"This is a very honourable and pleasant exchange to me," he said, and raising his hat, he walked away.
Jean looked down at her basket, and then after him.
"I like him!" she mentally exclaimed. "He is a gentleman, and he isn't curious!"
Then she sped away to a stationer's and invested her one coin in a small quantity of paints and paper.
The walk home seemed short, but Jean nodded her head as she entered the house.
"It has been worth it, but I could never do it again."
She stationed herself in the kitchen garden that afternoon, and sketched old Rawlings amongst his cabbages with a true artist's delight. The old brick wall for a background, and the fresh green, with the sun upon it around the old man formed a pretty picture. She was almost disappointed that her grandfather did not appear upon the scene, but she was left in peace. Mr. Desmond seldom visited the kitchen garden, and had little idea how his granddaughter spent her days. A week passed. Jean worked on with a feverish excitement. Her scarcity of materials only made her more determined to persevere with the little she had. More than once her grandfather looked at her flushed cheeks and bright eyes, wondering at her animation.
"Jean," he said to her one evening after dinner, "I shall be absent a few days. I am going with Mr. Railton to town."
Jean looked up at him startled.
"Will you leave me some money?" she asked.