"Coming, mem."
Through the folding doors at the farther end of the room came a pleasant-faced elderly woman in white cap and apron.
"Good-night, Miss Desmond," Sunnie said, in her clear, sweet, little voice. "Nurse and I are going to play a game of draughts, and then I'm going to bed, because I want to-morrow to come quick. You're going to paint my picture, and I'm longing to see how you do it!"
As Jean left the room she turned enthusiastically to the mother.
"I wonder you have not had her painted before. What a lovely study she will make, and what a fascinating child!"
"I am glad you are pleased with her."
Even Jean's warm-hearted praise did not seem to stir Mrs. Gordon from her strange calm. She took her to a very comfortable bedroom with a cheerful fire, and left her there.
"She doesn't deserve to have such a child," Jean said to herself indignantly. "But what a study she will be! I long to be at work. Now for a stiff, dull evening with those two ladies in the drawing-room. Oh dear! I should like to go to bed and have my dinner sent up to me."
But Jean found Meta Worth anything but dull. She talked hard through dinner, not seeming to care whether Mrs. Gordon was responsive or not, and still had plenty to say when they settled down in the drawing-room. Mrs. Gordon took out some knitting, and if she did not make many comments, she listened to her young niece's flow of talk.
"You're one of those people who have a purpose in life," Meta said to Jean. "It must be rather nice. Now I haven't a single hobby; I wish I had. I think I like everything too much. And I do nothing well. I'm a smatterer, am I not, Aunt Helen? I paint a little, and play a little, and work a little, and carve a little. I try my hand at everything, and succeed in nothing. How did you like Leslie's music? I heard the piano. Now, he is a born musician. He amuses Sunnie by the hour. I think he is a good musician spoilt."