"Not a bit of it. Jist after you'd gorn comes a letter for me from that very nice gentleman, Mr. Topham--the same as I sat for six months ago as the Countess o' Suffolk, saying as 'ow she wouldn't 'ave 'er 'ead cut off." "I remember." "Well, now--well. What do you think? You'd never guess! 'E wants me to go to Scotland for two 'ole months to pose for 'im out of doors all among the gorse and 'eather and 'eath! It's a bit o' kindness on Mr. Topham's part, for I s'pose there's elderly ladies in Scotland 'e could paint, but 'e allus was good to me. I'm to telegraph me answer and go on Thursday mornin'. I'd like to go ever so much--wouldn't I jist, my gosh!--but I'm worryin' about 'ow you'd git on without me, Evarne." "Oh, you ought not to miss such a splendid offer. Let me see the letter, may I?" After glancing through its contents the girl handed it back. "She really ought to go, Geoff, oughtn't she? Mr. Topham offers very generous terms, including the fare both ways. She needs a change. Don't you, Philia? It will be splendid for you to get out of London this hot weather. I only wish a holiday could be managed for poor little Evarne. Yes, I decide for you--you must accept." "That's all very fine for me," demurred the old woman; "but what about you, left all alone in the 'ouse?" "Ah, indeed!" demanded Geoff. "What will you do?" "That's jist what I was wonderin' as I came along 'ere," declared Philia. "Comin' 'ome tired as she does, 'ardly able to stand sometimes--pore child--and not a soul there to say a word to 'er, or git 'er so much as a cup o' tea! I'm afraid I ought to tell Mr. Topham as 'ow I can't come." Evarne did not answer for a few seconds. "It does sound a touching picture, certainly. You make me quite sorry for myself," she confessed. Then with a sudden forced renewal of brightness: "But there, it can't be helped. Any number of models live alone always. Of course Philia must go to Scotland, and I mustn't be selfish and lazy." "It ain't a question of bein' jist selfish and lazy," rejoined the old woman rather testily. "I ain't sure it would be right of me to go gallawantin' jist now. 'Twould be different if yer was quite well and strong. But I ask yer to answer honest. Ain't this 'ot weather upsettin' yer? Ain't yer bein' overworked or somethin'? She 'arf fainted again last night, sir. She ain't so strong by 'alf as she likes to make out. I didn't ought to go, I knows it, though I do want to." "Evarne, you told me you felt better," cried Geoff in mingled reproach and alarm. "So I am this morning," she rejoined, smiling at him. "Now, you run off home, Philia, and think about packing." But the old woman shook her head, lingered and looked at Geoff with eyes full of doubt and anxiety. "Do you think I ought to leave 'er lonely, sir?" He was decidedly uneasy at the idea. "I don't like the notion--really I don't. Look here, can't you get a servant?" Evarne smiled again, this time somewhat ruefully.