And then Guy took the palette and brushes, and his mother watched and instructed his work as the bold foreground of a landscape which she had sketched began to assume shape and colour; while Maude devoted herself to the before mentioned piece of needlework.
Just at such a moment, a fine, strong, sunburnt country-gentleman was puffing and flapping about in the narrow street something like a whale in shallow water, and not in the most amiable of tempers, to judge by the impatient thumping of small knockers, or pulling of broken bell-wires, as he applied at several neighbouring doors, and ended his startling summons at that of the house in which Mrs. Falconer resided.
That he had been admitted and was plunging up the dark stairs became evident, and his impression of No. 20, — Street was not complimentary to the lady of the house.
"Whew," he muttered as he stumbled behind her, "this after Falcon Range!—What a den!"
"They are good enough for your betters, sir, whoever you are," said the indignant landlady; "my rooms are the best and cleanest in the whole neighbourhood, and I'm not to be insulted by anybody's ignorant notions."
"Well, well, my good lady, I beg your pardon I'm sure."
And the mollified landlady withdrew as the visitor turned with interest to the startled group before him.
"I must also beg your pardon, Mrs. Falconer, but I have been seeking you all the morning, and must now deliver my errand, and get home again. I regret to see that the bloom has faded from these young cheeks, but we will have it back soon; London does not suit young plants."
"They are growing fast," said Mrs. Falconer.
And a look was turned towards her which seemed to say, "And pray how do you account for your own sickly appearance? Are you growing too?"