"They are the handle to the saw. Now, shall we come upstairs? I don't think you will find this School of Art at all beyond your means."
Jean followed her hostess up to a cosy-looking room above the drawing-room. A good-sized table and easy chair were drawn up to one of the windows which overlooked the square.
"You will want to get away from me sometimes," said Miss Lorraine with a smile, "so I hope you will have space to read or write. I advise you to keep your painting entirely for your school."
Then resting her hand lightly on the girl's shoulder, she added with much feeling—
"My dear child, I mean to take the best care of you that I can without worrying you. Use me as you like. As a safety valve, if you are in need of one; as an 'Inquire Within' or directory or a modest encyclopedia. I am quite sure that we shall be happy together. Later on, you shall tell me as little or as much as you like about yourself. I am very interested in you."
Jean's eyes filled with sudden tears.
"I have never had any one take an interest in me," she said; "at least not since I left school. And do you know, it is only since I have grown-up, that I have begun to miss my mother."
Miss Lorraine stooped and kissed her and Jean laid her head on her pillow that night without a fear for the future, or a shadow of regret for the step she had taken.
The next few months were rosy ones to her. She plunged into her beloved art with an energy and dogged perseverance that astonished Miss Lorraine. She could talk of, and think of, nothing else. Art and artists were all the world to her. She read and studied when not employed with her brush, any books that she could get hold of, provided they bore the stamp and impress of Art. Other subjects did not interest her.
Miss Lorraine watched her with some amusement and a little concern.