when strawberry pottles are common and cheap

ere elms be black or limes be sere,

when midnight dances are murdering sleep,

then comes in the sweet o' the year!

andrew lang.

the second week in june saw frank back in his old quarters above the auctioneer's. he had arrived late in the evening, and put off going to see the lorimers till the first thing the next day. it was some time before business hours when he rang at number 20b, and was ushered by matilda into the studio, where he found phyllis engaged in a rather perfunctory wielding of a feather-duster.

she was looking distractingly pretty, as[pg 182] he perceived when she turned to greet him. her close-fitting black dress, with the spray of tuberose at the throat, and the great holland apron with its braided bib suited her to perfection; the sober tints setting off to advantage the delicate tones of her complexion, which in these days was more wonderfully pink and white than ever.

"and how are your sisters? i needn't ask how you are?" cried frank, who in the earlier stages of their acquaintance had been rather surprised at himself for not falling desperately in love with phyllis lorimer.

"everybody is flourishing," she answered, leaning against the little mantelshelf in the waiting-room, and looking down upon frank's sunburnt, uplifted face.

a look of mischief flashed into her eyes as she added, "there is a great piece of news."

frank grasped the back of the frail red chair on which he sat astride in a manner rather dangerous to its well-being, and said abruptly, "well, what is it?"

"one of us is going to be married."

"oh!" said frank, with a sort of gasp, which was not lost on his interlocutor.

"i am not going to tell you which it is. you must guess," went on phyllis, looking[pg 183] down upon him demurely from under her drooped lids, while a fine smile played about her lips.

"oh, i'll begin at the beginning," said poor frank, with rather strained cheerfulness. "is it miss gertrude?"

phyllis played a moment with the feather-duster, then answered slowly, "you must guess again."

"is it miss lucy?" (with a jerk.)

a pause. "no," said phyllis, at last.

frank sprang to his feet with a beaming countenance and caught both her hands with unfeigned cordiality. "then it is you, miss phyllis, that i have to congratulate."

her eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth as she answered ruefully, "no, indeed, mr. jermyn!"

frank dropped her hands, wrinkling his brows in perplexity, then a light dawned on him suddenly, and was reflected in his expressive countenance.

"it must be fan!" he forgot the prefix in his astonishment.

phyllis nodded. "but you musn't look so surprised," she said, taking a chair beside him. "why shouldn't poor old fan be married as well as other people?"

[pg 184]

"of course; how stupid of me not to think of it before," said frank, vaguely.

"it is quite a romance," went on phyllis; "she and mr. marsh wanted to be married ages and ages ago. but he was too poor, and went to australia. now he is well off, and has come back to marry fan, like a person in a book. a touching tale of young love, is it not?"

"yes; i think it a very touching and pretty story," said frank, severely ignoring the note of irony in her voice.

he had all a man's dislike to hearing a woman talk cynically of sentiment; that should be exclusively a masculine privilege.

"perhaps," said phyllis, "it takes the bloom off it a little, that edward marsh married on the way out. but his wife died last year, so it is all right."

frank burst out laughing, phyllis joining him. a minute later gertrude and lucy came in and confirmed the wonderful news; and the four young people stood gossiping, till the sound of the studio bell reminded them that the day's work had begun.

jermyn came in, by invitation, to supper that night, and was introduced to the new arrival, a big, burly man of middle age,[pg 185] whose forest of black beard afforded only very occasional glimpses of his face.

as for fanny, it was touching to see how this faded flower had revived in the sunshine. the little superannuated airs and graces had come boldly into play; and edward marsh, who was a simple soul, accepted them as the proper expression of feminine sweetness.

so she curled her little finger and put her head on one side with all the vigour that assurance of success will give to any performance; gave vent to her most illogical statements in her most mincing tones, uncontradicted and undisturbed; in short, took advantage to the full of her sojourn (to quote george eliot) in "the woman's paradise where all her nonsense is adorable."

"i don't know what those girls will do without me," fanny said to her lover, who took the remark in such good faith as to make her believe in it herself; "we must see that we do not settle too far away from them."

and she delicately set a stitch in the bead-work slipper which she was engaged in "grounding" for the simple-hearted edward.

[pg 186]

fanny patronised her sisters a good deal in these days; and it must be owned—such is the nature of woman—that her importance had gone up considerably in their estimation.

as for mr. marsh, he regarded his future relatives with a mixture of alarm and perplexity that secretly delighted them. never for a moment did his allegiance to fanny falter before their superior charms; never for a moment did the fear of such a contingency disturb poor fanny's peace of mind.

only the girls themselves, in the depths of their hearts, wondered a little at finding themselves regarded with about the same amount of personal interest as was accorded to matilda, by no means a specimen of the sparkling soubrette.

gertrude, who had rather feared the effect of the contrast of fanny's faded charms with the youthful prettiness of the two younger girls, was relieved, and at the same time a little indignant, to perceive that, as far as edward marsh was concerned, phyllis's hair might be red and lucy's eyes a brilliant green.

for once, indeed, fan's tactlessness had[pg 187] succeeded where the finest tact might have failed. in dropping at once into position as the fanny of ten years ago; as the incarnation of all that is sweetest and most essentially feminine in woman; in making of herself an accepted and indisputable fact, she had unconsciously done the very best to secure her own happiness.

"there really is something about fanny that pleases men. i have always said so," phyllis remarked, as she watched the lovers sailing blissfully down baker street, on one of their many house-hunting expeditions.

"you know," added lucy, "she always dislikes walking about alone, because people speak to her. no one ever speaks to us, do they, gerty?"

"nor to me—at least, not often," said phyllis, ruefully.

"phyllis, will you never learn where to draw the line?" cried gertrude; "but it is quite true about fan. she must be that mysterious creature, a man's woman."

"mr. darrell likes her," broke forth phyllis, after a pause; "he laughs at her in that quiet way of his, but i am quite sure that he likes her. i hope," she added,[pg 188] "that she won't get married before my portrait is finished. but it wouldn't matter, i could go without a chaperon."

"no, you couldn't," said gertrude, shortly.

"why are you seized with such notions of propriety all of a sudden?"

"i have no wish to put us to a disadvantage by ignoring the ordinary practices of life."

"then put up the shutters and get rid of the lease. but, gerty, we needn't discuss this unpleasant matter yet awhile. by the by, mr. darrell is going to ask me to sit for him in a picture, after the portrait. he has made sketches for it already—something out of one of shakespeare's plays."

"oh, i am tired of mr. darrell's name. go and see that your dress is in order for the devonshires' dance to-night."

"apropos," said lucy, as phyllis flitted off on the congenial errand, "why is it that we never see anything of conny in these days?"

"she is going out immensely this season," answered gertrude, dropping her eye-lids; "but, at any rate, we get a double allowance of fred to compensate."

[pg 189]

"silly boy," cried lucy, flushing slightly, "he has actually made me promise to sit out two dances with him. such waste, when one is dying for a waltz."

"oh, there will be plenty of waltzing. i wish you could have my share," sighed gertrude, who had been won over by conny's entreaties to promise attendance at the dance that night.

"it is time you left off these patriarchal airs, gerty. you are as fond of dancing as any of us; and i mean you to spin round all night like a teetotum."

"what a charming picture you conjure up, lucy."

"you people with imaginations are always finding fault. fortunately for me, i have no imagination, and very little humour," said lucy, with an air of genuine thankfulness that delighted her sister.

thus, with work and play, and very much gossip, the summer days went by. the three girls found life full and pleasant, and fanny had her little hour.