creature. Her audience falls in love with her, and that goes a long way.
But I wish she had had a trifle more education and something worth
calling a training. Her manager, Robinson, talks of her attempting all
the great parts; but it's absurd. She talks very naïvely and prettily
about "her art"; but really she knows no more about it than a baby, and
it is perhaps part of her charm that she is so unconscious of her
ignorance.'

'It is strange how little critical English audiences are,' said Kendal.
'I believe we are the simplest people in the world. All that we ask is
that our feelings should be touched a little, but whether by the art or
the artist doesn't matter. She has not been long playing in London, has
she?'

'Only a few weeks. It's only about two months since she landed from
Jamaica. She has a curious history, if you care to hear it; I don't think
I've seen you at all since I made friends with her?'

'No,' said Kendal; 'I was beginning to suspect that something absorbing
had got hold of you. I've looked for you two or three times at the club,
and could not find you.'

'Oh, it's not Miss Bretherton that has taken up my time. She's so busy
that nobody can see much of her. But I have taken her and her people out,
two or three times, sight-seeing, since they came--Westminster Abbey, the
National Gallery, and so forth. She is very keen about everything, and
the Worralls--her uncle and aunt--stick to her pretty closely.'

'Where does she come from?'