etty, tempting little meal was spread on the
oval table. There was sponge-cake and shortbread, a dish of fruit, and
delicious bread-and-butter. The beautiful teacups were Malcolm's own
property, and had been picked up by him at a fabulous price in Wardour
Street, and the little melon-shaped teapot had been a present from his
mother. Verity always washed up these teacups herself. She said it was
just for the pleasure of handling such lovely things, but in reality
she knew Hepsy's clumsy fingers were not to be trusted.

Anna had only taken her place at the tea-tray, and was manipulating the
curiously-shaped sugar-tongs rather carefully, when Malcolm looked at
her a little searchingly. "Hurry up," he said severely; "how long do
you suppose I am going to wait for your opinion of the Keston family?"

Then Anna, who had been vaguely alarmed by his judicial tone, filled up
the teacups with a reassured air and in a leisurely manner. "You can
hardly expect me to judge of any human being in five minutes," she
answered with some show of reason.

"That sounds very plausible, my dear, but I can read you like print,"
and here Malcolm looked at her squarely. "You may as well confess,
Anna, you are far more struck with Goliath than with poor little
Verity."

Anna looked rather guilty; as usual, Malcolm's penetration had not
deceived him. She had been most favourably impressed with the
good-humoured giant, with his honest face and kindly blue eyes; but
Verity, a brown slip of a girl with big solemn eyes, how was she to
perjure herself by pretending that she was attracted by such a unique
little piece of eccentricity.

"I wish she did not look so like a boy," she observed in a deprecating
voice. But Malcolm took this remark in good part.

"Oh, you mean her hair," he replied coolly. "Oh, poor girl, that is the
result of brain fever. She had the most wonderful hair you ever saw.
When she let it down it quite swept the floor, and though it was so
dark it had such splendid shades in it. Have you ever seen Keston's
'Leah and Rachel at the Well'?" Then, as Anna shook her head, "Well,
Verity was his model for Leah. Leah is filling her pitcher and looking
down into the well, so the eyes are hidden, but it is Verity's small
brown face to the life. I always say that was his best picture. His
Rachel was marvellous, but I liked Leah best; she was more human
somehow, and those dark plaits of hair escaping from her turban were so
beautiful. Poo