“I have not had such a treat since I went to India,” said her brother. “Pray do not stop. You don’t know how much I enjoy it,” and he sat down prepared to listen to more. So Marion played on. This time it was the “Spinn lied” from the “Lieder ohne Worte.” “Tom, you are positively improving,” said his sister critically, as she finished and Abigail came in with the tea-things. “Just before you went away, I remember taking you to a Saturday concert at St. James’s Hall, and you annoyed me by coming out in the middle. Marion’s playing seems to have worked a sort of charm.” “Oh, nonsense, Madge, you must not give me such a bad character! I am very fond of music really, Miss Thomas,” he said, turning to Marion; “but I always prefer it at home. Somehow, a concert always makes me feel very sleepy towards the end. I don’t know if it is the heat, or what.” “You ought not to mind the heat, surely,” she suggested, smiling. He laughed. “Well, at all events, it is not nearly so enjoyable.” “Well, what about the house, Tom?” asked his sister, as she drank her tea and ate Marion’s crisp little home-made cakes appreciatively. “Green Lawn, in the next street but one, has just the number of rooms you want. Everything about it seems all right, and there is an excellent tennis lawn. Could you move by Lady Day?” “Yes, I must. Did you see no others?” “What was the good of looking at others until you had signified that this would not do,” he remarked sagely. “Marion, can you come and look at it with us?” “Yes, certainly,” and she went to put on her hat. “You need not stay longer if you want to be off,” said Mrs. Holden to her brother when Marion had left the room. “We shall manage quite well by ourselves. I know men don’t care for fussing about over houses, and you said you wanted to go down to the club.” He seemed to think the club could wait, for he made no haste to be off; and soon Marion came in again, looking very charming in her pretty hat with pink primulas. So the three walked through the sunny streets to Green Lawn. It did not take very long to look over the house, and Mrs. Holden was delighted with it, and quite decided to take it if her husband liked it as well as she did. “So we shall soon be having you for neighbours, and how delightful that will be, my dear! I only hope I shall not worry you by incessantly running in to ask advice. I really must be self-denying, and not run into the Rowans too often. Come and have dinner with me next week and talk it all over. Which day can you come? Come next Thursday if you can. You don’t mind coming so far now the evenings are so light, do you? Tom can see you home.” Marion protested that she was quite equal to seeing herself home; but Mrs. Holden insisted, and so it was arranged. By this time they had arrived at the station from which Marion’s friends were going back to Camberwell, so they said good-bye.