"I wish we were busy," answered Gertrude; "things are a little better, but it is slow work."
"I consider this letter of Darrell's a distinct move forward," cried hopeful Frank; "he will be able to recommend you to artists who are not a lot of out-at-elbow fellows," he added, holding out his hand in farewell, with a bright smile that belied the rueful words. "Now, please don't forget you are all coming to tea with Oakley and me on Sunday afternoon. And Miss Devonshire—you gave her my invitation?"
"Yes," said Lucy, promptly; then added after a pause: "May her brother come too; he says he would like to?"
Frank scanned her quickly with his bright eyes.
"Certainly, if you like; he is not a bad sort of cub."
And then he departed abruptly.
"That was quite rude, for Mr. Jermyn," said Gertrude.
Lucy turned away with a slight flush on her fair face.
"It would be quite rude for anybody," she said, and went over to the studio.
Phyllis was spending the day at the Devonshires, but came back for the evening meal, by which time her sisters' excitement on the subject of Darrell's letter had subsided; and no mention was made of it while they were at table.