“Yet, if you follow in your father’s track, you will lead a comfortable, useful life. If you follow art, you may go through years of poverty and suffering before success is attained.”
The boy raised his head and looked full at the speaker; there was almost passionate entreaty in his eyes.
“Oh, sir,” he said, “if you would only persuade my father to let me try—even for a few years. If I did not succeed I would come back to him and work as a laborer for the rest of my life without a murmur.”
Mr. Herbert was impressed by the boy’s earnestness. “I will speak to your father,” he said. Then the two went back to the sitting-room, where they found Abraham Leigh much exercised by some difficult questions propounded by Miss Herbert respecting the nature of Apollyon.
“Take my little girl for a walk round the garden,” said Mr. Herbert to young Leigh. “I want to speak to your father.”
In spite of the great gulf between her and the clay-bespattered boy in his shirt sleeves, the little princess was too glad of a change of scene to wish to disobey her father. She followed her conductor to the back of the house, and the boy and girl stepped out into the autumnal sunshine.
The little maid looked so trim and dainty in her neat riding-habit, coquettish hat and tiny gloves that his own draggled appearance struck the boy forcibly.
“If you will excuse me a minute,” he said, “I will run and wash my hands.”
“Yes; I think it will be better,” said Miss Herbert, with dignity.
In a minute or two young Leigh returned. He had found time not only to wash the rich red clay from his long, well-shaped fingers, but to slip on his coat and generally beautify himself. His improved appearance had a great effect upon the child, who, like most of her age, was influenced by exteriors.