His hostess told Jessie's story in a few words, and was surprised to hear him say in a satisfied tone,—
“I'm glad she is poor. I want her head, and now there is some chance of getting it.”
“My dear Mr. Vane, what DO you mean?” asked the lady, laughing.
“I came to study young faces; I want one for a picture, and that little girl with the red leaves is charming. Please present me.”
“No use; you may ask for her hand by-and-by, if you like, but not for her head. She is very proud, and never would consent to sit as a model, I'm sure.”
“I think I can manage it, if you will kindly give me a start.”
“Very well. The children are just going down to supper, and Miss Delano will rest. You can make your bold proposal now, if you dare.”
A moment later, as she stood watching the little ones troop away, Jessie found herself bowing to the tall gentleman, who begged to know what he could bring her with as much interest as if she had been the finest lady in the room. Of course she chose ice-cream, and slipped into a corner to rest her tired feet, preferring the deserted parlor to the noisy dining-room,—not being quite sure where she belonged now.
Mr. Vane brought her a salver full of the dainties girls best love, and drawing up a table began to eat and talk in such a simple, comfortable way that Jessie could not feel shy, but was soon quite at her ease. She knew that he was a famous artist, and longed to tell him about poor Laura, who admired his pictures so much and would have enjoyed every moment of this chance interview. He was not a very young man, nor a handsome one, but he had a genial face, and the friendly manners which are so charming; and in ten minutes Jessie was chatting freely, quite unconscious that the artist was studying her in a mirror all the while. They naturally talked of the children, and after praising the pretty dance Mr. Vane quietly added,—
“I've been trying—to find a face among them for a picture I'm doing; but the little dears are all too young, and I must look elsewhere for a model for my wood-nymph.”