“I hope you’ll be nice to him, Katharine,” said Mr. Lauderdale. “There are many reasons—”
“Oh, yes! I’ll be nice to him,” answered the young girl, with a short, quick frown that disappeared again instantly.
“I don’t like your expression, my child,” said Alexander Junior, severely, “and I don’t like to be interrupted. Mr. Crowdie is very kind. He wishes to paint your portrait, and he proposes to give us the study he must make first, which will be just as good as the picture itself, I have no doubt. Crowdie is getting a great reputation, and a picture by him is valuable. One can’t afford to be rude to a man who makes such a proposal.”
“No,” observed Mrs. Lauderdale as though speaking to herself. “I should really like to have it. He is a great artist.”
“I haven’t the least intention of being rude to him,” answered Katharine. “What does he mean to do with my portrait—with the picture itself when he has painted it—sell it?”
“He would have a perfect right to sell it, of course—with no name. He means to exhibit it in Paris, I believe, and then I think he intends to give it to his wife. You always say she is a great friend of yours.”
“Oh—that’s all right, if it’s for Hester,” said Katharine. “Of course she’s a friend of mine. Hush! I hear the bell.”
“When did Mr. Crowdie talk to you about this?” asked Mrs. Lauderdale, addressing her husband.
“This morning—hush! Here he is.”
Alexander Junior had an almost abnormal respect for the proprieties, and always preferred to stop talking about a person five minutes before he or she appeared. It was a part of his excessively reticent nature.