The other took down the address, and so did Grace. Gifted with a warm, sympathetic nature, she could hardly repress the disgust she felt at the miserable selfishness of the two handsomely dressed girls, who counted it a smart thing to obtain the services of an accomplished artist at a price which would have poorly compensated a hod carrier.
"I may as well have my portrait painted," she said to herself. "It will give me an excuse for helping this young man, who has been so cruelly underpaid by one who could evidently afford to pay him fairly."
The next morning Frederic Vernon was sitting in his plain studio in a fit of despondency. He had just had a visit from Miss Framley, who had given him an order for a portrait, after beating him down to twenty dollars.
In vain he had told her that he could not afford to work so cheap. She protested that she would not pay a cent more than her friend.
Vernon was on the point of declining the commission, but he reflected with a sigh that work even at that price was better than to be idle, and he sadly consented.
Miss Framley, well pleased with the success of her negotiation, swept out of the studio, in her seal-skin sacque and costly silk, feeling that she would be applauded by her father—a wholesale pork merchant—for her financial success.
On the stairs, as she was descending, she met Miss Dearborn, whom she recognized by sight, and would have been glad to know.
"Is Miss Dearborn going to patronize the artist?" she thought. "If he gets many patrons like her, he will be getting fashionable, and put up his prices. I am glad I have made my bargain."
Miss Dearborn entered the studio, and a hasty glance satisfied her that the artist was indeed poor. She glanced at the artist, and felt an immediate interest in him. Though shabbily dressed, she read refinement and nobility of character in his expressive face, and was extremely glad she had come.
"Mr. Vernon, I believe," she said, gently.