The old man smiled. “My dear child,” he remarked, “women always remember that Jacob served seven years! But Fox is a genius, an unusual man and probably as fickle as the wind. However, he’ll have to reap as he has sown; doubtless he has dangled at Margaret’s elbow; it’s been the fashion. Well, well, it will very likely thwart his career and, if so, he’ll deserve it, but I hoped great things of him though I’ve feared him a little too; genius is like fire—it burns where it touches.”
He rose and put aside his papers. “I’ve written to Robert and enclosed the check,” he said; “he’ll get it to-morrow.”
“Then I’ll go there to-day,” said Rose; “I shouldn’t dare to-morrow; he’ll be furious.”
“Not a bit of it, he has too much sense,” retorted the judge; “besides, he can’t have my girl yet!”
“Nor ever!” said Rose smiling as her father bent suddenly and kissed her.
“Ever is a long word,” he replied and laughed gently; in his heart he believed that Allestree would make her happy.
An hour later Rose joined Mrs. Allestree on the way to the studio. The old lady was out walking in the spring sunshine, her fine aged face mapped close with delicate wrinkles and little puckers and her keen old eyes bright and alert in spite of the weight of years.
She took Rose’s proffered arm with a smile. “I forgot my cane,” she said; “I always forget that I’m more than twenty-four until I try to go up stairs. I tell Robert that I can’t climb up to his studio much longer, he’ll have to have an elevator. I’m going now to see your picture, he means to send it to your father to-morrow; it’s been hard to part with it!”
Rose colored deeply, much to her own chagrin. “Father is anxious to have it,” she said, “he spoke about it this morning.”