"Where is it, Cornelius?" I asked at length.
"Where is what, child?" he replied, turning round.
"The other picture."
"What other picture?"
"The one for which you put by Medora."
I was looking at him very earnestly: I saw him redden.
"There is no other picture," he answered; "I have been obliged to work for money; to do such things as this," he added, pointing with a sigh to the painting which he was copying.
"Have you earned much money?" I asked seriously.
"A little," he replied smiling.
"Do you think you will sell the Happy Time?"