’It’s nobody’s fault.  It’s all on such a scale—­unheard of!  Nobody could have guessed before-hand—­unless like Germany, we had been preparing for years to rob and murder our neighbours.  Well, Mrs. Sarratt, I must be going on.  But I wanted to say, that if we could do anything for you—­please command us.  We live about twenty miles from here.  My sister hopes she may come and see you.  And we have a big library at Carton.  If there are any books you want—­’

‘Oh, how very kind of you!’ said Nelly gratefully.  She had risen and was standing beside him, looking at him with her dark, frank eyes.  ’But indeed I shall get on very well.  There’s a war workroom in Manchester, which will send me work.  And I shall try and help with the sphagnum moss.  There’s a notice up near here, asking people to help.  ’And perhaps’—­she laughed and colored—­’I shall try to sketch a little.  I can’t do it a bit—­but it amuses me.’

‘Oh, you draw?’ said Farrell, with a smile.  Then, looking round him, he noticed a portfolio on the table, with a paint box beside it.  ’May I look?’

With rather red cheeks, Nelly showed her performances.  She knew very well, being accustomed to follow such things in the newspapers, that Sir William Farrell had exhibited both in London and Manchester, and was much admired by some of the critics.

Farrell twisted his mouth over them a good deal, considering them carefully.

’Yes, I see—­I see exactly where you are.  Not bad at all, some of them.  I could lend you some things which would help you I think.  Ah, here is your husband.’

George Sarratt entered, looking in some surprise at their very prompt visitor, and a little inclined to stand on his guard against a patronage that might be troublesome.  But Farrell explained himself so apologetically that the young man could only add his very hearty thanks to his wife’s.

‘Well, I really must be off,’ said Farrell again, looking for his hat.  ‘And I see you are going out for the day.’  He glanced at the lunch preparations.  ‘Do you know Loughrigg Tarn?’ He turned to Nelly.

‘Oh, yes!’ Her face glowed.  ’Isn’t it beautiful?  But I don’t think George knows it.’  She looked up at him.  He smiled and shook his head.

‘I have a cottage there,’ said Farrell, addressing Sarratt.  ’Wordsworth said it was like Nemi.  It isn’t:—­but it’s beautiful all the same.  I wish you would bring your wife there to tea with me one day before you go?  There is an old woman who looks after me.  This view is fine’—­he pointed to the window—­’but I think mine is finer.’

‘Thank you,’ said Sarratt, rather formally—­’but I am afraid our days are getting pretty full.’

‘Of course, of course!’ said Sir William, smiling.  ’I only meant, if you happened to be walking in that direction and want a rest.  I have a number of drawings there—­my own and other people’s, which Mrs. Sarratt might care to see—­sometime.  You go on Saturday?’