"Yes," the artist acknowledged, "but I have no doubt now it was for the best, though when I was first taken ill the thought of my unfinished picture was my one great trouble, for I meant it to do so much."
"But you will finish it some day," Gilbert said eagerly. "Is there a lot more to be done to it?"
"No, mostly finishing touches; but those I shall not attempt to put until I am quite well, lest I should spoil the whole."
The afternoon passed very pleasantly and swiftly, so that Gilbert was astonished when Polly, the rosy-cheeked maid who assisted the housekeeper, came knocking at the studio door to inform her master that tea was ready in the dining-room.
"Oh, how long I have stayed!" the boy cried apologetically, as he hastily seized his crutches. "I must have been here hours."
"Only two hours," Mr. Bailey said, with his hearty laugh, adding hospitably, "You must remain one longer and have some tea with us. Oh, you must; we shall not like it, I assure you, if you persist in leaving." And he laid his big, kindly hand persuasively on Gilbert's shoulder.
Gilbert yielded willingly enough, and followed his host into the dining-room, whilst Mr. Willis drew Angel aside, and questioned her about her brother. "I really don't know where he is, father," she said in uneasy tones, "but I fancy he may have gone away this afternoon because he knew Gilbert Mickle was coming, and he doesn't like him."
"If so, it is extremely rude of him," Mr. Willis replied; "he ought to have been at home to help entertain our visitor."
"Yes," Angel acknowledged; "I am so sorry, father."
"Well, my dear, it is not your fault, so you need not look so serious about it."