“C——. June 1st. The Academy of Arts announces that it will offer a series of prizes for painting and sculpture, to be competed for according to the following rules.” Then followed a list of regulations, after which the notice went on to say that, “All work must be submitted on or before September 1st. Three prizes will be awarded in each department. No work will be considered unless etc., etc.”
“Well, what of it?” said Paul, shortly.
“Can’t you—why don’t you—”
“You know I can’t. Look at that kid down there, will you—”
“Paul, why not?”
“Because I can’t, I tell you,” he repeated, irritably.
“But why don’t you try,” persisted Jane, undaunted. “If you don’t win anything, there’s no harm done, and if you should, Paul—if you should—”
“When and where would I be able to do any work, will you tell me?” He spoke almost angrily, but he took the paper from her hand and looked at it again.
“What are you two whispering about?” inquired Carl. He still felt a twinge of jealousy when he saw Jane and Paul talking without taking him into their confidence.
“Nothing,” said Paul. “Just something Jane saw in the paper.” And picking up Minie’s rubber ball he began to bounce and catch it monotonously.