“I know it isn’t, and I wish to goodness I could help you out. By the way, though,” added he, jumping up from his chair, “I’ve got it.”
“Don’t,” said she; “you’ll only start the cough. What have you got? An idea?”
“Yes. Rosalind, do you know I’m going to get some painting-lessons?”
“Where? Oh, I wish I could afford some too. Is there any one near here who teaches?”
“Yes. Some one who’s just starting. A rather jolly girl, only she has an awful temper; and I’m afraid, when she sees what a poor hand I make, she’ll have no patience with me.”
Rosalind looked at him steadily, and then smiled.
“How nice of you! May I really try? I’ll teach you all I know.”
“Will you promise to be nice, and never to fly out at me?”
“No, I’ll promise nothing of the sort. But if you learn well, I’ll be very proud.”
“And your terms?”