ng her cold
face as of making it colder, less expressive, though visibly prouder.
"Ah dear mother, don't do the British matron!" he replied
good-humouredly.

"British matron's soon said! I don't know what they're coming to."

"How odd that you should have been struck only with the disagreeable
things when, for myself, I've felt it to be most interesting, the most
suggestive morning I've passed for ever so many months!"

"Oh Nick, Nick!" Lady Agnes cried with a strange depth of feeling.

"I like them better in London--they're much less unpleasant," said Grace
Dormer.

"They're things you can look at," her ladyship went on. "We certainly
make the better show."

"The subject doesn't matter, it's the treatment, the treatment!" Biddy
protested in a voice like the tinkle of a silver bell.

"Poor little Bid!"--her brother broke into a laugh.

"How can I learn to model, mamma dear, if I don't look at things and if
I don't study them?" the girl continued.

This question passed unheeded, and Nicholas Dormer said to his mother,
more seriously, but with a certain kind explicitness, as if he could
make a particular allowance: "This place is an immense stimulus to me;
it refreshes me, excites me--it's such an exhibition of artistic life.
It's full of ideas, full of refinements; it gives one such an impression
of artistic experience. They try everything, they feel everything. While
you were looking at the murders, apparently, I observed an immense deal
of curious and interesting work. There are too many of them, poor
devils; so many who must make their way, who must attract attention.
Some of them can only _taper fort_, stand on their heads, turn
somersaults or commit deeds of violence, to make people notice them.
After that, no doubt, a good many will be quieter. But I don't know;
to-day I'm in an appreciative mood--I feel indulgent even to them: they
give me an impression of intelligence, of eager observation. All art is
one--remember that, Biddy dear," the young man continued, smiling down
from his height. "It's the same great many-headed effort, and any ground
that's gained by an individual, any spark that's struck in any province,
is of use and of suggestion to all the others. We're all in the same
boat."

"'We,' do you say, my dear? Are you really setting up for an artist?"
Lady Agnes asked.

Nick just hesitated. "I was speaking for Biddy."

"But you _are_ one, Nick--you are!" the girl cried.

Lady Agnes looked