e guessed before-hand--unless like Germany, we had been preparing for
years to rob and murder our neighbours. Well, Mrs. Sarratt, I must be
going on. But I wanted to say, that if we could do anything for
you--please command us. We live about twenty miles from here. My sister
hopes she may come and see you. And we have a big library at Carton. If
there are any books you want--'

'Oh, how _very_ kind of you!' said Nelly gratefully. She had risen and
was standing beside him, looking at him with her dark, frank eyes. 'But
indeed I shall get on very well. There's a war workroom in Manchester,
which will send me work. And I shall try and help with the sphagnum
moss. There's a notice up near here, asking people to help. 'And
perhaps'--she laughed and colored--'I shall try to sketch a little. I
can't do it a bit--but it amuses me.'

'Oh, you _draw_?' said Farrell, with a smile. Then, looking round him,
he noticed a portfolio on the table, with a paint box beside it. 'May I
look?'

With rather red cheeks, Nelly showed her performances. She knew very
well, being accustomed to follow such things in the newspapers, that Sir
William Farrell had exhibited both in London and Manchester, and was
much admired by some of the critics.

Farrell twisted his mouth over them a good deal, considering them
carefully.

'Yes, I see--I see exactly where you are. Not bad at all, some of them.
I could lend you some things which would help you I think. Ah, here is
your husband.'

George Sarratt entered, looking in some surprise at their very prompt
visitor, and a little inclined to stand on his guard against a patronage
that might be troublesome. But Farrell explained himself so
apologetically that the young man could only add his very hearty thanks
to his wife's.

'Well, I really _must_ be off,' said Farrell again, looking for his hat.
'And I see you are going out for the day.' He glanced at the lunch
preparations. 'Do you know Loughrigg Tarn?' He turned to Nelly.

'Oh, yes!' Her face glowed. 'Isn't it beautiful? But I don't think
George knows it.' She looked up at him. He smiled and shook his head.

'I have a cottage there,' said Farrell, addressing Sarratt. 'Wordsworth
said it was like Nemi. It isn't:--but it's beautiful all the same. I
wish you would bring your wife there to tea with me one day before you
go? There is an old woman who looks after me. This view is fine'--he
pointed to the window--'but I think mine is finer.'

'Thank y