It did not occur to him to doubt that Mona was practically a fixture at Borrowness. His aunt had certainly spoken as if she were, on the one occasion when Mona had been mentioned between them. In truth, the old lady had taken for granted that he was referring to the real original niece, of whose departure for America she had never even heard; and Ralph knew no one else in the neighbourhood who was at all likely to give him incidental information about Miss Simpson's assistant. She must of course have been brought up elsewhere--so much at least he could tell from her accent; and, for the rest, he had always maintained that, in these latter days, the daughters of lower middle-class people stand a better chance of a good education than any other girls in the community: it was not altogether marvellous if one in a thousand made a good use of it. CHAPTER XIX. "LEAVES OF GRASS." The next day, while Mrs Hamilton was enjoying her afternoon nap, Dudley seated himself as usual with his books; but his head ached, and he soon gave up the attempt to study. "For every hour I work to-day, I shall waste two to-morrow," he said; and taking a volume of poetry from the shelf, he strode down to the beach. Other people besides Mona knew of "Castle Maclean"; perhaps some people had even discovered her predilection for it. Dudley reached the spot in about half the time that she would have taken, and scrambled up the huge uneven steps. There, comfortably ensconced at the top, sat the subject of his thoughts; a sketch-book open on her lap, and a well-used, battered paint-box at her side. Dudley was too much of an artist to dabble in colours himself, but he knew one paint-box from another, and he was duly impressed. "I beg your pardon!" he said. "So you know this place?" "It is my private property," she said with serene dignity, very different from her bright, alert manner in the shop,--"Castle Maclean." He bowed low. "Shall I disturb you if I stay?" "Not in the least." She put her head on one side, and critically examined her sky. "Not unless your hat absolutely comes between me and my subject." "Change in the weather, is not it?" "Has it not been glorious!" she said enthusiastically, laying down her brush. "This rocky old coast was in its element. It was something to live for, to see those great waves dashing themselves into gigantic fountains of spray." "You don't mean to say you were down here?" "Every minute that I could spare. Why not? A wetting does one no harm in a primitive world like this." She glanced at his book and went on with her painting. Neither of them had come there to talk, and why should they feel called upon to do it? "This is scarcely a lady's book," he said,--though he would not have thought this remark necessary to a "Girton girl,"--"but, if I may, I think I could find one or two things that you might like to hear." She smiled, well pleased. She had not forgotten how