, but Pixie's eyes brightened
as at a sudden suggestion, and she cried eagerly--

"Do I? Do I really? Oh, I'm so glad! If you saw me in the street,
would you think I was a Parisian? Oh, thank you so much for saying so!"

"Humph! You're easily pleased. I should not take it as a compliment if
anyone said that to me. I'm an Englishwoman, and a good subject of
Queen Victoria, and I'm thankful to say I look it. No one would mistake
me for a French madam!"

"No, they wouldn't. You are a different shape," said Pixie truthfully,
whereupon Miss Munns sent a sharp inquiry over the edge of her
spectacles, but the glance which met hers was so guileless that no
suspicions could live in its presence. So she said, "Humph!" once more,
and that ended the discussion.

Pixie renewed her study of the newspapers with fresh interest after this
conversation, and made marks against quite a number of advertisements,
which, however, she took no active steps to answer, pending the verdict
from the photographic company. It came at last, and proved to be a
judicious mingling of praise and blame.

The painting of the photograph, said the critic, displayed great taste
and artistic promise, though unfortunately the execution did not quite
come up to the high standard of excellence required by the firm. No
doubt this deficiency was largely caused by a lack of proper materials,
and he would strongly recommend further expenditure of five shillings,
for a complete artist's outfit, given which, and a little more practice,
he had no doubt whatever of being able to send a constant supply of
work, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

Sylvia was shown this missive in due course, and tossed it from her with
impatient hand.

"You must not send it, Pixie! You must not dream of sending it. Don't
you see, dear, they only want to get money from you instead of giving it
themselves? You have already sent three shillings, and now they want
five more, and probably next time there would be another excuse for
getting some more. You can't afford to throw away money like that,
especially without Bridgie's knowledge or consent. Give it up, dear,
and have no more to do with them."

"I will!" said Pixie sadly; "but you mustn't blame them, poor creatures,
for it's my own fault. It's the truth that I was short of paints, for
the ones they sent were so dry I could hardly get them to mark, and the
colours wouldn't seem to come right. It's very kind of them to