Mrs. Gann's other lodger was a fantastic youth, Andrea Fitch, to whom his art, and his beard and whiskers, were the darlings of his heart. He was a youth of poetic temperament, whose long pale hair fell over a high polished brow, which looked wonderfully thoughtful; and yet no man was more guiltless of thinking. He was always putting himself into attitudes, and his stock-in-trade were various theatrical properties, which when arranged in his apartments on the second floor made a tremendous show.
The Misses Wellesley McCarty voted this Mr. Fitch an elegant young fellow, and before long the intimacy between the young people was considerable, for Mr. Fitch insisted upon drawing the portraits of the whole family.
"I suppose you will do my Carrie next?" said Mr. Gann, one day, expressing his approbation of a portrait just finished, wherein the Misses McCarty were represented embracing one another.
"Law, sir," exclaimed Miss Linda, "Carrie, with her red hair!—"
"Mr. Fitch might as well paint Becky, our maid!" cried Miss Bella.
"Carrie is quite impossible, Gann," said Mrs. Gann; "she hasn't a gown fit to be seen in. She's not been at church for thirteen Sundays in consequence."
"And more shame for you, ma'am," said Mr. Gann, who liked his child; "Carrie shall have a gown, and the best of gowns;" and jingling three and twenty shillings in his pocket, Mr. Gann determined to spend them all in the purchase of a robe for Carrie. But, alas, the gown never came; half the money was spent that very evening at the tavern.
"Is that—that young lady your daughter?" asked Mr. Fitch, surprised, for he fancied Carrie was a humble companion of the family.
"Yes, she is, and a very good daughter, too, sir," answered Mr. Gann. "Fetch and Carrie I call her, or else Carry-van; she is so useful. Ain't you, Carrie?"
"I'm very glad if I am, Papa," said the young lady, blushing violently.