"You would never have seen me, if it had not been for a letter your sister wrote to my mother," he said, addressing Barbara. "She mentioned your sudden departure for London and gave your address."
"I moved some time ago," said Jean.
"Yes," he replied, looking at her keenly; "but this isn't the right part of town for you to be living in. It is too far from your art classes. You should economise your strength and time, remember. What have you been painting?"
"A portrait that has been a failure," said Jean a little sadly; "and that picture over there. Would you like to see it? I should be so glad of your criticism. Barbara, will you uncover it?"
The canvas was drawn forward into the light, and Dr. Fergusson looked at it in silence.
The little child's figure was beautiful, and was the centre of the picture. His mother looked life-like in her yearning tenderness over her baby, but her figure as well as that of Eli's was partially unfinished.
"It is good work," pronounced Dr. Fergusson slowly. "I congratulate you on your subject."
"'Lent to the Lord' I think I shall call it," said Jean, looking at it wistfully.
"Happy child!"
Dr. Fergusson murmured the words. Barbara looked at him with interest.