interest you to go with her often;—that I must warn you; but once or twice; for her to show you some of our little-known points de vue;—yes; that will indeed be a treat for the excellent Marthe.—But the mornings?'—again anxiety clouded her face. 'It is in the mornings that she has all her work, here in the house, to do. And she practices her harp for hours. She rarely gets out then;—unless it is into the garden or basse-cour. And I myself am a late riser.—Must the portrait be for the morning?'
'I'd rather come in the afternoon,' Graham assured her. 'And it will only be on rainy days, for I have my landscapes to think of in fine weather.' And Jill, seeing relief dawn again on the strained old face, smiled inwardly, thinking: 'Yes; never fear—you poor old thing; you shall have him all to yourself.'
Joseph, at this point, tidied up, in his felt slippers and white tie, appeared with the tea-tray, and as he set it down on the centre table it revealed the influence of a superior and supervising hand. It was laid with a fine white cloth and besides the biscuits there was a plate of fresh pastries upon which the old lady's eye fastened with a glad avidity. 'Ah! Marthe has been baking! Here is indeed a treat for us!' she exclaimed. And then Joseph, standing at the door with his weary impartiality of demeanour, announced, before leaving: 'Mademoiselle begs to be excused from attendance at tea. She is very much occupied this afternoon.'
'Bien. Bien, Joseph. C'est bien,' the old lady repeated, dismissing the unnecessary information as quickly as
