love, which I had only to catch and keep. My visitors stood and
looked at it, and I was friendly to them over my shoulder.

They made no response, but I was used to silent company and went on
with my work, only a little disconcerted (even though exhilarated by
the sense that THIS was at least the ideal thing), at not having got
rid of them after all. Presently I heard Mrs. Monarch's sweet voice
beside, or rather above me: "I wish her hair was a little better
done." I looked up and she was staring with a strange fixedness at
Miss Churm, whose back was turned to her. "Do you mind my just
touching it?" she went on--a question which made me spring up for an
instant, as with the instinctive fear that she might do the young
lady a harm. But she quieted me with a glance I shall never forget--
I confess I should like to have been able to paint THAT--and went for
a moment to my model. She spoke to her softly, laying a hand upon
her shoulder and bending over her; and as the girl, understanding,
gratefully assented, she disposed her rough curls, with a few quick
passes, in such a way as to make Miss Churm's head twice as charming.
It was one of the most heroic personal services I have ever seen
rendered. Then Mrs. Monarch turned away with a low sigh and, looking
about her as if for something to do, stooped to the floor with a
noble humility and picked up a dirty rag that had dropped out of my
paint-box.

The Major meanwhile had also been looking for something to do and,
wandering to the other end of the studio, saw before him my breakfast
things, neglected, unremoved. "I say, can't I be useful HERE?" he
called out to me with an irrepressible quaver. I assented with a
laugh that I fear was awkward and for the next ten minutes, while I
worked, I heard the light clatter of china and the tinkle of spoons