"Yet the country is often charming in November: there are days when one longs to sit out sketching," said Lady Campion, who tried her hand at painting as well as at several other accomplishments. "The hazy colouring is so wonderful sometimes." "If I were an artist," said Celia, who had not yet spoken, "I should like nothing better than to try _London_ effects on a day like this. I never saw anything more curious than the lights just now." Lady Campion glanced at her in some surprise. There was a touch of originality in the remark which she had not expected, for she had already in her own mind put down Celia as "the pretty sister," and Winifred as "the clever one." Just then Mrs Balderson's footman hurried up to announce the carriage. "Good-bye, so glad to have met you," said his mistress, as she began to shake hands with her friend. "But--how are you going home?" she added suddenly. "You are driving, of course?" "No, that is to say I have no carriage here. I am going to get a hansom," replied the younger woman. "Then do come with us, and let us drop you. It will not be out of our way at all," said Mrs Balderson, cordially. "There is plenty of room for us all." "Thank you very much. Well, yes, it would be very nice," replied Lady Campion, who felt rather pleased to see a little more of the two girls. They interested her, and she liked to be interested. So in another moment or two the four found themselves comfortably ensconced in the landau, which, like everything belonging to Mrs Balderson, gave one a not unpleasing impression of space and plenty--of a rather old-fashioned kind. "You are not tired, my dear Winifred? You have not got a headache, I hope?" said her hostess. For Miss Maryon was sitting silent with an absent look. The girl started, then she smiled brightly. Her smile was very pleasant, relieving her face from the heaviness which in repose was its possible defect. And she had beautiful teeth! "Oh dear, no," she replied. "I never have headaches. None of us do, except Louise, and that very, very seldom. I was--only thinking." "I know," said Celia. "Mrs Balderson, shall I tell you what it is? Winifred has fallen in love, and at first sight." "My dear!" exclaimed Mrs Balderson, rather taken aback, while Lady Campion listened with a quiet smile, her interest and amusement increasing. "Yes," Celia went on, unabashed, "and so have I, though not quite so badly, perhaps. It is Miss Norreys--Miss Hertha Norreys, the singer." Mrs Balderson's face cleared. "She is so--I can't find a word for her," said Winifred, half apologetically, but tacitly pleading guilty to her sister's impeachment. "Isn't she wonderful, Mrs Balderson?--_you_ think her so, I am sure; don't you?" she went on, turning to Lady Campion, in whose face she fancied she read quicker sympathy. "I think she sings charmingly, in her own way," began the elder woman, who was by no means ignorant of music; "and in herself she is, of course, most--"