"Here you are, here you are, eh?" he began. "Well, Kitty, how are you getting on with this fad of yours? I've just been telling your father I don't thank him--I don't indeed. If it weren't for you, Bell would be at home, working at her needle, or doing something with a little sense in it. Painting! What's the good of it when you've done it, eh? that's what I want to know. Who have you got here? Italian? No more Italian than I am, I'll be bound. Here, you Smith, Jones, whatever you're called, I should very much like to know whether you've ever seen any country but England, eh?" Bell interposed. "Father, you mustn't interfere with Kitty's models." "Models, nonsense! If you want models, why don't you draw one another, eh? Save your money, and not have these fellows hanging about. I wouldn't allow it if I were Lascelles, not I! Well, I'll take myself off, Kitty; I don't want to disturb you, but take my advice, don't you believe he's an Italian, and don't let yourself be taken in. If you're ready in half an hour, Bell, I'll take you home.--Hallo! what have I knocked over now? If you will have these bothering things on three legs standing about--Never mind? But I do mind; I mind uncommonly. Don't talk to me, Bell; if you had decent furniture, a man needn't knock his shins against it." He went away grumbling. The girls looked at each other and laughed. "It _is_ a little like an earthquake," remarked Bell, calmly. "He is delightful everywhere but in a studio," said Kitty. "He knows nothing about pictures, but he makes me feel I know less. Bell, _is_ it all a waste of time?" "I don't know," said Bell. "Make as good a waste of it as you can, at all events, and go on with your picture." To Everitt--"Keep up your hand, please; it drops more and more. _Are_ you used to standing for artists?" Everitt felt that he reddened. "I have not been standing lately, signorina," he stammered. "So I thought," returned Bell, inexorably. Silence followed for a time; then Kitty put her easel on one side. "That will do for to-day," she said. "I don't think you can go on longer. Perhaps to-morrow you will be better able to stand, and pray be more punctual." "To-morrow, signorina?" faltered Everitt. This was too much. "Yes, to-morrow. Are you engaged?" "I am engaged every day this week." "Every day? Oh, how tiresome! how very tiresome! What can we do?" "Is it to Mr Everitt?" inquired Bell, applying a little turpentine to a spot of paint on her dress. "Signorina, yes." "Do you know, I think he will let you off?" she said, raising her head and regarding him calmly. "I am almost sure of it." "Do you think so?" cried Kitty, joyfully. "Then,"--to Everitt--"will you ask him? Ask him to let you come, at any rate, to-morrow; and we will leave it in this way, that if he cannot spare you he will let us know." "But I think you will be here," repeated Bell, in the same assured tone. CHAPTER THREE. A SECOND VENTURE.