"It did stop when it couldn't help itself, and then it was too late," said Van Berg, with a frown.
Ida trilled out one of her sudden laughs, as she said, "Don't take the matter so to heart, Mr. Van Berg. When spring came the brook went on as merrily as ever, and was well contented to have other violets look at it."
"Miss Ida, you are a witch," said the artist, and with an odd, involuntary gesture he passed his hand across his brow as if to brush away a mist or film from his mind.
"Oh!" thought Ida, with passionate longing, "may my spells hold, or else I may feel like following the example of the silly little violet." But she pirouetted up to her father, who was just entering, and said: "It's time you came, father. Mr. Van berg has begun calling me names."
"I shall follow his example by calling you my good fairy. Mr. Van
Berg, I have been in paradise all the week."
"I shall not join this mutual admiration society, and I insist that you two gentlemen talk in a sensible way."
But Van Berg seemed to find it difficult to come down to a matter-of-fact conversation with Mr. Mayhew, and soon after took his leave. Before going he tried to induce Ida to come to the studio again, but she declined, saying:
"Mother has entrusted to me several commissions, and I must attend to them to-morrow morning. As it is, my conscience troubles me very much that I have left her alone all the week, and I shall try to make all the amends I can by getting what she wishes."
"Oh! your terrible conscience!" he said.
"Yes, it has been scolding me all day for wasting so much of your time. Now don't burden yours with any denials. Good-night."