“My artistic work is not necessarily bread and butter to me,” she observed. “But I naturally wish to do as well as possible while I am here, as they may not be willing to spare me from home long.” “I would like to see your sketches, if you don’t mind showing them to us,” said Millie. “And you shall see them,” was the answer. “But not this evening. I suppose my box will be here soon, but by the time I have unpacked what is necessary, I shall be ready to go to bed, for I am very tired with travelling.” And this excuse, although not quite in accordance with Una Stratton’s ultimate intentions, served to secure her the privacy she desired for the rest of the evening. She had casually learned that the other boarders were out, and that they were not likely to put in an appearance until sometime later. “Mr. and Mrs. Everton are spending the day with some friends in Gibraltar. Mr. Grice never comes in until eight o’clock, and Mr. Staines’ movements are so uncertain that we never know whether he will be in to supper or not. We generally have it soon after eight, and spend the rest of the evening at cards or music. We shall be very glad of your company. But are you quite sure that you will like the room you have chosen? As a rule, ladies do not feel so safe in a bedroom on the ground floor, and I have a chamber on the third floor, quite as pretty, if you would prefer it.” But to this suggestion Una, as we will at present call the girl in whom the reader has already recognised Annie Cory, returned a negative answer, saying that she preferred not to take her dog up and down the stairs. “He always sleeps in my room,” she added, “and is such a splendid protector that I could not possibly feel nervous with him near me. I could not answer for his carefulness with the stair carpets, and always prefer to keep him to the ground floor.” This sounded plausible enough, and Millie remarked with a laugh that it would be a bold burglar who would dare to invade a room guarded by so powerful an animal. “I think so too,” said Una. “But he is as gentle as a lamb, unless bidden to be otherwise, and I am sure you will like him. Eh, Briny? You are a dear old thing, aren’t you?” Briny acknowledged the compliment by a stately wave of his tail, and by gently inserting his nose in the hand of his mistress, knowing that she always had a caress to spare for him.