"If I could write like that," said Archibald, and stopped and looked into the fire.
Louise rose and came and stood back of him. "You can paint," she said, "why should you want to write?"
"I can't paint," he reached up and caught her hand in his; "you think I can, but I can't. And I am not wonderful—— Yet here I must sit and listen while you and Becky sing young Paine's praises."
He flung out his complaint with his air of not being in earnest.
The Admiral got up stiffly. "I've a letter to
write before I go to bed. Don't let me hurry the rest of you."
"Please take Louise with you," Archibald begged; "I want to talk to Becky."
His sister rumpled his hair. "So you want to get rid of me. Becky, he is going to ask questions about that boy who wrote the story."
"Are you?" Becky demanded.
"Louise is a mind reader. That's why I want her out of the way——"