very likely. That's their idea of a joke," and by mutual impulse the two young men crossed to the riverside pavement and looked down upon the Thames.
The tide was out, and they saw below them a broad strip of pebbly ground on which a very pretty girl had set her easel and camp-stool close to the wall, apparently so that she might not be observed by the passers-by. On a drawing block had been painted a picture of the river in the foreground, Battersea church and bridge to the rear. If it had been an oil-painting perhaps the handful of mud from the gutter above that had been dropped upon it might have been washed off, but it was a delicate water-colour, and that act of vandalism had ruined it. The mud, too, had splashed the young woman's dress, a white costume suitable for the first of August.
The girl's pretty face was aflame with indignation, and it was evident she had some ado to keep back the tears. She had risen from her camp-stool and was trying to remove the mud from her gown, but the ineffectiveness of her methods seemed to cause great mirth among the hooligans looking over the parapet, one of whom had, doubtless, thrown the mud.
Lord Stranleigh strolled towards the group with his hands in his pockets.
"That was a brave act," he said quietly. "Whoever had the courage to defy that little girl
