Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Bettina, who was usually so gentle, could be prettily imperious when she chose. And now, wrought up by Malcom's reference to Barbara and her own fast crowding thoughts, her voice took on this tone, and she turned with high head to leave the studio. "Betty! Betty!" pleaded Malcom, running after her. "Why, Betty!" and the surprised, pained tone of his voice instantly stopped her on the staircase.
Malcom's eyes twinkled more and more kindly, and as he explained afterward to his wife, "Her face was sae like a pink hyacinth beent doon by the storm and a wantin' proppin' oop," that by the time she was done he was ready to accede to her wishes. "Weel," said he, "I canna refuse a blithe young leddy like yoursel, but ye must let me have my ain way."
By this means Edith obtained half her plants without cost, save for Malcom's labor of transplanting them. The weather had little influence on Malcom's wiry frame, and his spirit of energetic, cheerful industry was contagious. Once aroused and interested, Edith lost all sense of time, and the afternoon passed happily away.
"But what does it mean?" persisted Malcom. "What do you mean?" springing up with a quick look into his eyes. "You foolish boy!" as an inkling of Malcom's meaning crept into her mind.
"I think it is fine, Uncle Rob. It's all right;" and Malcom's steady blue eyes emphasized his satisfaction. "What do you call Raphael's greatest picture?" asked Barbara, as they turned from the frescoed walls. "These are his most important frescoes," replied Mr. Sumner; "and all critics agree that his most famous easel picture is the Madonna di San Sisto in the Dresden Gallery.
"Come alone by yourself," he added in a low voice. Wondering a little at the singular request and the peculiar expression of Malcom's face, Bettina soon followed him. Entering the studio, she found him attentively regarding a small canvas which he had placed on an easel, and took her place beside him that she might look at it also.
With cheeks burning with shame and knees trembling with weakness, she reached Malcom's gate, to which she clung panting for a moment, and then passed in. The little man had his coat off, and, stooping in his strawberry-bed, he did look very small indeed. Edith approached quite near before he noticed her.
"No, Miss Edie, he hasn't been here." "Go look at the garden." He returned with eyes dilated in wonder, and asked quickly, "Miss Edie, when was all dat done?" "Between dark last night and when I got up this morning. It seems like magic, don't it? But of course it is Malcom's work. I only wish I could see him."
So she told it at Malcom's request, her delicate fingers clasping and unclasping each other, according to her habit, as she talked. "How true it is that one ought to know the reason why a picture is painted, all about its painter, and a thousand other things, in order to appreciate it properly," said Malcom, as they turned to leave the room. "That is so," replied his uncle.
Miss Sherman reddened, and Malcom's eyes danced. "How strange!" said Margery, innocently. The pictures were, unfortunately, of secondary interest to all the group save Margery; and, as Mr. Sumner and Barbara did not return, they, before very long, declared themselves tired, and returned home. The truth was, each one was longing for private thought. Meanwhile Barbara and Mr.
Word Of The Day