"Why, that they want a shop-boy."
Raymond stood up proudly. "I'm a gentleman, father."
"Come, come, never mind that. We know all that; but I don't want heroics. You must either work or starve."
"I'm working."
"Pooh, pooh! A little desultory dabbling in painting; let me tell you, Master Raymond, that is not my idea of work."
"But, father, I must paint; I could not live if I did not."
"Nonsense; that is all the ridiculous ideas that you get up here. When you are shaken out in the world you will lose them."
Raymond's hands were raised to his face, and he was shivering with excitement. Madge came to her father's side, and put one hand on his shoulder.
"Father, Raymond is a painter. If you were to send him to a shop, he would be a painter still. You cannot crush out what is bound up in his heart. Is it not better for him to rise to fame by painting? Some day he will be your glory and mine."
Mr. Leicester shook her hand off.