e was _no_ picture, and that the mass of pieces
before her were to be sorted with no clue whatever as to their meaning.
"How does one begin?" was the awed question, and at that Bedford's smile
deepened.

"_Cela depend_! I am rather interested to see. There are two ways, and
you shall choose between them. You can look out all the edges,
straight, you see, like this; study the grain of the wood, make up your
frame, and gradually work towards the centre--that's one way, and
perhaps the most common. On the other hand you can abandon method, and
dash for the colours, make up little blocks here and there, half a dozen
at a time perhaps, and look out for a chance of fitting them together,
leaving the frame to look after itself. You take your choice. Which
will you do?"

Katrine bent over the pieces, turning them right side up with rapid
fingers. She saw a mass of dull grey green, a second of baffling white
and grey, a third of a pronounced white, and dotted among them welcome
patches of blue and red.

"Colour, please!" she cried quickly. "Let's dash for the colours, and
trust to luck for the rest."

"Right ho!" he said, sweeping the pieces towards him. Katrine had an
intuition that he approved of her choice, but he made no comment, and
together they bent over the detached fragments of blue and red, which
appeared at this stage so dishearteningly alike. Katrine was utterly at
sea, but Bedford's greater experience soon scented a clew.

"The blue is sky, which goes on top; the light beggars are clouds.
Here's a quaint hunchback little chap. Look out for a scoop for him as
a start."

"Here's a scoop!" cried Katrine, picking out another fragment, and
wonder of wonders! it fitted,--absolutely, unmistakably fitted into
every curve, so that there could be no doubt as to its right to be
there. To fit a piece at the very first effort,--here was success
indeed! Bedford cheered, Katrine hitched her chair nearer the table,
rubbing her hands with an altogether ridiculous sense of elation. "How
fine! _And_ easy! Much easier than I imagined. Where's the next?"

"The next is probably at the bottom of the Indian Ocean, or will pretend
to be, until we've exhausted ourselves looking for it, and have gone on
to something else, when it will jump out and, figuratively speaking, hit
us in the face. It's a way they have. What about this person?"

"Certainly not; you want a jagged edge. Nor that, it's too square. I'm
afra