And she stood contemplating the likeness in an ecstasy of honest reminiscence. ‘My dear, you were never nasty,’ said White, good humouredly. ‘Shock haired, if you like, but charming as you are now.’ ‘Always charming, I’m sure,’ suggested Forster, mildly ‘Do you know, I should like to buy this picture?’ White opened his eyes. ‘Take it, my dear fellow, it’s of no pecuniary value. Stop, though! I can make a composition of it by putting in some flowers and a bit of background, and calling it “Primroses--a Study,” or something of that sort.’ ‘You’ll allow _me_ to fix the price?’ said Forster. But there Madeline interfered. ‘No, Mr. White, you must not sell it; that is, you will sell it to no one but the original. How much must I give you for it? A thousand guineas? Two thousand? Tell me, and I’ll begin to save at once.’ She paused with sparkling eyes, looking into her guardian’s face. ‘Miss Hazelmere is right,’ said Forster; ‘she must keep the sketch as a souvenir of her childhood. No other person in the world has a right to possess it.’ No more was said on the subject, and White soon led the way into the adjoining house, there to dispense the hospitalities to his friend, who, however, soon took his leave, and departed by omnibus towards his home in South Kensington. The night afterwards, however, Madeline saw his hearty face looking from a box in the theatre, and between the acts he came round to speak to her. He said little, but what he did say set her wits working, and the next morning she told White, as they sat at breakfast, that Mr. Forster had witnessed the performance on the previous evening. ‘Oh, indeed,’ said the dramatist with a pleased smile. ‘Did he come round?’ ‘Yes, for a few minutes.’ ‘It’s rather odd, and I think you may take it as a compliment. Forster doesn’t care for the drama as a rule.’ ‘Indeed!’ ‘Fact, my dear. Why, though we’re such capital friends, he has seldom come even to see _my_ plays.’ ‘Do you know his sister?’ ‘Who told you he had a sister?’ asked White, slyly. ‘He did.’ ‘Indeed. Well, the fact is, I don’t know her. She’s a sort of amiable Ogre; pious, you know, and all that sort of thing. Whenever I have dined at the house, she has been invisible; but we’ve generally met at his club.’ ‘And his little boy?’ ‘Eh? Who told you he had a little boy? The same informant. Why, he’s been giving you his autobiography!’ ‘He only told me he was a widower.’ ‘And that’s more than he ever told to me, though of course I was aware of it. You see, our friendship has been a sort of club friendship, and, besides, all the favour has been on his side. A rich man like Forster and a poor devil like myself can’t meet on equal terms.’ ‘He is rich, then?’ ‘Very. One of the oldest firms in the city. His house in Cromwell Road is like a palace, and the pictures in it alone would realise a fortune.’ Madeline looked thoughtful, then she said--‘I’m sorry he’s so rich.’ ‘God bless me! why?’