Phoebe, first her pupil, then her under-mistress, and moulded still by the old habit of subordination to her, both loved and dreaded her.

It was said that she had made the match between her _protegee_ and old Fenwick's rebellious and gifted son.

She had certainly encouraged it, and, whether from conscience or invincible habit, she had meddled a good deal with it ever since.
In reply to Phoebe's question, Miss Anna merely inquired whether Mrs.
Fenwick supposed that George Romney--the Westmoreland artist--would have had much chance with his art if he had stayed on in Westmoreland?
Why, the other day a picture by Romney had been sold for three thousand pounds! And pray, would he ever have become a great painter at all if he had stuck to Kendal or Dalton-in-Furness all his life ?--if he had never been brought in contact with the influences, the money, and the sitters of London?
Those were the questions that Phoebe had to answer.

'Would the beautiful Lady This and Lady That ever have come to Kendal to be painted ?--would he ever have seen Lady Hamilton ?' At this Mrs.Fenwick flushed hotly from brow to chin.
'I rather wonder at you, Miss Anna!' she said, breathing fast; 'you think it was all right he should desert his wife for thirty years--so--so long as he painted pictures of that bad woman, Lady Hamilton, for you to look at!' Miss Anna looked curiously at her companion.

The schoolmistress was puzzled--and provoked.
'Well!--you don't suppose that John's going to desert you for thirty years!' said the other, with an impatient laugh.