‘I wish I could go and play to you,’ said Alice; ‘but that would disturb the people. It is so strange to see you sad.’ ‘I am not so very sad,’ Laurie said, ‘not to trouble my friends with it, Alice; and I am only waiting now to say good-night. I am going to work so hard I shall have no time to be sad.’ ‘At that pretty window with the flowers in it,’ said Alice, ‘away at Kensington? It must be nice to be so near the Park.’ ‘I don’t care much for the Park now,’ said Laurie. ‘I must go without disturbing the padrona. You will tell her I said good-night.’ ‘Mamma is coming,’ said Alice; ‘she always hears what people say if they were miles off; and I want to ask about dear old Dresden and old Hermann, too.’ Then the padrona came up to him still with her lace in one hand, and sat down by him in the shade. ‘Did you think I had forgotten you were there?’ she said. ‘I know you want to go now, and I have come to tell you what you are to do,--that is, what I think you should do;--you don’t mind my interfering, and giving my advice?’ ‘I want it,’ said Laurie. ‘I have been waiting all this time to see what you would have to say to me before I went away.’ The padrona smiled and nodded her head. ‘You must not stay at Kensington Gore,’ she said. ‘It is too dear and too fine if you are going to work. You must come to this district, and content yourself with two rooms. There are plenty of lodgings to be had with the window made on purpose, and a good light. I will look out for you, if you please; and then you must go in for it,--the life-school, and all that sort of thing. It is odious,’ said the woman-painter, with a little impatient movement of her head, ‘but you men must go through everything. And you can come here, you know, as much as you like; and I am sure Mr. Welby will give you what help he can; and you will do very well,’ said Mrs. Severn, smiling at him. ‘When I can get on with no training at all, what should not you do? And we shall all be proud of you,’ she added, patting his arm softly with her disengaged hand. She was his comrade, and still she was a woman, which made it different; and he went away with a little reflection of the kind glow in the padrona’s eyes warming his heart. No doubt that was the thing to do. He saw her seat herself at the table again where by this time other people had made their appearance, and begin to smile and talk to everybody without a moment’s interval: but she lifted her eyes as he went out at the door with a little sign of amity. How pleasant it is to have friends! Love is sweet, but upon love he had turned his back, poor fellow! giving up all the vague delight of its hopes. Alice, with her curls, had no power to move him. That ground was occupied. But friendship, too, was sweet. And to have a friend who understood him at the first word--who saw what he meant almost before it was spoken; who could give him bright, rapid, decisive advice, the very