"Had you there, Bill," cried Mr. Storey, with an agreeable wink; "the ladies are never merciful when they catch us tripping." But Langley deigned no reply.
"I do not think Winter is inclined to come back," said he to Kate; "he wrote me a few lines enclosing his last letter to you, in which he says he should like to remain where he is until he had drawn the whole country, natural and architectural, but that Mrs. Winter's absurd prejudices against grease and fleas would, he feared, cut short his enjoyment."
"My dear William," cried his sister, raising her hands and eyes to heaven, "what will Miss Vernon think of you mentioning such dreadful low vulgar words. I am sure I am thankful Lady Desmond's not here—what would she say?"
"I dare say her ladyship is aware that such an entomological variety exists," returned Langley, drily.
"Have you been very busy this summer," asked Kate, changing the subject in compassion to her hostess.
"Yes, no—that is, I have been busily idle."
"Sketching, and not finishing," suggested Miss Vernon. "That was what Mr. Winter used to call busy idleness."
"You and Miss Vernon must look at my studio some day," said Langley to his sister; "I have one or two pretty subjects in progress."
"I shall be delighted," cried Kate. "I am always happy in a studio, more so than even in a perfect gallery; besides, a studio always reminds me of Mr. Winter," she added with such enthusiasm that her listeners smiled.
"I suppose you used to visit the pictures at Hampton Court frequently?"