He reached home to find Serge entertaining a large party, including all the family, the Clibran-Bell girls, and his cousin, Streeten Folyat, who had suddenly appeared on his way to Westmoreland, where he had bought a sheep-farm. Streeten belonged to a wealthy branch of the family and had already tried nine different professions. He was a man of means, and Mrs. Folyat was making herself very charming to him, and had him sitting between herself and Mary. Serge was at the piano playing and singing absurd little buffoonish songs and teasing Jessie Clibran-Bell, whom for the first time Frederic began to think rather pretty. Minna was reading, and Gertrude was browsing in a corner, nursing the dog.
Minna put down her book as he entered and said:
“Doesn’t Frederic look important to-night? You shall have all the centre of the room to yourself.”
“I got your drawings, Serge,” Frederic spoke in rather a loud voice. He wanted to attract Jessie Clibran-Bell’s attention. “I lent them to old Lawrie, the dramatic critic. He showed them to some friends of his, and they say you must have an exhibition. We’ll make your fortune, yet. They say Africa’s very much in the air just now.”
“Are you a painter, Mr. Folyat?” asked Jessie Clibran-Bell.
“One of Frederic’s friends says I’m a genius,” replied Serge.
“Oh! then you won’t stay here. All the geniuses go to London. We had a cousin who wrote books and she went to America and made a lot of money.”
“I didn’t say I was a genius. I only said one of Frederic’s friends said I was a genius. It does not follow that it is true.”
“You shall judge for yourself, Jessie,” said Frederic.