en hands in a bewildered manner with Mrs.
Sylvester and Eve, he perceived that his uncle was greeting him with
an almost paternal cordiality.

"Why, Dick, my boy, 'pon my soul I haven't seen you for an age! You
mustn't neglect your gouty old uncle, you know, Dick; when are you
going to paint his portrait, in review order, eh? Not until you've
painted Miss Eve here, I'll be bound."

The prodigal nephew needed all his by no means deficient stock of
nerve to enable him to present an unmoved countenance to this
unexpected attack of geniality. This, he thought, as he returned the
other's greeting with as great a semblance of ease as he could
muster--this was the uncle who had declined to recognise him when
they met a few months ago, in the broadest daylight, in Pall Mall!

Presently, while he was trying to recover his equanimity by devoting
himself to the cult of Eve, he heard the colonel whisper in a
confidential undertone to their hostess:

"Devilish clever fellow, my nephew, y'know, though perhaps I
oughtn't to say so. Those newspaper beggars think very highly of
him--the critics, y'know, and all that; why, 'pon my soul, I was
reading something about him only this morning at the club in the
what's-his-name--the __Outcry__. Said he ought to be in the Academy."

"Yes," said Mrs. Sylvester sympathetically, "you are quite right to
be proud of him, Colonel Lightmark. Charles thinks he is very
clever, and he is _so_ pleased with my portrait. We want him to paint
Eve, you know, only---- Oh, do let me give you another cup of tea,
Mr. Lightmark! Two lumps of sugar, I think?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Sylvester. Do you know, I have discovered that we
have a mutual friend--that is to say, I found out not long ago,
quite by accident, that my very good friend, Philip Rainham, has the
pleasure of your acquaintance."

"Oh, really!" said Eve delightedly; "do you know Philip--Mr.
Rainham? And have you seen him lately? We haven't heard anything of
him for weeks and weeks--not since Christmas, have we, mamma?"

"Ah!" answered Lightmark, smiling, and letting his eyes wander over
the white expanse of the Colonel's waistcoat. "I don't wonder at
that. You see, he has been nursing himself on the Riviera all the
winter, lucky dog! He only came back last night. I saw him at his
dock, you know, down the river--such a jolly old place. I have been
sketching there, on and off, nearly all the spring. He lets me make
myself quite at home."

"Take ca