"O, you lucky girl!" exclaims Molly. "How I wish someone would give me five pounds to rig myself out with!"
"You will be earning as many soon, Molly, and that will be better," says Doris with a little flush. "If I were not such a poor useless creature I might be at home doing something too, instead of going away from everybody for ages!" and to everyone's surprise the girl suddenly bursts into tears.
The general consternation caused by this unexpected end to the conversation does not prevent plenty of loving sympathy being shown towards Doris. Poor little light-hearted Doris! who, though overwhelmed with joy at first at the prospect of travelling, now discovers down in the depths of her soft little heart a feeling which amounts to nothing less than dismay, now that she is brought face to face with the fact that before many more days have passed over her head she will have to say good-bye to the mother, sisters, and brothers from whom she has never before been separated beyond a week or two.
Molly comes to the rescue presently with one of her short, practical remarks, having first suppressed Dick, whom she—not Doris fortunately—has heard to mutter something to the effect that his sister "is fretting because she will never see her 'knight' again."
"Well now, cheer up, my girl," she says briskly. "Eighteen months or even a couple of years will slip round and carry you with them before you have time to look about; and just think what an awfully jolly time we shall all have when you come home again! Now," proceeding coolly to tuck up her frock and pin it behind her, "who's coming with me to help Becky clear away the dinner things and prevent her smashing them all? O, dear me, Dick, how you do worry! Do go out; there's a good boy. Now, Honor, if you want to catch that next train you had better be off to dress. We will leave mother and Daisy to rest quietly together, and Doris will come with me, won't you?"
Thus running on she carries her sister off with her, and it is not long before plenty of laughter is heard from the regions of the kitchen, Becky having retired into the depths of the wood-cellar to black Honor's boots.
No. 3 Prospect Road, which is the address given in the advertisement, does not look a very flourishing sort of place in Honor's idea. There are a few little insignificant pictures in the window, chiefly water-colour and crayon drawings, very indifferently executed; a portrait of a severe-looking lady, half of it very dark, half restored presumably to its former state; some frames, looking rather the worse for wear; and a few artists' colours scattered about indiscriminately. Behind these a dirty-red curtain is drawn, giving a sort of private air to the interior of the shop.
Honor had expected to see some imposing studio, where perhaps photography was carried on also, and it is with a feeling of disappointment that she turns the handle of the door, after having looked once more at the advertisement to make sure she has made no mistake.
As the girl enters the shop, a fat little man emerges from behind some lumber which is piled up at the other end, and coming forward and rubbing his hands begins to talk very quickly, with a strong German accent. Gesticulating and chattering the whole time, Mr. Nathan (that being this gentleman's name) proceeds to show Honor some specimens of the painting on tin, which are certainly very pretty. Some, about a foot square, representing charming little winter scenes, consisting merely of a foreground of snow, innumerable firs, a frozen stream with a rustic bridge, a church, through the windows of which a comfortable-looking red light streams, and a background of peaky snow-clad hills. Others represent waterfalls, with the usual surroundings, and others are simple rustic scenes.
Now, Honor is quick enough to see that beyond the knowledge of preparing the tin for the application of the colours, there is no instruction needed at all; at least for herself, and in the course of conversation she is more than once led to suspect that she knows more about painting than Mr. Nathan himself. So she plainly tells the man that the two lessons mentioned in the advertisement will not be required in her case, and that if he will supply her with the tin, and tell her the secret of the preparation, that will be all she needs, finishing up with the inquiry of how many little pictures he expects her to do for the stated pound a week.