"I wish, my dear," he said, "that I had taken you more seriously in the beginning. But it is not too late to get some advantage by studying in Paris and Rome."
"I don't believe it's ever too late for that," said Barbara, "and of course I've always been crazy for the chance, but knowing how you felt--"
"Say the word," said her father, "and you shall go to-morrow."
Blizzard's face was like stone; he felt that his high hopes were on a more precarious footing than ever. If she had the whim, Barbara would go abroad, far beyond the reach of even his long arms.
"You could finish your bust any time," said Dr. Ferris persuasively.
But Barbara shook her head with complete decision. "A bird in the hand," she said, "is worth two in the bush. And--I hope I'm wrong--but I have the conviction that this head is going to be the best thing I shall ever do. I can look at it quite impersonally, because half the time it seems to model itself. I think it's going to be good. If it is good, it will be one of those lucky series of accidents that sometimes happen to undeserving but lucky people."
Dr. Ferris sighed inwardly, but the expression of his face did not change. "Do you mind if I stay?" he asked. "I think it's time I knew what you look like when you are at work, don't you?"
"High time!" exclaimed Barbara. "I'll just get into my apron." She went into the next room and closed the door.
"Your innocents abroad," said the legless man, "wasn't a success." His face was a jeer.