Thus he ran on, apparently in emulation of Tennyson's brook, and Evarne had nothing to do but look intelligent, and interpose a brief question occasionally to show that she was attending. He only ceased when the door opened to admit a little woman who had approached unheard. The newcomer was very pale, and looked fragile and subdued. Her thin hair was drawn neatly behind her ears, her shabby black gown hung in folds over her flat chest, and she slouched in list slippers so many sizes too large that had she ventured to lift her feet in walking, she would inevitably have stepped out of her footgear, and left it behind her on the floor. "Ah ha! Allow me to introduce my wife," said Mr. Punter. Evarne rose and shook hands. "How do you like your part?" was the salutation of the lady of the house. The girl discreetly avoided a direct answer. "It has made me very anxious to hear the whole play." Fortunately the little woman considered this response as entirely satisfactory. She smiled complacently, and commenced to nod her head so steadily, it appeared in danger of becoming loosened. Mr. Punter likewise seemed to swell with pride. At length he could keep the great secret no longer. "I may as well tell you first as last, Miss Stornway. You are now addressing the authoress of 'Caledonia's Bard.'" Evarne was indeed taken aback at this piece of information. Barely succeeding in suppressing a start, she murmured something she fondly hoped was duly appropriate to the occasion. Evidently she was successful, for Mrs. Punter ceased nodding, and thanked her heartily. "And now, where are you going to put up, my dear?" she inquired. "Do you know Glasgow at all?" "I've never been here before, but I expect I can find diggings easily enough. Rehearsals begin to-morrow, don't they?" "Well, that was what we expected," responded Mr. Punter. "But a few of the principals have not arrived yet. Still, a short delay will enable you to become word-perfect in your part, won't it? And that is so important." "Yes-s. But when does the tour open, then?" "Of course that depends entirely on how the rehearsals progress. Now, you must have something to eat before you start house-hunting. You won't mind going into the kitchen?" Mrs. Punter slouched on ahead, and Evarne followed to another room at the rear of the house. This also was practically devoid of furniture, but doubtless derived its name from the small oil-stove that stood on the table. The window looked out on to what had formerly been a garden, but which now wore that melancholy and desolate aspect that characterises a once well-tended spot that has long been utterly neglected. The lawn was a field; the flower-beds lost in weeds; the gravel walks overgrown; boisterous winds had snapped the slender stem of a young tree, which now lay wilted upon the ground. Altogether, it was a scene in no way conducive to high spirits.