her direct attack. 'They'll put them in next week.'

'I wish you hadn't, John!' said Phoebe, anxiously. She was sitting
under the lamp with her needlework.

He turned upon her aggressively.

'And why, please?'

'Because the last article you wrote lost you a commission. Don't you
remember--that gentleman at Grasmere--what he said?'

She nodded her fair head gravely. It struck Miss Anna that she was
looking pale and depressed.

'Old fool!' said Fenwick. 'Yes, I remember. He wouldn't ask anybody
to paint his children who'd written such a violent article. As if I
wanted to paint his children! Besides, it was a mere excuse--to save
the money.'

'I don't think so,' murmured Phoebe. 'And oh, I had counted on that
five pounds!'

'What does five pounds matter, compared to speaking to one's mind?'
said Fenwick, roughly.

There was a silence. Fenwick, looking at the two women, felt them
unsympathetic, and abruptly changed the subject.

'I wish you'd give us some music, Phoebe.'

Phoebe rose obediently. He opened the little pianette for her, and lit
the candles.

She played some Irish and Scotch airs, in poor settings, and with
much stumbling. After a little, Fenwick listened restlessly, his brow
frowning, his fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. They were all
glad when it was over.

Phoebe, hearing a whimper from the child, went upstairs. The two
others were soon in hushed but earnest conversation.

Miss Anna had gone to bed. Fenwick was sitting with a book before
him--lost in anxious and exciting calculations--when Phoebe entered
the room.

'Is that you?' he said, jumping up. 'That's all right. I wanted to
talk to you.'

'I thought you did,' she said, with a very quiet, drooping air; then
going to the window, which was open, she leaned out into the May
night. 'Where shall we go? It's warmer.'

'Let's go to the ghyll,' said Fenwick; 'I'll fetch you a shawl.'

For, as both remembered, Miss Anna was upstairs, and in that tiny
cottage all sounds were audible.

Fenwick wrapt a shawl round his companion, and they sallied forth.

The valley lay below them. A young moon was near its setting over the
farthest pike, and the fine lines of the mountain rose dimly clear,
from its base on the valley floor to the dark cliffs of Pavey Ark. Not
a light was visible anywhere. Their little cottage on its shelf, with
the rays of its small lamp shining through the window, seemed to
be the only spectator of the fells;