"Not precisely, Major Ashton," responded the young lady, smiling with pleasure at being noticed by so desirable an acquaintance; "I was resting for a moment. Really fashionable life is so exhausting—parties and engagements nearly every night in the week. However, you know all about that."
"I am not so easily fatigued, perhaps, as if I belonged to the fairer sex. Will you accept my arm for a promenade, or are you too much fatigued?"
"Oh, I am quite rested, I assure you," said the young lady, joyfully.
"I see the portrait painter is here," remarked Major Ashton, with a carelessness he did not feel.
"Yes; isn't it strange Miss Dearborn should invite him?" returned Miss Framley, eagerly. "Really almost a beggar, as you may say."
"Is he poor, then?" asked the major.
"He was miserably poor, but I believe he is doing better now. Why, he used to paint portraits for twenty dollars!"
"Hardly enough to pay for the materials," said Ashton, shrugging his shoulders.
"Oh, he was glad enough to get orders at that price. I took pity on him myself, and gave him an order."
"Very considerate of you, upon my word!" said Major Ashton.