“If that elm were cut down you could see my window,” said Sally. “Which room do you like the best?” said Maggie. “It is hard to say. The other room looks on the green, but here there is a nice large wardrobe, and I don't see how I can get on without a wardrobe.” “If you like the other room best, sir, I can turn out the chest of drawers.” “Oh, that would be very nice if you can manage it, the room will do very well. I can have a bath every morning?” “Yes, sir; there will be no difficulty about that.” Maggie had taken off her hat and was settling her hair before the glass. Sally opened the wardrobe, revealing various petticoats and skirts, but she thought of it as full of Frank's light overcoats, the scarves he wore round his throat when he went out in evening clothes, the patent leather shoes in the corner. Suddenly the conversation dropped, and after a pause Frank said: “I think these rooms suit me very well, but I can do nothing; it is impossible for me to say if I can take them until I find out if there is any place in the immediate neighbourhood that I could convert into a studio. Do you know of any such place?” “No, I do not, sir.” “Mr. Escott was thinking of seeing the smith about his house. I wonder if Town would let it to Mr. Escott for a consideration,” said Maggie. “Of course, I should have to get leave to make what alterations I pleased.” “I don't suppose the house belongs to Town, sir; I don't think he is more than a weekly tenant.” “If that's the case, we must see the landlord. Do you know who is the landlord?” “I can't say I do, sir.” “Well, Mrs. Heald, I will let you know in a day or two if I can take your rooms--you can give me a day or two?” “Yes, sir, but I should like to know as soon as possible; several people have been asking after my rooms.” “I'll let you know in a day or two.” “If Town is only a weekly tenant, you'll be able to get his house by paying a little more for it,” said Maggie, as they walked down the green towards the smith's forge. “That would be hardly fair; I should like to act squarely by the smith. What is his name?” “Town.” Town was cutting out the hoof of a shaggy grey cart horse when his visitors entered the cindery blackness. “Town, this gentleman would like to speak to you,” said Maggie, raising her voice above the wheezy bellows. He threw the hoof out of his apron, and, drawing his blackened arm across his forehead, he came forward. “Town, I am anxious to find a place on the green that I could convert into a studio; I think your house would suit my purpose very well. Do you think we could come to some arrangement? Of course I would give you a reasonable compensation.” “Well, I really hardly know, sir; I dunno that I hardly understand. You want my house to turn into a--” “A studio--a place where I can paint pictures.” “I don't see how I can do without my 'ouse.” “But I will compensate you--make it worth your while.”