"It was rotten," said Miss Sophia, with some firmness.
"Oh, my dear! Why will you use such dreadful language?" the mother reproved her.
"That's all right, Ma, every one says it now."
Miss Van Rossum, having thus established the status of her vocabulary, at least to her own satisfaction, took a few steps across the big studio and stopped before the picture.
"Oh! I say! Did you do that, Gordon?" she asked. "Isn't she a stunner? Was it her own baby or did she borrow it? Cunning little mite, isn't it?"
"A study from a model," Gordon informed her. "Yes, it is her own baby."
The older lady also came forward and inspected the painting.
"Of course, you must have flattered her a great deal," she opined. "You have such an imagination, my dear Mr. McGrath!"
"It isn't a patch on David's," he replied. "Novelists can beat painters all hollow at that sort of thing."
"I'm awfully hungry," interrupted Miss Van Rossum. "Had to get up at an unearthly hour to come down and meet Dad."