The young lady took it, and, seating herself at the desk, immediately became interested in the drawings. Just then the door of the work-room opened, and Mr. George Woodfern entered the office. He was a tall, handsome fellow, the image of his father. On his entrance, Miss Alice Parks raised her head quickly.
“Good morning, George,” she said, “come and look at these drawings, and confess I’ve found a rival at last.”
George Woodfern crossed the office, with a quick step and a blushing face, and joined Miss Alice. The two put their heads together over the drawings, with such evident pleasure in each other’s society, that had Alice not been such a dear friend of Harry’s, Becky would have made a match on the spot. Their conference was long and earnest; and from their conversation Becky was convinced that they were pleased with her drawings. In the meantime Mr. Woodfern made himself agreeable to Becky, showed her how drawings were reversed on wood, and gave her many hints regarding “shading,” “filling in,” and the nice points of wood engravings. The young couple at the desk at last finished their examination.
“Well, Miss Alice, what is the verdict?” asked Mr. Woodfern.
“Employ the young lady, by all means; though I fear ‘Othello’s occupation’s gone,’ as far as I am concerned. She can draw ever so much better than poor I.”
Becky blushed with pleasure. So Harry’s friend was her friend too. Mr. Woodfern took from his drawer the manuscript of two short stories and a poem. He then selected three blocks of boxwood from a row on his table, and placed the whole in Becky’s hands.
“Miss Sleeper,” he said, “on the recommendation of this talented young lady, I shall give you a trial. There are two stories for children, and a short ‘baby’ poem. The points to be illustrated are all marked. Take them, consult your friend Harry Thompson, and if you send me three satisfactory drawings within a fortnight, I will send you my check for fifteen dollars. If not satisfactory, I pay nothing.”
Becky’s heart thrilled. How kind, how good of Mr. Woodfern! She thanked him warmly enough, but the words seemed a long way off from the thanksgiving that glowed in her heart. Mr. Woodfern turned away abruptly, and entered the work room.
“Now come over here and let me give you a few hints from an experienced hand. We shan’t want you any more, George.”
George Woodfern laughed, and in turn departed to the privacy of the work-room; and the two young ladies were left to their own deliberations.