder if he is married," Waveney said to herself. But Mollie's inward comment was, "Very likely Mr. Ingram is engaged, but he does not know us well enough to tell us so." Mr. Ingram was trying to regain his airy manner, but a close observer would have detected how keenly he was watching the two girls as he talked. Nothing escaped him--the new hat trimmings, and the faded hat; Waveney's worn little shoe, and the white seams in Mollie's blue serge. Cinderella--he always called her Cinderella to himself--was no whit smarter than she had been the other day; her hair was rather rough, as though the wind had loosened it. And yet with what ease and sprightliness they chattered to him! Their refined voices, their _piquante_, girlish ways, free from all self-consciousness, delighted the young man, who had travelled all over the world, and had not found anything so simple, and artless, and real, as these two girls. It was Waveney to whom he directed his conversation, and with whom he carried on his gay badinage; but when he spoke to Mollie, his voice seemed to soften unconsciously, as though he were speaking to a child. CHAPTER X. "IT IS THE VOICE OF SHEILA." "In the grey old chapel cloister I sit and muse alone, Till the dial's time-worn fingers Mark the moment when we twain Shall in paradisal sunlight Walk together, once again."