“Athanasius should take care that his own foot is firm, his position incontrovertible,” said Ermine.
“Well!”
“Then,” said Ermine, “will you allow these little pictures to be examined into?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Look here,” and the Colonel lifted on the table a scrap-book that Rose had been quietly opening on his knee, and which contained an etching of a child playing with a dog, much resembling the style of the drawing.
“Who did that, my dear?” he asked.
“Mamma had it,” was Rose’s reply; “it was always in my old nursery scrap-hook.”
“Every one knows,” said Rachel, “that a woodcut is often like an etching, and an etching like a woodcut. I do not know what you are driving at.”
“The little dogs and all,” muttered Alick, as Rachel glanced rather indignantly at Rose and her book so attentively examined by the Colonel.
“I know,” repeated Rachel, “that there is a strong prejudice against Mr. Mauleverer, and that it is entertained by many whom I should have hoped to see above such weakness but when I brought these tangible productions of his system, as evidence of his success, I did not expect to see them received with a covert distrust, which I own I do not understand. I perceive now why good works find so much difficulty in prospering.”