"Wouldn't it make a good poster? Doesn't it look exactly like some of the posters you see upon the hoardings?" It was seldom indeed that a speech of Philippa's could wound her faithful friend and admirer, but this time the arrow went home, and Madge's thin cheek flushed with displeasure. She gathered together the scattered sketches in silence, keeping her head rigorously turned aside, while Hope made strenuous efforts to redeem the situation. "Well, really, so it does! They say poster-painting is quite an art nowadays. I hear it pays so well that many artists would be thankful to take it up, if it were not that it requires a special talent. Personally I hope it will be cultivated. It would be so delightful to see the old eyesores replaced by really artistic pictures." In vain! Madge remained silent, red, and angry. Poster-painting may be admirable in its way, but when a student dreams of becoming a female Leighton or Alma Tadema, the alternative is not welcomed with enthusiasm. Philippa reflected sadly that another unfortunate remark was scored against her; but Madge was of too happy a disposition to harbour a grudge, and in half-an-hour's time the grievance was dismissed from her mind, and she was once more her own sunny self. When Barney returned home that evening he joined in the general chorus of lament at Hope's departure, though his sorrow flowed from a somewhat different source from that of his sisters. "What a fag!" he cried. "Now that old Hermit Johnny will think that we are quiet because he complained. I wish to goodness I had taken up the flute; I would tootle all the evening for his amusement." He sat for a while gazing at the ceiling in deep reflection, then slapped his knee ecstatically. "There's a fellow in the office who belongs to the London Scottish and has a bigpipe. I say, wouldn't it make the Hermit sit up if I borrowed it and practised reels! McGregor wouldn't lend it, though. He is a stingy beast who will never do a fellow a good turn. I have a score against him! Well, cheer up, Hope; I'll do my best to fill your place while you're away. I'll find some way of keeping our friend alive, or I'm mistaken." "Barney dear--Barney!" murmured Philippa softly. Barney smiled at her with indulgent tenderness. "Keep your hair on, old lady!" he said encouragingly; and Philippa could only gasp and pant beneath his bear-like hug, and declare that never--no, never--had she met such an unmanageable, disrespectful, vulgar boy! CHAPTER TEN. THE SHANTY.