“But what would become of me if you deserted me?” asked Ellen dolorously.
“There, Ellen, that’s just it. It’s been a question with me for some time whether or not I was doing right to keep you here. You love that artist life; you have good friends in the city. What do you say to trying it out for a year while I try it out in Seattle? Then, if we make up our minds that we don’t like it, we can come back here and settle down for good and all. We’ll think it over before I say yea or nay to this proposition.”
So the matter was left for the present, and Ellen went about her affairs as usual. The tears would fill her eyes as she thought of putting the continent between herself and her cousin, yet when the picture of city life arose before her it held its charm.
Reed wrote from time to time. Just now he was absorbed in the exhibition which was taking place at one of the galleries. A creditable number of pictures had been sold; others would be auctioned off at the close, and certain ones, if not sold, would be withdrawn, and offered later. Ellen watched eagerly for the reports, valuing the appreciation shown as much as the material returns.
A week passed in which Albert Crump’s proposition was discussed daily from all points of view. Miss Rindy hesitated because she did not want Ellen to go to the city alone. “I don’t see why you couldn’t go with me,” she suggested at one time.
“Oh, but what would I do when I got there?” said Ellen.
“You could be a companion for Teresa.”
Ellen laughed. “She is twelve and I am nearly nineteen; I’m afraid we wouldn’t have much in common, especially if she is spoiled. I don’t believe you have spoiled me, Cousin Rindy.”
“I hope not, and I don’t mean to spoil her.”
“Mabel says that she and I are very unmodern and behind the times, but I don’t think I am of the clinging-vine order, and I believe I could be as independent as the next if I were thrown on my own resources.”