"My dear, I am quite, quite certain. Why, even my father, who only saw him here yesterday, fidgeted all last night about some likeness. I didn't say a word. It wouldn't do with papa." "It will not do with any of us," said Kitty, with spirit. "You won't tell your father?" "I shall tell mother, and she can act as she likes." "Take care," said Bell, more seriously. "You don't want a regular fuss to grow out of a bit of absurdity. What has he done?" "He has come here in a false position and under false pretences. I think it dreadful. What could make him behave so?" "Shall I tell you what I believe? That it was laziness or good-nature. I dare say he forgot all about the model, and then was afraid you would be awfully disappointed. Mrs Marchmont said so much about it. It is all over now, and remember, he did his utmost to get out of coming to-day." "Mother must judge." "Well, I think you are extremely hard on the poor man. You would not have liked it at all if you had waited through yesterday morning and had no model. I am sure he was very uncomfortable himself." "And that was the reason he stood so badly!" cried Kitty. "I hope he _was_ uncomfortable." "Kitty," said Bell earnestly, "if I were you I would say nothing about it. You don't know what mischief you may set going. It is over and done with; he is not coming again, and if you appear to remain in ignorance, you will be in a far more dignified position than if our fathers bring a clatter about his ears. If he really took the character in order to do you a kindly turn, it will be very ungrateful of you to damage his reputation." "Then, you allow," said Kitty, with her head thrown back, "that it is damaging?" "I think he has done a thing which might tell against him immensely; but I don't think a scrap the worse of him myself. There!" said Bell. Kitty was silent, but there was that in her face which did not satisfy the other girl. "I believe you are dreadfully unforgiving," she said. As she spoke, she walked to the window and knelt on the low window-seat. Kitty followed her, looking pale. "Bell, I really am vexed. I think it is particularly unfortunate," she said. "You know that it has cost father a great deal to let me have my way, and make a profession of my painting; there have been a dozen lions in the way at least. But such a lion as this never entered our heads. Don't you see that if he hears of a gentleman dressing up and coming here as a model, there will be an end of everything? Supposing, even, that it is as you say, a mere good-natured freak, do you think that he is likely to understand it in that light?" There was a pause; then Bell said slowly-- "And yet you would tell him?" The girl's colour rose. "Yes," she said very proudly; "whatever comes of it, he shall never say that I have deceived him. I shall tell mother, and she will do what is best."