"Who cares for old Barnett?" said Kat, as Bea flitted out. "My hair suits myself, and if he don't like it, he can look at Kittie's. Hers is as proper as ten commandments, with a killing bow fastened right on an angle with her ear. Now here comes Ralph, and I'm off. Kittie come down to the pond, and let's take a row."
"I will in a little while," said Kittie, putting her sewing aside; "but Ralph is going to help me with that example I couldn't get, and I'll do that first, then I'll be down."
"Well, I'll not look for you," said Kat discontentedly. "After you get your old example, there'll be something else, and then it'll be time to get dinner. I just abominate cousins!" and Kat slammed out of one door, just as Ralph came in at the other.
No one saw Olive again during the day, but just before supper she came down stairs and asked for mother.
"I don't know," said Kittie, flying about the kitchen with her big apron on. "She and Bea went down town this afternoon; I don't know whether they're back or not. If you're going in the sitting-room, tell Ralph to come; he said he'd beat the eggs, if I'd make a puff-cake."
So Olive went into the sitting-room, and sent Ralph out to the feminine employment of egg-beating, then she stood by the window and looked absently out at the shadowy yard. She was going to Virginia; she had decided on that, though the decision had cost some bitter tears and some stern reasoning; for her new plans, long held in check, were doubly precious in the sudden promise of fulfillment, and her whole soul, starved out on book-keeping and dusty offices, begged for a revel in the art she loved so well.
"After all," she mused, deciding grimly to look at the best side of things, "Jean says there is a gallery of grand pictures at Congreve Hall, and I suppose I can study and make copies of the ones that I like; and then"—the thought was a little distasteful to her—"I suppose I was unjust to Mr. Congreve, and ought to make amends if I can. We do owe him more than any amount of gratitude can ever repay, for all he's done for Jean, and I suppose I ought to call him Uncle Ridley, and have the dress made that he sent me; perhaps he'll recognize it;" then she laughed a little, to think what he would say at discovering her just accepting the present made two years ago.
"A laugh sounds encouraging; what brings it Olive?" asked Mrs. Dering, having entered noiselessly.
"Nothing, I was just thinking," answered Olive. "I will go, mama, because I cannot help but think that I ought to, I was just deciding in my mind to call him Uncle Ridley, and have the black dress made. How soon shall I go?"
"I cannot tell yet; there is much that you will need done. I am very glad that you have decided in this way, Olive dear, though I know it was a sacrifice; but your art will become none the less precious through delay, and your decision shows a desire to retract some hasty judgments, and do justice to a peculiar old man, who, with all his faults and vagaries, has a heart as true as gold."