With such a noble sum of money at her disposal she was able to set herself up with an oil paint-box, palette, brushes, some canvases, and a small sketching-easel and camp-stool, an artistic outfit such as she had coveted long, and hardly expected ever to acquire. "A _new_ box is ever so much nicer than the one I saw at the sale," she exulted. "I dare say half the tubes would have been hard as bricks, and the palette was cracked too. That auctioneer did me a good turn if he only knew it." "I wonder no wily dealer snapped up the lot," said Kitty. "How savage they'd be if they knew what they'd missed." "I expect they never saw it amongst all that rubbish, or perhaps old books were not in their line. It takes special knowledge to collect them. I flatter myself it isn't everyone who recognizes an illustration by Bewick," commented Mr. Patterson, who was as pleased as anybody over the matter. "Well, it was a simply gorgeous find, and I think I'm an out-and-out lucker," rejoiced Lesbia, folding up her precious parcel of art materials, and carrying them away to gloat over them in the private sanctuary of her own bedroom. CHAPTER XIV A Country Cottage Given a new paint-box, palette, brushes, and canvasses, together with a burning enthusiasm but no time, the answer does not always spell High Art. Lesbia's first instinct was to fling everything to the winds and to devote herself in season and out of season to her absorbing hobby. But the examinations were coming on, and Mrs. Patterson, who thought much of school honours, reminded her that Miss Tatham would expect a high percentage of marks, and extracted a promise that the sketching-materials should not be touched until the holidays. "You're not so well up in your work that you can afford to waste a moment," she warned. "You ought to be doing more preparation instead of less. And after all those hours bending over books you must get out of doors for a brisk walk or play tennis. I'm not going to have you sitting still painting. You'd soon be complaining of headaches. _I_ know how to manage girls." Lesbia submitted, but groaned in private. She sometimes wished Mrs. Patterson were not _quite_ so sensible. The whole family was urging her on to work. Kitty coached her daily in mathematics, and Joan helped her with her Latin, the two subjects in which she was weakest. Having taken the responsibility of their young cousin, they were determined (as they expressed it) "to see her through", and to pitchfork her willy-nilly into the scholastic profession as the readiest path to independence. At present Lesbia felt the road to knowledge was much beset with thorns and briars. She envied Regina's accurate memory and wonderful clearness in grasping all arithmetical problems. "You're a sort of calculating genius," she assured her friend. "I wish I'd your recipe. I'm afraid I'll be a muddle-head to the end of my days."