greeted Miss Erskine, and presented his cousin, he suddenly disappeared round the curtain into the art school, leaving the two alone. Miss Bolton was tall, pretty, and well dressed; she was also bent on being polite, and was almost effusive in her manner to Jill, but Miss Erskine was as cold as the North polar region, and equally distant. “I am so glad to see you again?” gushed the heiress; “I have so wanted to apologise to you for my stupidity that morning—” “My stupidity,” corrected Jill. “Oh, no! because there was heaps of room the other side of me, only I didn’t notice that horrid cab. Cabs and busses are a nuisance in London, aren’t they?” “It would be a greater nuisance if London were without them,” Jill answered. “Do you think so? Oh! I don’t—But of course, yes; I was forgetting the working classes.” “Yes,” responded Miss Erskine in her North Pole tone; “because you don’t belong to them, I do.” But Miss Bolton was not in the least disconcerted. “Ah, no, you’re an artist,” she replied, “a genius; that’s heavenly, you know. Don’t you recollect that an Emperor stooped for an artist’s paint brush because ‘Titian was worthy to be served by Caesar?’” Jill’s lip curled. “I am not a Titian,” she answered. “Perhaps not,” continued Miss Bolton in a I-know-better tone of voice. “Anyway Jack says that you are terribly clever. He considers your paintings superior to many of those on the line this year.” “Mr St. John is very kind but I am afraid his criticism wouldn’t avail me much. Will you tell me how far advanced you are. Of course you have studied drawing before?” “Oh, yes! And painting also. My friends considered it a pity for me to drop it altogether with my other studies so I thought that perhaps I would take it up again. Like music it is a very useful accomplishment ‘pour passer le temps,’ you know. I am considered fairly good at it.” “Ah!” responded Jill with uncomplimentary vagueness. “And what do you wish to go in for? Mr St. John is studying the figure—” Miss Bolton interrupted with a
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