'But his foot is better; he is able to stand, is he not?'
'I believe so. Richard certainly said as much as that.'
'Then it is very wrong for him to be losing time like this; he will not have his picture in the Academy after all. Some one ought to write and remind him,' faltered Polly, with a little heat.
'I have done so more than once, and Richard is for ever lecturing. Roy is terribly desultory, I am afraid.'
'Indeed you are wrong, Aunt Milly,' persisted the girl earnestly. 'Roy loves his work—dearly—dearly—it is only his foot, and—' she broke down, recovered herself, and hurried on—
'I think it would be a good thing if Dad Fabian were to go and talk to him. I will write to him—yes, and I will write to Roy.'
Mildred did not venture to dissuade her; she had a notion that perhaps Polly's persuasion might be more efficacious than Richard's arguments. She took it quite as a matter of course, when, half an hour later, Polly laid the little note down beside her.
'There, you may read it,' she said, hurriedly. 'Let it go in Richard's letter; he may read it too, if he likes.'
It was very short, and covered the tiniest sheet of note-paper; the pretty handwriting was not quite so steady as usual.
'My dearest brother Roy,' it began—never had she called him that before—'I have never written to thank you for your note. It was a dear, kind note, and I love you for writing it; do not be afraid of my misunderstanding or thinking you unkind; you could not be that to any one. I am so thankful your poor foot is better; it has been terrible to think of your suffering all this time. I am so afraid it must have interfered with your painting, and that you have not got on well with the picture you began when you were here. Roy, dear, you must promise to work at it harder than ever, and as soon as you are able. I am sure it will be the best picture you have ever done, and I have set my heart on seeing it in the Academy next year; but unless you work your hardest, there will be no chance of that. I have asked Dad Fabian to come and lecture you. You and he must have one of your clever art-talks, and then you must get out your palette and brushes, and set to work on that pretty little girl's red cloak.