non was sketching the ruins from the garden. You know he had our permission, at any rate, and he only came there because the view is better on this side—you can see quite a long piece of wall from behind the laurels, but from the field the ivy half hides it. And, then, to call Mr. Vernon aoh, well, something nautical."
"Yes, dear, you know it always irritates William to see anyone earning a living in an easy way. He has had to work hard himself."
"But Mr. Vernon doesn't earn a living, mother. He said that he's never sold a picture yet, although he's always been very successful at getting them in a lot of exhibitions he told me about. And to think that father should say that he'd be doing more good tarring a rope!"
"I don't suppose that William really minded his painting, or being in the garden so much," sighed Mrs. Elgood, "but—well, you know, dear, he has been about here a good deal lately, and your father naturally thought that it was you, and not the ruin, that attracted him."
"Me, mother? Oh, mother, however could you imagine that? Indeed, I'm sure he never thought of me at all. Why should he? You don't really think that, do you?—it's only father. He's so ridiculous. Mr. Vernon cares for nothing but his art, I'm sure. Why, he even offered to teach me to sketch the other day; he thinks of nothing else, I believe."
"It is just as well," said her mother consolingly, "for of course he will not come here again now."
To this Letty made no reply. Perhaps the subject of Mr. Vernon was of less interest to her than the arrival of the postman, whom she ran out to intercept.
In the meanwhile the dissipator of this artistic idyll had reached the water-side, and, after a brief search, apparently found the object of his journey, who rose from the cabin of the Nymph in response to a stentorian
