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“Yes,” said Priscilla, nodding her head gravely. “Miss Potts would. Do you know, father, she had out all hers, and nobody ever gave her anything. Doesn’t it seem unkind? And she hasn’t got any brothers, or sisters either—she has lost them all.”

“Dear, dear, how sad! Have you and Miss Potts been telling your woes to each other, and mingling your tears? ”

“I didn’t cry,” said Priscilla, “but my throat felt funny. It must be dreadful to be an ‘only’!”

“I wish I was,” said a little voice over their shoulders with a deep, deep sigh; “then p’r’aps I should be able to drive sometimes.”

Priscilla turned round, shocked and indignant.

“Well, Loveday, you can’t have everything!” she cried. “You’ve got a paint-box, and I haven’t; and you’ve got a parasol, and I——”

“But I can’t paint here,” protested Loveday. “I want to go home now to see if my paint-box is all safe,” she added suddenly.

Priscilla’s eyes twinkled wickedly.

“I shouldn’t be surprised if Geoffrey is home using all your paints.”

Loveday’s face fell, and her eyes filled with anxiety.