“Well, draw the Serpent Devil, and God in the garden.” “I’ll draw the serpent.” “What a lovely Snake Devil! Now, if I’d been God, I’d have got a big stick and hit the Snake Devil on the head. Wouldn’t it have saved lots and lots of trouble?” “It would.” “Then why didn’t God do it?” Eve was rescued by Canterton from justifying such theological incongruities. He found them with their heads together, auburn and black bent over Lynette’s drawing-book. He stood for a moment or two watching them, and listening to their intimate prattle. This girl who loved the colour and the mystery of life as he loved them could be as a child with Lynette. “You seem very busy.” Lynette jumped up. “Daddy, come and look! Isn’t Miss Eve clever?” For some reason Eve blushed, and did not turn to look at Canterton. “Here’s Mr. Puck, and old Bruin, and Titania, and Orson, and the Devil Serpent. Miss Eve is just splendid at devils.” “Is she? That’s rather a reflection.” He stood behind Eve and looked down over her shoulder. “You have given the serpent a woman’s head.” She turned her chin but not her eyes. “Yes.” “Symbolism?” “I may have been thinking of something you said the other day.” A full-throated and good-humoured voice was heard calling, “Lynette—Lynette!” “Oh, there’s Miss Vance! It’s the music lesson. I’ll show her the Serpent Devil. I’ll come back, Miss Eve, presently.” “Yes, come back, little Beech Leaf.” They were silent for a few moments after she had gone. “I like that name—‘Little Beech Leaf.’ Just the colour—in autumn, and racing about in the wind.” He came and stood in front of Eve. “You seem to be getting on famously, you two.” Her eyes lifted to his. “She’s delightful! No self-consciousness, no showing off, and such vitality. And that hair and those elf’s eyes of hers thrill one.” “And she likes you too, not a little.” Eve coloured. “Well, if she does, it’s like a bit of real life flying in through the narrow window of little worries, and calling one out to play.” “Little worries?” “I don’t want to talk about them—the importunities of the larder, and the holes in the house-linen, and the weekly bills. I am always trying to teach myself to laugh. And it is very good for one to be among flowers.” He glanced at the easel. “You have covered up the picture. May I see it?” “It is not quite finished. In twenty minutes——” “May I come back in twenty minutes?” “Oh, yes!” “I like my own flowers to be just at their best when friends are to see them.” “Yes, you understand.”