Ruffie's colour rose. He looked at the lady indignantly.
"You don't know Dad; he loves me, he loves me from the very bottom of his heart, and I love him!"
"I knew your Dad when he was a little boy and he always loved himself first."
"Did you know him as a little boy? Did he know you?"
This was quite an exciting discovery to Ruffie.
"Yes, we knew each other through and through. You are rather like him in face."
"Just the top of my body," said Ruffie with pathetic pride as he placed his small hands across his waist, "is quite all right, isn't it? And with this shawl covering me up, you might think I was all right all through. But Steppie says that I'm like a treasure cupboard, where the best things are on the top shelves. She says some little boys have their legs all right, but their heads are no good to them. And so I'm glad God took extra pains with my head. I'm not very clever really, but I'm going to be a painter when I grow up, and I've got a notebook where I write down the pictures that I shall paint when I'm a man. Steppie is going to find some one to teach me drawing and painting properly. Would you like to hear a few names of my pictures?"
"Very much."
Ruffie produced out of his jacket pocket rather a dirty and well-worn little notebook. Then he began reading:
"The Fells on Fire."
"Dad being carried by Angels to Heaven when he's very old."
"An Arab Steed chasing a Tiger."
"A big War in the Air."
"A Fairies' Wedding on the Lake."
"The Garden of Eden."
"A Puppies' Tea Party."