“I haven’t promised you a bob an hour, though,” rejoined that not-to-be-flattered genius, beginning to whistle.
“Silence, sir!” said Miss Rosalind, stamping her little foot with something like temper; “as long as you are in my class you must do as I tell you.”
Here Roger protested.
“You’re rather strict,” said he. “I don’t mind working hard and attending to all you say, but I vote we enjoy ourselves too—all three of us.”
“You mean,” said Rosalind petulantly, “that you come here to play, while I try to work.”
“No, I don’t. I come to do both, and I want you to, as well.”
“Very well then, I withdraw from my engagement,” said the young lady, with an ominous flush; “we don’t agree about art. Unless you can give yourself up to it while you are about it, it’s not meant for you—and—and I’m very sorry indeed I made such a stupid mistake as to think you meant what you said when you told me you wanted to learn.”
And she took the copy down from the easel.
“Look here, Rosalind,” said Roger, in unusual perturbation, “I’m so sorry. You’re quite right. Of course one can’t do two things at once. I’ll—”
“You’re a dear boy, as I’ve said before,” said Miss Oliphant, brightening up suddenly and accepting her victory serenely. “Now please both of you draw the picture again from memory as exactly as you can.”