The old man laughed disagreeably.
"I never heard of a rich artist yet!" he declared.
"Oh, but, Granfer, sometimes artists make a lot of money; they do really!" Nellie cried eagerly. "They are not all poor, you know. The girls at school the other day were speaking of a great artist who was introduced to Queen Victoria!"
"It has sometimes crossed my mind that David may have been successful," Mrs. Maple said thoughtfully. "I'm sure I hope he has! I wish we knew something about him—poor David!" and she sighed regretfully. There were tears in her kind blue eyes as she spoke of her brother, for she had treasured the memory of his handsome boyish face and winning ways in her heart for many a long year; and, rich or poor, if he had returned at any time he would have found his sister's love the same.
"Don't you wish Uncle David would come home, Granfer?" Bessie asked softly. "I do!"
"Yes, I should like to see him once more," the old man acknowledged, "for though he defied me, he is my only son."
His eyes rested thoughtfully and wistfully upon Bessie's face; and as he saw the likeness to that other countenance that had passed out of his sight in anger, more than fifteen years before, he sighed regretfully too, and his daughter caught the murmured words:
"Perhaps I was to blame as well as the boy. As the child says, it was his one talent! I wish David would come home!"