There was the difference of many years between the man and the boy, but to no other person was Scheffer in the habit of saying such things.
'I'd like to see Madam Scheffer,' said Paul, with a quiet laugh. Scheffer was indulgent toward that mirth; he smiled as he said:
'Be patient, as I am, and you shall see her. There was a Mrs. Scheffer once—my mother that was; if there's another like her—I believe there is!'
'Can't you draw me her portrait?'
'Perhaps I could, if I cared.'
'But you don't care. Well, I can get it out of Josephine; she remembers your mother.'
Paul looked so much like his sister when he named the name of Josephine and of his mother in one breath, that Scheffer could not refuse him.
'Medium size,' he said, 'and built to last. Graceful, as any mother would have been—if—as she was, in spite of hard work—it was her nature, and her nature was a strong one. She has light hair, that curls as if it liked to, and her eyes are blue. It is a fair face, Paul, and she has a kind smile.'
'But tell me her name; for you need not say it's a fancy sketch.'
'May be not; but that, you see, is my secret.'