anner that it will seem as if no particular trouble had been
taken. Do you understand me?"

"Ah, perfectly, mademoiselle," said the polite Frenchman. "You shall be
so fascinating, mademoiselle, that----"

"Yes," said Miss Linderham, "that is what I want."

At three o'clock she had on a dainty gown. The sleeves were turned up,
as if she were ready for the most serious work. The spotless pinafore
which covered this dress had the most fetching little frill around it;
all in all, it was doubtful if any studio in London, even one belonging
to the most celebrated painter, had in it as pretty a picture as Miss
Maggie Linderham was that afternoon. At three o'clock there came a ring
at the telephone, and when Miss Linderham answered the call, the voice
which she had heard before said--

"I am very sorry to disappoint you, madam, but Lord Stansford resigned
this afternoon. We could send you another man if you liked to have him."

"No, no!" cried Miss Linderham; and the man at the other end of the
telephone actually thought she was weeping.

"No, I don't want any one else. It doesn't really matter."

"The other man," replied the voice, "would be only two guineas, and it
was five for Lord Stansford. We could send you a man for a guinea,
although we don't recommend him."

"No," said Miss Linderham, "I don't want anybody. I am glad Lord
Stansford is not coming, as the little party I proposed to give, has
been postponed."

"Ah, then, when it does come off, madam, I hope----"

But Miss Linderham hung up the receiver, and did not listen to the
recommendations the man was sending over the wire about his hired
guests. The chances are that Maggie Linderham would have cried had it
not been that her hair was so nicely, yet carelessly, done; but before
she had time to make up her mind what to do, the trim little maid came
along the gallery and down the steps into the studio, with a silver
salver in her hand, and on it a card, which she handed to Miss
Linderham, who picked up the card and read, "Richard Stansford."

"Oh," she cried joyfully, "ask him to come here."

"Won't you see him in the drawing-room, miss?"

"No, no; tell him I am very busy, and bring him to the studio."

The maid went up the stair again. Miss Linderham, taking one long,
careful glance at herself, looking over her shoulder in the tall
mirror, and not caring to touch her wealth of hair, picked up her
crayon and began making the sketch of the striking man ev