In the vestibule, on her way upstairs to bed, Mrs. Lawrence passed little Mrs. Villiers and the boy. The vestibule, comfortably furnished and heated, was used as a second drawing-room by the visitors, and this evening it was fairly full.
Mrs. Villiers and her companion were seated near the door, and were evidently discussing art.
"Yes, I love pictures too," the little lady was saying as Mrs. Lawrence approached. "But I'm so ignorant about them. If only I could do the galleries with someone who—"
"If you———I mean, might I? could we sometimes," stammered the boy.
"Oh, would you? That would be splendid!" returned his companion in the natural delighted voice of a child. "I've been longing—"
By this time the deaf old lady stationed immediately in front of the door, had become aware that she was being requested to move, and Mrs. Lawrence was able to make her escape.
"I believe she's quite a nice little thing," she reflected on her way up to bed, carrying with her the memory of a girlish unaffected voice. "What a set these boarding house women are, to be sure."
In the course of the next few weeks Mrs. Lawrence learnt that "the boy" bore the not uncommon name of Brown, that this drawback notwithstanding, he was as she described him, "a delightful young fellow"—fresh, unaffected
