CHAPTER VI.
'And you may lead a thousand men, Nor ever draw the rein, But ere ye lead the Faery Queen 'Twill burst your heart in twain.' He has slipped his foot from the stirrup-bar, The bridle from his hand, And he is bound by hand and foot To the Queen o' Faery-land.
Sir Hoggie and the Fairies.
SOME weeks later, on a very foggy Sunday, Dick was returning across the Park to his studio.

'This,' he said, 'is evidently the thrashing that Torp meant.

It hurts more than I expected; but the Queen can do no wrong; and she certainly has some notion of drawing.' He had just finished a Sunday visit to Maisie,--always under the green eyes of the red-haired impressionist girl, whom he learned to hate at sight,--and was tingling with a keen sense of shame.

Sunday after Sunday, putting on his best clothes, he had walked over to the untidy house north of the Park, first to see Maisie's pictures, and then to criticise and advise upon them as he realised that they were productions on which advice would not be wasted.

Sunday after Sunday, and his love grew with each visit, he had been compelled to cram his heart back from between his lips when it prompted him to kiss Maisie several times and very much indeed.