The End of a Coil

by Susan Warner

"Painting miniatures—one of the last things."

"Oh, delightful! Copies?"

"Copies from life. May I take you? and then perhaps, if I succeed, you will get me work."

"Work!" repeated Christina.

Dolly nodded. "Yes; I want work."

"Work!" cried Christina again. "Dolly, you don't mean that you need it? Don't say that!"

"I do. That's nothing so dreadful, if only I can get it. I paint miniatures for—I have had ten and I have had twenty pounds," said Dolly with a laugh; "but twenty is magnificent. I do not ask twenty."

Christina exclaimed with real sorrow and interest, and was eager to know the cause of such a state of things. Dolly could but give her the bare facts, not the philosophy of them.

"You poor, dear, lovely little Dolly!" cried Christina. "A thought strikes me. Why don't you marry this handsome, rich young Englishman?"

Again Dolly's face dimpled all over.