"He would if he got the chance," replied Ingred. "What sort of things do you mean?"
"Oh, a church, or a museum, or an art gallery."
"I know he's done most splendid designs for these, but he's never had the luck to get them accepted. There's generally so much influence needed to get your plans taken for a big public building like that. At least, that's what Dad says. If you have a relation on the City Council, it makes a vast difference to your chances. We've no friends at Court."
"Oh!" said Bess, rather abstractedly, and the subject dropped.
The girls had only time for one game of tennis, when the stable-clock, chiming half-past six, reminded Ingred that if she wished to do her preparation that evening she must rush back to the hotel. She bade Bess a reluctant good-by.
"You'll come and see me again?" asked the latter.
"Rather! And I'll send thought-waves to animate my portrait, and let it talk for me in my absence," laughed Ingred. "Perhaps you'll get more than you bargain for—I'm an awful chatter-box."
"You'll never talk too much for me," said Bess, as she kissed her good-by.