After this, to Dotty's dismay, they went to the Academy of Design, and criticised pictures.
The statue of Eve Horace regarded with some contempt. "No wonder she didn't know any better than to eat the apple! What do you expect of a woman with such a small head as that? Look here who do you suppose was Eve's shoemaker? Cain?"
"Shoemaker? Why, Horace, she's barefoot."
"So she is, now, Dot; but she's worn shoes long enough to cramp her toes."
"Strange I never noticed that before," said Mrs. Pragoff. "I think the sculptor ought to know your criticism, Master Horace."
"She's a woman that understands what a boy is worth," thought Horace, very much flattered. "Tell you what, I never saw a more sensible person than Mrs. Pragoff."
"Now, dears, shall we go to Stewart's?"
"O, no'm; please don't," cried Dotty. "Because," added she, checking herself, "their curtains are all down; and don't you s'spose Mr. Stewart and the clerks have gone off somewhere?"
Mrs. Pragoff laughed, but, concluding the child was very tired, proposed going home; and, to Dotty's great joy, they started at once.
"I shall so grieve to part with you!" said Mrs. Pragoff, as they went along. "I wish you were mine to keep, every soul of you."