"I've been back a week and am quite settled down again at Porthkeverne, and hope to stay here all the winter. Tell your father I'm coming up to see his pictures one day. I hear he's painting in pastel now. I've been going in for tempera. How are the babies? And Madox? He's a special friend of mine. I've brought them a box of real shortbread from Edinburgh. Yes, I'm making a sketch of this piece of the common. It appeals to me in the sunset."
"What a charming lady! Who is she?" whispered Lorraine as their party passed on.
"She's an artist—Miss Lindsay. We knew her in London, and it was she who advised Father to come and live at Porthkeverne. I'm glad she did, for we all like it just heaps better than Kensington."
"Does she live here?"
"She has rooms in the town and a studio down by the harbour, but she goes about to a great many places sketching. You'd love her pictures."
"I wish I could see them."
"Perhaps she'd let me take you some day to her studio."
"Oh! do you think she really would? Do you know I've never been inside a studio!"
Claudia laughed.
"You wouldn't want to if you'd had to sit as a model as often as I have! Would she, Morland?"