"Yes. To paint likenesses, like this, in miniature. I can take ivory, but I would not waste ivory on this one. I'll do yours on ivory if you like."
"But orders?" said Lawrence, dumbfounded.
"Yes," said Dolly, nodding, "orders; and for as high pay as you think I can properly ask. Hush! say nothing to mother"——
"Is that like me?" Mrs. Copley asked, after studying the little picture.
"Capitally like you!" Lawrence cried.
"Then I've changed more'n I thought I had, that's all. I don't think I care about your painting me any more, Dolly, if that's the best you can do."
"Why, Mrs. Copley," said Lawrence, "it's beautiful. Exactly your turn of the head, and the delicate fresh colour in your cheeks. It's perfect!"
"Is it?" said Mrs. Copley in a modified tone. "So that's what you've been fussing about, Dolly, these two days. Well, take Mr. St. Leger next. I want to see what you'll make of him. She won't flatter you," the lady went on; "that's one thing you may lay your account with; she won't flatter you. But if we're going away, you won't have much chance; and, seems to me, we had better settle which way we are going."
Lawrence did not take up this hint. He sat gazing at the little miniature, which was in its way very lovely. The colours were lightly laid in, the whole was rather sketchy; but the grace of the delineation was remarkable, and the likeness was perfect; and Dolly had shown a true artist's eye in her choice of position and point of view.
"I did not know you had such a wonderful talent," he remarked.