"There never was such a girl!" he said, pretending to avert his face; "she knows how vexed I am with her, and yet--you see it--she insists on kissing me." "Foolish fellow, foolish fellow!" muttered Kate. I liked study, and I loved my dear master. I went and fetched a heap of books, which I brought to him, breathlessly asking what I was to learn: he had only to speak, I was ready; I was in a mood not to be frightened at the severe face of Algebra herself. He replied, that we should first see where I had left off with him, and how I had got on since then. The examination was tedious, but Cornelius warmly declared that it did me great credit, and that few girls of my age knew so well what they did know. He appointed my tasks for the next day, then rose to go and smoke a cigar in the garden, which, seen through the back-parlour window, looked cool and grey in evening dusk. "Did you post your letter?" suddenly asked Kate. Cornelius looked startled and dismayed; it was plain he had forgotten all about it. "What will she think?" he exclaimed, reddening: "it was the drawing did it. How provoking!" He took two or three turns around the room, then observed cheerfully-- "She will understand and excuse it when I explain the case--eh, Kate?" "Humph!" was her doubtful reply. "Yes she will," he confidently rejoined, and went out to smoke his cigar. I suppose the letter was duly posted on the following day. Cornelius went out early and did not return until evening. He had been disappointed in obtaining the work he hoped for; he had lost his day in looking for it, and came home in all the heat of his indignation. "I give it up!" he exclaimed a little passionately, after relating his disappointment to Kate; "and Mr. Redmond too, the Laban father of an unsightly Leah, without even the prospect of a Rachel after the seven years' bondage. Better live on bread and water than on the money which costs so dear. There is no sweetness in that labour--I hate it--and Miriam may say what she likes, there is no life like an artist's!" "What does she say?" asked Kate, laying down her work, and looking up at him. "Not much, but I can see she thinks like you. I do not blame her or you. What have I done to justify confidence? Only a foolish little thing, like Daisy, could take me at my word, and have any faith in me." "What other profession does she wish you to follow?" inquired Kate. "None; but she thinks me too enthusiastic." "A man can't be too enthusiastic about his profession," warmly responded Kate. "Indeed then you never said a truer thing." "If you think it is your vocation to paint pictures, paint pictures with all your might." "Won't I, that's all?" he replied, throwing back his head, and looking as if, in vulgar parlance, he longed to be at it. "Ay, but the means?" emphatically said Kate. "Have I not got money?"