“Then what are you going to do?” he asked, anxiously.
Matt was touched by the transition from reproach to solicitude.
“Oh, I shall manage somehow,” he said, huskily. “I don’t want to worry you—you’ve always been very good to me.”
“Yes, that’s all very well, but suppose you starve?” said Herbert, sharply.
“Oh, I shall find something to do,” said Matt. “In fact, I’ve already done some illustrations for the Christian Home, though they haven’t paid yet. I wouldn’t have told you if it hadn’t been for this tailor’s bill.”
“Confound him!” cried Herbert, savagely. “I’ll never recommend him another customer as long as I live.” He started promenading the studio angrily, muttering maledictions against the snip as the source of all the mischief.
“What a pity the governor won’t touch a new man’s work!” he said, pausing.
“Oh, I’d rather not trouble him,” said Matt, shrinking from a supplementary explanation with the Vandyke beard.
Herbert resumed his promenade with knitted brow. “I wonder if Drücker would take them. If you did sea-pieces—”
“Oh, please don’t worry,” pleaded Matt, concerned at his cousin’s anxiety. “I dare say I shall fall on my feet.”