IV

The Bunnies could hardly believe their eyes when, one day, Mrs. Palmer
Pence came rolling into the Burrow. She was well enough known indeed at
the "rival shop"--by which the Bunnies meant a neighbouring edifice
loftily denominated the Temple of Art, a vast structure full of theatres
and recital-halls and studios and assembly-rooms and dramatic schools;
but this was the first time she had favoured the humbler building, at
least on the formal, official Saturday afternoon. Long had they looked
for her coming, and now at last the most desirable of all the desirable
people was here.

"Ah-h-h!" breathed Little O'Grady, who made reliefs in plastina.

It was for Mrs. Palmer Pence that the samovar steamed to-day in the dimly
lighted studio of Stephen Giles, for her that the candles fluttered
within their pink shades, for her that the white peppermints lay in
orderly little rows upon the silver tray, for her that young Medora
Giles, lately back to her brother from Paris, wore her freshest gown and
drew tea with her prettiest smile. Mrs. Pence was building a new house
and there was more than an even chance that Stephen Giles might decorate
it. He held a middle ground between the "artist-architects" on the one
hand and the painters on the other, and with this advantageous footing he
was gradually drawing a strong cordon round "society" and was looking
forward to a day not very distant when he might leave the Burrow for the
Temple of Art itself.

Mrs. Pence sat liberally cushioned in her old carved pew and amiably
sipped her tea beneath a jewelled censer and admired the dark beauty of
the slender and graceful Medora. Presently she became so taken by the