"Oh, Nelly! How can you say such things of yourself?" exclaimed Aldyth.
"It is true," said Nelly. "Mamma feels that I am no credit to her, and she is ashamed for me to be seen. Oh, you need not look shocked, Aldyth. You do not know mamma yet."
"I hope you are mistaken in so judging her," said Aldyth, gently. "But now, Nelly, what shall we do, since we are left to ourselves?"
"I don't care," said Nelly, indifferently.
"Would you like to go across to the National Gallery? We seem to have neglected that just because it is so near. There are some of the finest pictures in the world to be seen there. But perhaps you do not care for looking at pictures."
"I care very much," said Nelly, brightening. "I really like pictures more than Gladys, only I do not make such a fuss about them as she does."
So they went to the Gallery, and spent a couple of hours there very pleasantly. Aldyth found that Nelly took a real and intelligent interest in the pictures. Aldyth, who was a devout disciple of Ruskin, had a profound admiration of Turner, and she soon kindled in Nelly a like enthusiasm for his paintings. Together they studied the slight sketches, which give such interesting indications of the gradual development of his genius.
As they talked them over, Nelly grew confidential, and told her sister of her great desire to study art—a desire which would not be quenched by the efforts of all her family to throw cold water upon it.
"I want mamma to let me study at South Kensington," she said; "but she says it is of no use, for I should never do anything worth doing. She is going to look for a school for me as soon as she can find time. I am to go as a weekly boarder. Is not that horrid?"
"Perhaps you will like it better than you expect," said Aldyth. "No doubt there will be a good drawing master."