Cheriton came in after a few minutes, followed by the aunt, to whom Heriot was presented. He found her primitive, and far less educated than her brother. She was very happy to see dear Dick again, and she was sorry that she must lose him again so soon. Dear Mamie, though, would be a consolation. A third-rate suburban villa was stamped upon her; he could imagine her making hideous antimacassars for forbidding armchairs, and that a visit to an Eastbourne boarding-house was the event of her life. She wore jet earrings, and stirred her tea with vast energy. With the circulation of the tea, strangers drifted into the room, and the conversation was continued in undertones. "Have you been talking to Mamie about her intentions?" Cheriton inquired. "We've been chatting, yes. What steps do you mean to take, Miss Cheriton? What shall you do?" "I propose to go to the dramatic agents," she said, "and ask them to hear me recite." "Dramatic agents must be kept fairly busy, I should say. What if they don't consent?" "I shall recite to them." "You are firm!" he laughed. "I am eager, Mr Heriot. I have longed till I am sick with longing. London has been my aim since I was a little girl. I have dreamt of it!--I've gone to sleep hoping that I might; I couldn't recall one of its streets, but in dreams I've reached it over and over again. The way was generally across Lincoln Park, in Chicago; and all of a sudden I was among theatres and lights, and it was London!" "And you were an actress. And the audience showered bouquets!" "I always woke up before I was an actress. But now I'm here really, I mean to try to wake London up." "I hope you will," he said. Her faith in herself was a little infectious, since she was beautiful. If she had been plain, he would have considered her conceited. "Have I gushed?" she said, colouring. He was not sure but what she had. "She's like her father," said Cheriton gaily; "get her on the subject of art, and her tongue runs away with her. We're all children, we artists--up in the skies, or down in the dumps. No medium with us! She must recite to _you_ one of these days, Heriot; I want you to hear her." "Will you, Miss Cheriton?" "If you like," she said. "Dear Mamie must recite to _me_," murmured Mrs. Baines; "I'm quite looking forward to it. What sort of pieces do you say, dear? Nice pieces?" "She knows the parts of Juliet, and Rosalind, and Pauline by heart," said Cheriton, ignoring his sister. "I think you'll say her Balcony Scene is almost as fine a rendering as you've ever heard. There's a delicacy, a spiritual----" "Has she been trained?" asked Heriot; "I understood she was quite a novice."