Almost on the stroke of the appointed hour, the bell rang. "Come," thought Miss Norreys, as she heard Winifred's clear, decided tones, inquiring for herself, "she is punctual, and so much the better. So many of these would-be independent and self-reliant young women prejudice others almost from the first by their airy disregard of every one else's convenience." No--to a certain extent Winifred was really practical and reliable. She was grateful, too, to Hertha, and so anxious to stand well with her that the last twenty minutes had been spent in walking up and down the street till within a minute or so of the appointed hour. She came in, looking eager and yet a little shy. Her bright, short-sighted eyes glanced with evident interest round the pretty little room, opening at one end, "a deux battants," into the large studio, which was but dimly lighted, then returned to rest with unmistakable admiration upon her young hostess. "Oh, how delightful, how charming it all is!" she exclaimed, impulsively. "Oh, Miss Norreys, thank you so much, so very much, for letting me come to see you." "I am pleased to see you. I shall be very glad if I can be of any use to you," Hertha replied. It was not in her essentially generous nature to repress the girl, whose enthusiasm was plainly sincere. "Will you take your cloak off? My rooms are not cold. We shall have tea directly. In the meantime, before we begin to talk, would you like to see my little domain? I am very proud of my music-room." She led the way into the larger room, turning up the light as she entered it. It was very tastefully arranged--some few good pictures, one or two pretty cabinets, and a respectable number of well-bound books filling glass-doored cases at one end, all relics of more prosperous times, giving a certain dignity to the whole. There were two pianos, and a harp stood in one corner. Winifred stood entranced. "It is quite charming," she said; "just the sort of nest one would long to have." Hertha was amused at the expression. She considered her big room much more than a "nest." "My young friend does not seem to realise how rare such quarters are in London," she thought. "I suppose she is used to a bare, but perhaps not very small, country vicarage." "Yes, I am very lucky indeed," she replied. "A room like this is a great `find' in London." "Is it really?" said Winifred, peering up at the ceiling. "Oh dear, it is _just_ what I should like." Miss Norreys repressed the desire to tell her that, as things were with her, she might as well wish for Aladdin's palace at once. "She will learn by experience," she said to herself.