“I was getting awfully tired of it, Tom, but Carlotta has given me a liking for everything Italian,” she said, merrily, and Tom, in the happiness which the change in her brought to him, ate the indifferent food and drank the doubtful wine contentedly. A few days later he heard singing when he knocked on Elizabeth’s door for luncheon, and recognized an old nursery rhyme, which he had not heard since his childhood, and when he came in he found her seated on the floor with Carlotta, in the midst of a collection of toys, which must have made a decided hole in her advance payment.
“Is this the way you attend to your ‘life work,’ young woman?” he asked, with mock severity, and she seemed a little shamefaced; but when the waiter brought the luncheon, he found all three of them on the floor, and Elizabeth not at all pleased with the fickle Carlotta’s preference for the house which Tom had built with the blocks. But nothing could disturb Tom’s good nature these days, for he realized that Elizabeth was growing fonder of the child each day, and with it all she seemed happier and more feminine. About a week after the sittings commenced, he noticed that her hair was arranged in the fluffy, loose way he had admired so much three years before, giving her face more of the girlish expression it had lost, and a bright ribbon at the throat relieved the somberness of her working gown.
“Why, Betsy, you are growing younger,” he said, looking at her in admiration, and she blushed in confusion.
“You mean my hair and the ribbon,” she replied, with a little trace of self-consciousness in her manner. “Well, you see, Carlotta is of a race which likes bright colors, so I thought it would please her.”
“And incidentally you have given me great pleasure,” he said, smiling at her, approvingly, and a song was in his heart as he went down the stairs.
Sunshine is not abundant in a New York winter, and none of it enters the northern windows of a studio; but Elizabeth’s tiny apartment came to have an entirely different atmosphere while the child spent her days in it. The program remained the same as on the first day; but Elizabeth employed so much of her time in petting and playing with the child, that the portrait did not advance rapidly, although enough had been accomplished to show that it promised to be, by far, the best thing which she had ever done. The jolly luncheons were a joy to both of them, and Carlotta always gave a crow of delight, which Elizabeth’s heart was beginning to echo, when Tom’s merry whistle heralded his arrival.
But on the day he had noticed the change in Elizabeth’s hair, there was a marked restraint in her manner when he came in for luncheon, and Carlotta, with the sensitiveness which makes children so quick to recognize the moods of their elders, was sitting on the couch, finger in mouth, and with widely opened eyes, which threatened tears.
“Tom, I must have a talk with you,” said Elizabeth, her voice trembling a little as he looked inquiringly from one to the other.
“Have you two had a falling out?” he asked, laughing, but Elizabeth’s expression checked his merriment.
“No, but I will tell you just what has happened, and then I want an explanation. Let me speak without interruption, and then I will hear what you have to say.” He took off his coat and sat down without speaking, and Elizabeth faced him.