Prothero. Mamma thaith he ith tho gentlemanlike and that the meanth to
athk him Tuethday.'

'Really!' again said Freda, not daring to look at Miss Hall.

'We are going to Llanfach to-morrow to hear him preach. Hith thermon
wath beautiful in the school-room. Don't you think he ith like the
picture at the beginning of "Evangeline." Dear me, who wath he, Freda?'

'Longfellow, you mean, I suppose.'

'Of courth. And hith language ith tho poetical. Mamma thaith the
thouldn't wonder if he turned out a great author by-and-by. Thould you,
Mith Hall?'

'It takes so much to make a great author, dear; but it is just
possible.'

'But not probable,' whispered Freda.

'Oh, Freda! don't you like him? I am thure you ought; he managed
everything tho nithely for you yethterday. Mamma thaith--Ah! there is
Colonel Vaughan coming up the drive.'

Miss Hall looked across at Freda, and remarked that she began to draw
most industriously, and did not glance out of the window as Miss Nugent
did.

'Mamma thaith,' began that young lady, 'that the colonel ith the motht
accomplithed and agreeable man in Waleth.'

'How can she tell that?' asked Freda, with feigned surprise. 'There are
so many clever men in Wales. I assure you we are a talented race.'

'I am thure of that, Freda; but I think the Englith are more thinthere;
mamma thaith tho.'

'Ah, she must be a good judge,' said Freda, somewhat ironically.

'Yeth; mamma ath theen a great deal of the world,' replied the
unsuspecting Miss Nugent.

Here Colonel Vaughan made his appearance, and that young lady gave him
her mamma's invitation, which he said he should be delighted to accept,
if his friends did; so Freda said her papa was out, but she would send
Lady Mary Nugent an answer when he came in.

'Ah! this _is_ a sketch, Freda,' said Colonel Vaughan, who had somehow
returned to the old familiarity of earlier days. 'How can I thank you
sufficiently? who could think that the child I left twelve years ago
would be such a good artist when I returned? But that was the cleverest
bit of life-like drawing I ever saw, that sketch of your old pony. By
the way, do you know who this is?'

The colonel opened a sketch-book that he had in his hand, and put it
into Freda's.

'Why, this is Gladys, Mrs Prothero's Gladys. How could you prevail on
her to stand for her picture? Look, Serena, how well Colonel Vaughan has
hit off her expression and general effect in those few touches!'

'I went to s