"Well, which do you prefer?"
I luckily hit on the very sketch he himself approved.
"That child has a great deal of judgment," he observed, with thoughtful satisfaction: "I could trust to her opinion as to my own: it is the best, of course it is. There, put them all away; you have always kept my things in order for me until lately; see the mess in which they now are."
So they were, in a most artistic confusion, which I remedied with great alacrity. When we went down to breakfast, Kate, who had seen with pleasure that I had not of late been so much with her brother, asked, with some asperity, "if I was again going to settle myself upstairs."
"Precisely," replied Cornelius, and with great ardour and enthusiasm he told her of his intended picture. "Such an admirable subject,—not at all so commonplace as the 'Happy Time.'"
Miss O'Reilly was horrified at the prospect of Gipsy sitters, and prophesied the utter ruin of her household. Cornelius laughed at her fears, and promised to keep such strict watch that no disaster could possibly occur. The Gipsy couple came the same day—a wild, restless- looking pair, who tried to the utmost the patience of Cornelius, and gave me many an odd, shy look as they saw me take my attitude, in the costume, more picturesque than attractive, of an old brown skirt, torn and made ragged for the purpose; a shabby bodice; my hair loose and tangled, and my neck, arms, and feet bare. They were very wilful, too, and had on the subject of attitudes ideas which differed materially from those of Cornelius. At length the group was formed, and in this first sitting he could take a rapid sketch of it, "just to fix the idea of it in his mind," he observed to Kate at tea-time; "they were a little restless for the first time, but I have no doubt we shall get on very well, though you looked rather afraid of that swarthy fellow, Daisy."
"I did not like his eyes—nor those of his wife either, Cornelius."
"Why, there is a tea-spoon missing," hastily observed Kate, who had been holding a conference at the door with Deborah; "you had not one in the studio, had you, Cornelius?"
He rose precipitately, left the room, and in a few minutes, came down with a melancholy face.
"There was one and there is not one," he said, sadly,—"the perfidious wretches!"