"There is the famous barn where Charles the First hid himself, I don't suppose the authorities would allow me to turn that into a studio."

"No, probably not; but I think you might find a house that would do."

"What nonsense, Maggie," said Sally, who began to grow jealous of her sister.

"Why is it nonsense? I see no reason why Frank shouldn't come to some arrangement with the smith, and turn his house into a studio."

"Which is the smith's house? I'll tell you in a moment if it could be turned into a studio."

"That house standing quite by itself in the corner of the green."

"That tall narrow house with the bit of broken wall and the elder bushes?"

"Yes."

"I daresay I could rig up a very nice studio out of that place, indeed it looks quite picturesque amid its elder bushes. There is the stile, and there is the cornfield. But I couldn't live there."

"No, you would live at Mrs. Heald's, and you could walk over every morning to the studio."

"Yes, I could do that. I prefer to live with my work. There is nothing like walking from the breakfast table across the room to the easel."

"Of course you can find fault with everything; nothing is perfect."

"There goes the train!" cried Sally. "No use in running now, you've missed it."

"How very provoking; the next isn't till half-past seven--just an hour to wait."

"Well," said Maggie, "if you have missed the train we may as well go at once and ask Mrs. Heald if she has let her rooms."

They walked towards a block of cottages--at one end the "Cricketer's Arms," at the other the grocery business; and the cottage that joined the grocery business was remarkable for a bit of green paling and wooden balcony, now covered with Virginia creeper. Frank thought at once of new-laid eggs, and the sunlight glancing through a great ma.s.s of greenery, and he resolved if a sacrifice were necessary to live at Southwick, he would put his picture aside and begin his novel. The people in the house pleased him, and he ran on in his way thinking how English and trustworthy they seemed, liking the green parrot that rubbed its head affectionately against the grey ringlets of a very ladylike old person; and Mrs. Heald, brisk as a bee, notwithstanding her lame leg, who led the way up the ladder-like cottage staircase.

"How nice and clean everything is; books and engravings along the pa.s.sages. How unlike Ireland!"

But the sitting-room was full of horsehair sofas and chairs. These displeased Frank, but some handsome china--an entire tea service in Crown Derby--reconciled him to the room. In the bedroom they found a huge four-poster of old time, with a lengthy bolster and imposing pillows, and they were shown into another and a similar room. One looked out on the green, the other on the fields that lay between the green and the Manor House.

"If that elm were cut down you could see my window," said Sally.

"Which room do you like the best?" said Maggie.

"It is hard to say. The other room looks on the green, but here there is a nice large wardrobe, and I don't see how I can get on without a wardrobe."

"If you like the other room best, sir, I can turn out the chest of drawers."

"Oh, that would be very nice if you can manage it, the room will do very well. I can have a bath every morning?"

"Yes, sir; there will be no difficulty about that."

Maggie had taken off her hat and was settling her hair before the gla.s.s. Sally opened the wardrobe, revealing various petticoats and skirts, but she thought of it as full of Frank's light overcoats, the scarves he wore round his throat when he went out in evening clothes, the patent leather shoes in the corner. Suddenly the conversation dropped, and after a pause Frank said: "I think these rooms suit me very well, but I can do nothing; it is impossible for me to say if I can take them until I find out if there is any place in the immediate neighbourhood that I could convert into a studio. Do you know of any such place?"

"No, I do not, sir."

"Mr. Escott was thinking of seeing the smith about his house. I wonder if Town would let it to Mr. Escott for a consideration," said Maggie.

"Of course, I should have to get leave to make what alterations I pleased."

"I don't suppose the house belongs to Town, sir; I don't think he is more than a weekly tenant."

"If that's the case, we must see the landlord. Do you know who is the landlord?"

"I can't say I do, sir."

"Well, Mrs. Heald, I will let you know in a day or two if I can take your rooms--you can give me a day or two?"

"Yes, sir, but I should like to know as soon as possible; several people have been asking after my rooms."

"I'll let you know in a day or two."

"If Town is only a weekly tenant, you'll be able to get his house by paying a little more for it," said Maggie, as they walked down the green towards the smith's forge.

"That would be hardly fair; I should like to act squarely by the smith. What is his name?"

"Town."

Town was cutting out the hoof of a s.h.a.ggy grey cart horse when his visitors entered the cindery blackness.

"Town, this gentleman would like to speak to you," said Maggie, raising her voice above the wheezy bellows. He threw the hoof out of his ap.r.o.n, and, drawing his blackened arm across his forehead, he came forward.

"Town, I am anxious to find a place on the green that I could convert into a studio; I think your house would suit my purpose very well. Do you think we could come to some arrangement? Of course I would give you a reasonable compensation."

"Well, I really hardly know, sir; I dunno that I hardly understand.

You want my house to turn into a--"

"A studio--a place where I can paint pictures."

"I don't see how I can do without my 'ouse."

"But I will compensate you--make it worth your while."

"You see it is so near my work. Was I to go and live at Ada Terrace, I should, you see, be out of the way. If people want a job done they always knows where to find me."

"Yes, but if I compensate you?"

Seeing that Frank was exciting the smith with too wild hopes of wealth, Sally thought fit to interpose. "Mr. Escott would require permission to make any alterations in the building he thought proper-- you couldn't give him permission; he would in any case have to see your landlord. Who is your landlord?"

"I don't see how I can give up my 'ouse to be turned into a painting place; it wouldn't suit me at all."

"If I make you sufficient compensation--"

Again the smith was reduced to silence. He scratched his head, and Frank watched the sparks fly, and heard the rhythmical sledge. "I wish he wouldn't talk so much about compensation," thought Sally. "I don't know what the man won't be asking if Frank doesn't shut up."