“Well, then, you can stay where you be another day.” Uncle William smiled cheerfully.
“Can I see her?”
“We’ll see about that. I’ve got a good many things to tend to.” Uncle William bustled away.
After a time his head was thrust in the door. “I’ll go see her, myself, byme-by,” he said kindly. “Mebbe she’ll come back with me.”
“It’s too late now.” The artist spoke a little bitterly.
“Too late!” Uncle William came out, reproachful and surprised. “What d’you mean?”
“It’s quarter to nine. She goes to work at nine. She has pupils—she teaches all day.”
Uncle William’s face dropped a little. “That’s too bad now, ain’t it! But don’t you mind. I wa’n’t just certain I’d let you see her to-day, anyhow.”
“When can I?”
Uncle William pondered. “You’re in a good deal of a hurry, ain’t you?”