Thus, after duly listening to her complaints at being still in sultry London when August was practically at hand, from the necessity of Mr. Meridith's remaining in town until Parliament rose, Maudie and Frank found opportunity to exchange secret groans over the unendingness of three years.
"I wish to goodness I could shorten it!" sighed the youth.
"Then why don't you?" demanded the girl. "You know what dad says about it. Now, Frankie, why don't you do something grand, superb, incomparable—something that would cause the whole world to admire and wonder, and make your name famous for ever and ever? I would, if I were you, but you're a lazy boy, I know you are."
"It's easy to talk," was the rueful response. "But you just listen to what I've got on hand. Some day soon, Jack Hardy is to be allowed to do a marble bust of Lord Winborough. I told you, didn't I? If the great man will consent to be so far victimised, Jack is going to start proceedings by taking a life-mask of him. Very well, then, I'm going to watch, and perhaps assist, and when I've learnt how to do it, I shall start and do a bust of somebody or other who is well known. Then I have already got three new pictures and two statuettes on hand. Some of the galleries are bound to take some of them when they're finished, I should suppose."
"Dear Frankie," was the answer given in all seriousness, "I am so terribly afraid you're a genius!"
"Afraid!"
"Yes, for then you'll never get on in the world. It is only the second-rate people who reach the top of the ladder; the real born geniuses stick on the bottom rung, just because their work is too superior to be understood and appreciated by the common mob. There! What do you think of that? Dreadful, isn't it, poor boy?"
"I'm afraid you needn't upset yourself over my misfortunes in that direction. Who told you all this piffle?"
"Nobody exactly. I overheard two men talking at an 'at home.'"
"Were they neglected geniuses?"