uppose you haven't
looked about at all as yet for the place?"

"I shall not need to, if you won't object to having me close by, even so
near as across the road. As I stood on your doorstep I saw my future
studio spring, full-fledged, into view, with a '_To rent_' notice already
up. Could I have a plainer sign that my good fairy is attending my
footsteps?"

Miss Ruston leaned forward to the window as she spoke, drew aside the
thin curtain which swayed there in the summer breeze, and pointed across
the street. "Isn't there a little old cottage, back in there somewhere,
in a tangle of old-fashioned flowers? It doesn't show from here, I see,
but from below I caught just a glimpse of its unimposing dimensions. The
sign is on the gate, in the hedge. It's simply perfect that the place
should have a hedge!"

"Evidently you didn't inspect it very closely, Charlotte dear. It's a
most forlorn little old place, and much run down. Two old ladies have
lived there all their lives, and have died there within the year. They
would never sell, although, as you see, the neighbourhood all about is
built up with modern houses--all except our own. This house is quite
old, I believe, too."

"Two old ladies lived and died there, did they?" mused Charlotte Ruston.
"Their gentle ghosts won't trouble us, and Granny will delight in that
garden. What a background for an outdoor studio! Do let's go over and
explore the place, will you?"

As they crossed the street the newcomer was using her eyes with eager
observation. "It's a fine old street," she said, "with all these
beautiful trees. What a pity it is mostly so modern in the matter of
architecture! I wonder if the people in those houses will think me
out of my head, to begin with, because I choose this quaint little
dwelling-place. I shall choose it, Len, if I can get it, I warn you."

With some difficulty they opened the gate in the hedge, and proceeded up
the path of moss-grown stones to the house, set so far back from the
street that it was nearly concealed by the growth of untrimmed shrubbery,
old rose-bushes heavy with pink and white roses, lilac trees, and
barberry-bushes.

"Of all the dear, queer, little front porches!" Miss Ruston cried,
setting her exploring foot on a porch floor which promptly sagged beneath
her weight. She threw a quizzical glance at her companion. "Even though
the roof falls in on my head, and the walls sway as I pass by, I must
have this house--if it is dry!