Mr. Winslow was at last speaking, if only to ask a question.
“How long and with whom have you studied?” he inquired, holding up one of the small sketches so that it formed a shield for his face.
“Why, I have never really studied at all,” Tory answered. “I mean I have had no regular lessons. I, of course, have had the advantage of hearing a good many clever people talk about art and I have watched my father work and have worked beside him for as long as I can remember. Until this winter father has believed it wiser for me not to study art. He wanted me to learn more of other things first. He was afraid I would lose interest in school and not be properly domestic.”
Again Mr. Winslow was silent.
“Is my work so poor? Do you think I had best give up altogether the hope of becoming an artist?” Tory demanded, desperate at last, but at the same time determined she would never give up.
“I am not sure, but I am going to be truthful, Tory. I am disappointed in your work; from what your father had said and written me I had expected more.”
The hand that had sheltered his face dropped to his lap and Tory was angry and touched by the artist’s expression. He seemed so very sorry for what he was saying and yet felt obliged to speak.
Making a sudden movement as if she would rescue her despised sketches, Tory felt her hand seized and herself drawn up to stand beside the artist.
Endeavoring to smile gallantly, she was meeting with little success.
“My dear child, you have misunderstood me. I don’t know how to make myself clear to young people, nor to old ones for that matter. I am far from intending to say you have no talent. I think you have talent, although I would not have you trust my judgment altogether. What I meant was that I was surprised you do not know more of the technical side of your work with so successful an artist as your father is. You have originality, but you draw badly and your coloring is—oh, well, you see I do not agree with other artists, so perhaps you are right and I am wrong. I don’t see why your father sent you to me for my opinion. There are a dozen other better men he might have asked.”