"I like it here," Millicent answered, as she walked slowly up the steps; "but if you all want to go, I am willing. Who are the Shallops? Where is San Real?" Graham had torn open his letter, which he quickly perused. Millicent looked inquiringly at him, and he answered her unspoken query: "Yes, Mrs. Shallop asks me to join your party for a week at her pleasant house. Very kind of her, I am sure; but I never do that sort of thing. I--" "Now, Graham," interrupted Mrs. Deering, "say nothing about it till I have talked it over with you. I have a particular reason for advising you to go. We will telegraph the answer in the morning, and can make up our minds in the course of the evening." "I am yours to command in this and all things, Madame," said Graham, offering his arm to his hostess; "and there stands Ah Lam ready to weep because the muffins are growing cold; and I am famously hungry after our ride." Tea being ended, Mrs. Deering and Graham paced the gravel path around the house for half an hour. It was evident to the group on the piazza that a discussion was going on between them. They spoke in low, earnest voices, whose tones did not escape Millicent’s sensitive hearing, though she failed to catch the import of the words. "For my sake," she finally heard Mrs. Deering say in a pleading voice. "Dear my lady, is it just to put it on that ground?" "But if you will hear to it on no other," she argued. "Think what it is you ask of me. To leave my tower and my man Friday for a luxurious household with plethoric master and servants; to stagnate for a week among those ridiculous people who fill San Real in the summer; and all this not because it will do me or any one else any good, but to the end that I may begin the portraits I have already refused to paint. You know that I am not suited to that sort of hack work. How can I make a picture of that over-fed Shallop or his pinched, good little wife?" "But our work cannot all be that which is best suited to us--" "It should be--" "Remember, Graham, that in three weeks the payment for the studio is due--" "Ah, kindest one! you never forget me; bless you for your sweetness and thoughtfulness. Yes, I will go and do my best to make Shallop look like something other than an ex-blacksmith, but it is indeed bitter." "You will find that there will be compensations," said Mrs. Deering, her eyes resting on the pretty group on the piazza: Barbara sitting at Millicent’s feet, and Hal reaching up to pluck a spray of honeysuckles for her hair. CHAPTER V. Where have we lived and loved before this, sweet? My will ere now hath led thy wayward feet; I knew thy beauties--limbs, lips, brows, and hair-- Before these eyes beheld and found thee fair.