"Well, no. I don't think I should like to sleep in a garret, unless it were a very pretty one. But I want to rent one, if I can find one with a good skylight. I want it for artistic work."
"Oh, indeed, miss! Are you an artist?"
There was respect, and even awe, in Mrs. Austin's tone. She had not imagined that such a merry-looking lady could be one of the elect.
"Well, yes, in a way I am; and I want to do something--paint some pictures, you know--in a quiet, respectable garret, where I shall not be interrupted. Is it true that you have one to let?"
"Yes, miss. I have one to let. I had an artist son once who used to use it. He's gone"--Mrs. Austin wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron--"and since then," she continued, "I let my young lady lodger have the use of it for her painting. Not that she uses it now,--poor dear!--still, it's supposed to be hers."
"If she does not use it, would she object to my having it?"
"I don't know, miss. I'll just run over to Boothby & Barton's shop, in the next street, and ask her. It is there she works."
"Tell her I shall be immensely obliged if she will give up the garret to me--that is, if it suits me--as I particularly want to have a garret with a good skylight, and I should like you to be my landlady." The young lady smiled again in Mrs. Austin's face.
"Well, miss, you are flattering!" Mrs. Austin caught up an old bonnet and proceeded to put it on. She looked doubtfully at her visitor as she did so. Would it be safe to ask her to sit down in the house until she returned? She thought so, and yet, "One never knows who strangers are," she said to herself. She, therefore, closed the door, locked it, and put the key in her pocket, saying, "Perhaps you'll step along with me, miss, then you'll know sooner if you can have it."
"Very well. And now," the girl continued, as they walked down the street, "I must tell you my name. I am Miss Sinclair."