a bit, Patty. That’s all very well so far as determination and will are concerned. And I can do it. My will is strong, and I know I’m started now on the right track. But—there are many hard facts to face. There’s a sordid side to the question that can’t be solved by will-power and determination. Mr. Hepworth thinks I can get a scholarship practically without cost; but, in addition to that, I have to pay my board, you know, and I have very little money. My dear old father can send me a small allowance, but we are a large family, and he is not rich. So I want to know if you think I could earn enough by some work outside my classes to pay my board—say, about fifteen dollars a week. Do you?”
Patty couldn’t help it. This question from Christine was too much!
She was sitting on a couch, and she put her head down into a big, soft pillow, and shook with laughter. Did she think a girl could earn fifteen dollars a week? Did she, indeed? With a strange sound between a gurgle and a choke, she ran out of the room.
Not for worlds would she have Christine think she was laughing at her, so in a moment she had straightened her grinning face, smothered her giggles, and returned, saying:
“Excuse me, please; I had a sudden choking spell. What were you saying?”
“You poor dear! Mayn’t I get you a glass of water?”
“No, thanks; I’m all right now. As to your question—no, Christine, I do not think you could earn fifteen dollars a week! No, nor fifteen cents a week, while you’re occupied with your lessons.”
Christine looked aghast. “Oh, Patty!” she said. “Then what am I to do? I thought you’d say, yes, I could earn that sum easily.”
Again Patty wanted to laugh. A month ago she would have said that very thing.
“Christine,” she said, gently, “listen to me. We Fairfields and Mr. Hepworth all take an interest in you and in your career. We all feel sure you will yet be a great artist. Of course, our belief is founded on Mr. Hepworth’s assertions, but we know he is capable of judging. Now you must have that year of study, and by that time Mr. Hepworth feels sure you can earn quite a lot of money by illustrating, and whatever he thinks goes!”
“Well,” said Christine, as Patty paused, uncertain how to proceed.
“Well, you see,” went on Patty, suddenly deciding that the plain, outspoken facts were best, “father has offered to pay your board for a year at some nice, pleasant boarding-house, and——Mercy! What’s the matter?”
For Christine had turned first a blazing, fiery red, and then as white as chalk, and seemed about to tumble off her chair.
“Brace up there!” cried Patty, shaking her by the shoulder. “Don’t you faint or do anything silly! I take it all back. Father wouldn’t do such a thing!”
“You misunderstand!” said Christine, smiling faintly through now rapidly falling tears. “I almost fainted from sheer gladness.”
“Oh! I thought you were angry and offended and insulted and mad as hops, and everything like that!”
“Oh, no!” cried the other. “Why, Patty, it isn’t charity; it’s great, big, splendid kindness, and it’s just a loan, you understand. I can pay it back in a couple of years after I once begin to earn money. Patty, you don’t know how sure I am of my own ability now that I understand my limitations. I can’t explain it, but I see success ahead as surely as I see the blue sky out of that window!”
Christine gazed out of the window with rapt eyes, as if she saw visions of the fame and glory that were yet to be her portion.
“You duck!” cried Patty, embracing her. “You’re just splendiferous! That’s the loveliest way you could have taken father’s offer. He is great, big, splendid kindness personified, and I’m so glad you see it.”
That evening Mr. Fairfield ratified Patty’s statements and definitely offered to pay Christine’s board bills for a year.
To Patty’s surprise, Christine showed no shyness or agitation as she answered him.
Only Nan understood that the girl’s gratitude was too real and too deep for any troublesome self-consciousness to disturb it.
“Mr. Fairfield,” she said, “I accept your offer with unspeakable thankfulness. It means my whole career, and I assure you I shall reach my goal. Of course, it is a financial loan, but after a year I shall be in a position to begin to pay it back, and it shall be promptly paid. Do not think I have unfounded faith in my success. I know what I already possess, and what more I need, and though my progress to fame may be slow, and take many long years, yet after a year’s tuition I shall be able to command a comfortable income in return for my work.”
Christine’s eyes shone with earnestness and steadfast purpose, and her face seemed to be fairly transfigured. Hers was no idle boasting. It was clear to be seen she spoke from a positive knowledge of herself, and indeed she only corroborated what Mr. Hepworth had said of her.
“Put it that way if you like,” said Mr. Fairfield, kindly; “we need not talk now about repayment. Just go ahead and find a cosy, pleasant abiding-place, and then, ho, for brushes and mahl-stick! And hurrah for our artist!”
So genial were his words and manner that Christine caught his spirit of vivacity, and responded:
“Hurrah for the Fairfields!”
So it was all settled, and Mr. Hepworth was more than delighted when he learned all about it.
Patty gave a little afternoon tea for Christine the last day of her stay, and though Christine would have greatly preferred not to be present, she yielded to Patty’s entreaties and did her best to overcome her shyness and be a satisfactory “guest of honour.”
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” said Roger to Patty, as they stood looking at Christine while the tea was in progress.
“Yes,” said Patty, “when she is talking to her own sort of people. See, those are really big artists, and she isn’t a bit afraid or embarrassed. But put some society girls near her and she crumples all up.”
“She’ll get over it,” said Roger; “and I say, Patty, you did a big thing getting her here. For of course it’s all due to you and your plucky perseverance in that foolish scheme of earning your living.”
“Huh! it wasn’t foolish since it succeeded,” said Patty, airily.
“Well, the success isn’t foolish, but your first attempts were.”
“I don’t care; it was good experience. I learned a lot, and I’m not sorry for my part of it.”
“Not even the part that made you acquainted with me?” said a merry voice, and Patty turned to see Philip Van Reypen holding out a hand in greeting.
“No!” cried Patty, as she cordially shook hands with the young man. “No, especially not sorry for that part—for that was the Success!”
“I don’t want to be over-confident,” returned Philip, gaily, “but that sounds as if meeting me were the success!”
“That wasn’t what I meant,” said Patty, smiling and dimpling, “but it remains to be seen. Perhaps we can make that a success also.”
“Do let us try!” said Philip.
PATTY'S MOTOR CAR