"Lizzie," said Tom Bagg, who felt wholeheartedly generous once he was convinced of anything, "this is not at all a bad bit of work. Why didn't you tell me you could paint likenesses?"
He was evidently greatly struck with the painting, and seemed to admire it so genuinely, that any annoyance Elizabeth may have felt faded immediately, and she laughed a little nervously and said she was glad he liked it.
When Pamela had decided to bring the picture down to show to Tom Bagg she had not expected her action to do more than make Tom Bagg realize the talent of his sister, and so make it easier for her to have more time for her painting. Tom Bagg certainly did realize his sister's talent at last; but the matter did not end there; he became so pleased with the picture that the following evening he carried it (without Elizabeth's permission) down to the 'Blue Boar,' where he proudly displayed it to his bosom friends, and any strangers who happened to drop in while he was there, and was much elated by the unanimous praise it received.
Whether you believe the Wishing Well had anything to do with the sequel depends on whether you believe in Wishing Wells or not. Pamela undoubtedly puts it down to the Wishing Well. She had wished that Elizabeth Bagg's work would gain recognition. And it did. It happened that a Mr Alfred Knowles, an influential art connoisseur from London, came into the 'Blue Boar' that evening just when Tom Bagg was showing the picture to a group of men in the bar-parlour. Mr Knowles listened with great interest to Tom Bagg's explanations and remarks, and getting into conversation with the old cabman, questioned him closely about his sister's work. An introduction to Elizabeth Bagg followed, and Mr Knowles was so delighted with her pictures that he purchased several and took them back to town with him; he would have liked to buy the firelight picture, but Tom Bagg seemed so anxious to keep it that Elizabeth decided not to part with it, but promised Mr Knowles that she would have a reproduction made for him as quickly as possible. And so the original picture of Tom Bagg telling stories to his children was hung up over the mantel-piece in the living-room of the little cottage in Long Lane.
Pamela was delighted by the turn events had taken. Had she been able to see into Elizabeth's future she would have been more delighted still. For Elizabeth's pictures were to be seen and admired by Mr Knowles' artistic friends, and she was to get commissions from them for numerous paintings, so that as time went on she was obliged to give up her classes at Inchmoor in order to give all her spare time to her painting at home. And with the money she earned Elizabeth was eventually able to pay for some one to come and do the housework for her brother, and washing and mending, and to help look after the children. For, though Elizabeth achieved in time a small amount of fame, it never altered her decision to stay and look after her brother and his children.
"I couldn't be happy if I left them now," she would say, when tempted with the thought of that wonderful room in London. Instead, she rented a room in Barrowfield, which she turned into a studio, and divided her days between the studio and her brother's house.
As for Tom Bagg, he was bewildered yet gratified with the state of affairs; his respect for Elizabeth increased by leaps and bounds as he saw how highly valued her work became. Gradually he came to wonder if he and the children were a drag on Elizabeth's career, and once he offered her her freedom, and was deeply touched by her decision to stay with him....
And there was to come a day in the future when Pamela and Michael and Elizabeth Bagg were to pay a visit to the Royal Academy to see Elizabeth's latest picture hung....
But all this was to happen some years after Pamela's first visit to Barrowfield was over. Up to the present time Elizabeth's pictures had just been bought by Mr Knowles—which was sufficient for Pamela to be able to announce to three interested girls at Chequertrees that her Wishing Well wish had come true.
CHAPTER XVII