Oh for a good genius to suggest some reply that might please him and not violate truth! All I could find was a foolish "Of course not," which prolonged, but did not elude the difficulty.
"Do you like it or not?" he repeated.
I did not reply.
"A plain yes or no, Daisy."
"Well, then,—no," I exclaimed, desperately.
Cornelius whistled.
"She is grown up," he said; "not like my picture! decidedly she is grown up! Why, the other one would have admired any daub I painted!"
Tears of vexation rose to my eyes; he stooped, and smiled in my face.
"Why should you be annoyed when I am not?" he asked, very kindly.
"I am mortified at my bad taste, Cornelius."