"I don't believe yours is half as good as mine and I'm not going to wait to hear it. Now listen--" and she opened an envelope that lay on the table within reach of her hand. "This is from my brother John--" and she turned toward Richard and Nathan.
"He and Couture, in whose atelier I studied, are great friends. Now please pay attention Mr. Autocrat--" and she looked at Oliver over the edge of the letter and began to read--"Couture came in to-day on his way home and I showed him the photograph Ollie sent me of his portrait of you--his 'Tam-o'-Shanter Girl' he calls it. Couture was so enthusiastic about it that he wants it sent to Paris at once so that he can exhibit it in his own studio to some of the painters there. Then he is going to send it to the Salon. So you can tell that 'Johnnie Reb' to pass it along to me by the first steamer; and you can tell him, too, that his last letter is a month old, and I am getting hungry for another."
"There now! what do you think of that? Mr. Honorable Mention."
Oliver opened his eyes in astonishment.
"That's just like John, bless his heart!" he answered slowly, as his glance sought the floor. This last drop had filled his cup of happiness to the brim--Some of it was glistening on his lashes.
"Now tell me your good news--" she continued, her eyes still dancing. She had seen the look but misunderstood the cause.
Oliver raised his eyes--"Oh, it's not nearly as good as yours, Madge, in one way and yet in another it's a heap better. What do you think? Old Peter Fish wants me to paint his daughter's portrait."
Margaret laid her hand on his.
"Oh, Oliver! Not Peter Fish! That's the best thing that has happened yet," and her face instantly assumed a more serious expression. "I know the girl --she will be an easy subject; she's exactly your type. How do you know?"
"Just saw John Snedecor in answer to a letter he wrote me. Fish has bought the 'Woman in Black.'
He's delighted with it."
"Why, I thought it belonged to the Countess."
"So it did. She sold it."
"Sold it!"
"Yes. Does it surprise you?"
"No; I can't say that it does. I am glad, though, that it will stay in the country. It's by far the best thing you or anybody else has done this season. I was afraid she would take it back with her. Poor woman! she has had a hard life, and it doesn't seem to get any better, from what I hear."
"You know the original, then, my dear?" asked Richard, holding out his second cup of tea for another lump of sugar, which Margaret in her excitement had forgotten. He and Nathan had listened with the keenest interest to the reading of John Grant's letter and to the discussion that had followed.
"I know OF her," answered Margaret as she dropped it in; "and she knows me, but I've never met her. She's a Pole, and something of a painter, too.
She studied in the same atelier where I was, but that was before I went to Paris. Her husband became mixed up in some political conspiracy and was sent to Siberia, and she was put across the frontier that same night. She is very popular in Paris; they all like her, especially the painters. There is nothing against her except her poverty." There could be nothing against any woman in Margaret's eyes. "But for her jewels she would have had as hard a time to get on as the rest of us. Now and then she parts with one of her pearls, and between times she teaches music. You must see the picture Oliver painted of her--it will delight you."
"Oh, but I have!" exclaimed Richard, laying down his cup. "We looked at it as we came up. It is really a great picture. He tells me it is the work of two hours and under gas-light."
"No, not altogether, father. I had a few hours on it the next day," interrupted Oliver.
"Strong, isn't it?" continued Margaret, without noticing Oliver's explanation. "It is really better in many ways than the girl in the Tam-o'-Shanter cap--the one he painted of me. That had some of Lely's qualities about it, especially in the flesh tones. He always tells me the inspiration to paint it came from an old picture belonging to his uncle. You know that of course?" and she laid a thin sandwich on Nathan's plate.
"You mean Tilghman's Lely--the one in his house in Kennedy Square? Oh," said Richard, lifting his fingers in appreciation, "I know every line of it. It is one of the best Lely's I ever saw, and to me the gem of Tilghman's collection."
"Yes; so Ollie tells me," continued Margaret.
