“The technical part of all this criticism I don't pretend to understand in the least; but from what I hear and read, he must, indeed, have made a terrible mess of it, and of course I'm very sorry--and some surprised, too, for usually he paints such pretty pictures! “Still, on the other hand, Billy, I'm not surprised. William says that Bertram has been completely out of fix over something, and as gloomy as an owl, for weeks past; and of course, under those circumstances, the poor boy could not be expected to do good work. Now William, being a man, is not supposed to understand what the trouble is. But I, being a woman, can see through a pane of glass when it's held right up before me; and I can guess, of course, that a woman is at the bottom of it--she always is!--and that you, being his special fancy at the moment” (Billy almost did tear the letter now--but not quite), “are that woman. “Now, Billy, you don't like such frank talk, of course; but, on the other hand, I know you do not want to ruin the dear boy's career. So, for heaven's sake, if you two have been having one of those quarrels that lovers so delight in--do, please, for the good of the cause, make up quick, or else quarrel harder and break it off entirely--which, honestly, would be the better way, I think, all around. “There, there, my dear child, don't bristle up! I am very fond of you, and would dearly love to have you for a sister--if you'd only take William, as you should! But, as you very well know, I never did approve of this last match at all, for either of your sakes. “He can't make you happy, my dear, and you can't make him happy. Bertram never was--and never will be--a marrying man. He's too temperamental--too thoroughly wrapped up in his Art. Girls have never meant anything to him but a beautiful picture to paint. And they never will. They can't. He's made that way. Listen! I can prove it to you. Up to this winter he's always been a care-free, happy, jolly fellow, and you _know_ what beautiful work he has done. Never before has he tied himself to any one girl till last fall. Then you two entered into this absurd engagement. “Now what has it been since? William wrote me himself not a fortnight ago that he'd been worried to death over Bertram for weeks past, he's been so moody, so irritable, so fretted over his work, so unlike himself. And his picture has _failed_ dismally. Of course William doesn't understand; but I do. I know you've probably quarrelled, or something. You know how flighty and unreliable you can be sometimes, Billy, and I don't say that to mean anything against you, either--that's _your_ way. You're just as temperamental in your art, music, as Bertram is in his. You're utterly unsuited to him. If Bertram is to marry _anybody_, it should be some quiet, staid, sensible girl who would be a _help_ to him. But when I think of you two flyaway flutterbudgets marrying--!