Frank Jermyn, whom we have left ringing at the bell, followed Gertrude down the Virginia-cork passage into the waiting-room. The curtains between this apartment and the studio were drawn aside, displaying a charming picture--Lucy, in her black gown and holland pinafore, her fair, smooth head bent over the re-touching frame; Phyllis, at an ornamental table, engaged in trimming prints, with great deftness and grace of manipulation. Neither of the girls looked up from her work, and Frank took possession of one of the red-legged chairs, duly impressed with the business-like nature of the occasion; although, indeed, it must be confessed that his glance strayed furtively now and then in the direction of the studio and its pleasant prospect. Gertrude explained that they were quite prepared to undertake studio work. Frank briefly stated the precise nature of the work he had ready for them, and then ensued a pause. It was humiliating, it was ridiculous, but it was none the less true, that neither of these business-like young people liked first to make a definite suggestion for the inevitable visit to Frank's studio. At last Gertrude said, "You would wish it done to-day?" "Yes, please; if it be possible." She reflected a moment. "It must be this morning. There is no relying on the afternoon light. I cannot arrange to go myself, but my sister can, I think. Lucy!" Lucy came across to them, alert and serene. "Lucy, would you take number three camera to Mr. Jermyn's studio in York Place?" "Yes, certainly." "I have some studies of drapery I should wish to be photographed," added Frank, with his air of steadfast modesty. "I will come at once, if you like," answered Lucy, calmly. "You will, of course, allow me to carry the apparatus, Miss Lorimer." "Thank you," said Lucy, after the least possible hesitation. Every one was immensely serious; and a few minutes afterwards Mrs. Maryon, looking out from the dressmaker's window, saw a solemn young man and a sober young woman emerge together from the house, laden with tripod-stand and camera, and a box of slides, respectively. "I wish I could have gone myself," said Gertrude, in a worried tone; "but I promised Mrs. Staines to be in for her." "Yes, he _is_ a nice young man," answered Phyllis, unblushingly, looking up from her prints. "Oh Phyllis, Phyllis, don't talk like a housemaid." "I say, Gerty, all this is delightfully unchaperoned, isn't it?" "Phyllis, how can you?" cried Gertrude, vexed. The question of propriety was one which she always thought best left to itself, which she hated, above all things, to discuss. Yet even her own unconventional sense of fitness was a little shocked at seeing her sister walk out of the house with an unknown young man, both of them being bound for the studio of the latter. She was quite relieved when, an hour later, Lucy appeared in the waiting-room, fresh and radiant from her little walk.