This was not strictly correct; I at once detected and pointed out to Cornelius several sketches new to me, and, though he at first denied it, the dates proved me to be in the right.
"You have a good memory," he said, smiling.
"As if it were likely I should forget any of your drawings or sketches! But why is not that last one of the two boys finished? it looks so pretty."
"It would have been a nice little thing," he replied, looking at it with regret, "and I had bribed them into sitting so quietly, but Miriam said they were tired, and insisted on my releasing them. I had lured them into the garden. She opened the door, and they scampered off."
"What a shame!" I exclaimed, with a degree of indignation that amused Cornelius; but for all that he shut up the sketch-book, which was no more opened that day. Our walk over, we came home; the evening, warm and summer-like, was pleasantly spent in the garden.
Early on the following morning Cornelius went out to look for the promised work. The first thing he did on coming home was to read the letter that lay waiting for him on the breakfast-table; when that was done he condescended to sit down and eat. Kate asked if he had succeeded in accomplishing his errand.
"No, indeed," he replied, with evident irritation. "Mr. Redmond was not even at home. I shall have the pleasure of another journey. Oh! Kate, I am sick of it!"
He sighed profoundly, then took up his letter, and went upstairs.
"Yes, yes, go and write," muttered Kate as the door closed upon him, "lose your time, waste your days, that is just what she wants. Midge, will you never leave off that habit of looking and listening? go upstairs, only do not talk to Cornelius whilst he is writing, or he will fly out: I warn you."
I obeyed. I went up to the studio, entered softly, and closed the door very gently: yet Cornelius heard me, for he looked up at once from his writing.