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