Her uncle rubbed his beard. “He is studying to paint pictures, just as you are studying to sing,” he observed. “According to what I hear, they teach both those things better over yonder than they do here. I don’t wonder he wants to go. Good idea, I should say. When is he going?” “Very soon. In a few weeks, he says. His grandfather has said that he might.” “Has, eh? Humph! Elisha must have more money than I thought he had. Paying lawyers can’t be as expensive for him as it is for me. Or,” with a twist of his mouth, “perhaps he doesn’t pay ’em.” Esther hastened to explain. “Bob has some money of his own,” she said. “His grandfather won’t have to pay any of his expenses.” “Oh!... Oh, yes, yes! He’s rich, then, as well as handsome--and smart?” He had not meant to emphasize the “smart,” but he did, a little. She noticed it. “Bob _is_ smart,” she declared. “Every one says he is.” “And I suppose he lets ’em say it. Well, maybe he is as smart as he thinks he is. We’ll see how it turns out.” “What turns out? His painting, do you mean? Oh, I am sure he is going to be a wonderful artist. Just look at that portrait he did of me, with scarcely any study at all.” He did not look at the portrait and he talked very little during the evening. Esther did not mind. She was relieved that he had not shown resentment when told that Griffin was to be in Paris during her own stay there. Well, at all events, this proved that Nabby Gifford’s insinuation had not a word of truth behind it. Nothing of moment happened in the Townsend household until Tuesday morning. Then, when breakfast was over, her uncle called her into the library. He had a letter in his hand and there was a serious expression on his face. He asked her to sit down, but he did not sit. Instead he paced up and down the floor, a sure sign that he was much disturbed in mind. “Esther,” he said, turning toward her, “I’ve got some bad news for you. I’m afraid you will think it is pretty bad, when I tell you what it is. I got a letter yesterday. I didn’t say anything about it then. I always think the morning is the time to face bad news; you have all day to get used to it in and consequently you can sleep better when bedtime comes.... Well, we might as well get it over. Esther, it looks as if you wasn’t going abroad, after all--now, I mean.” She caught her breath. She had been trying to surmise what the bad news might be, but she had not thought of this. “Not going abroad!” she repeated, aghast. “You mean I am not going to Paris?” He nodded. “That is just about what I do mean, I guess,” he affirmed. “It looks as if you couldn’t go--for the present, anyhow. Of course, by and by, later on, you and I will go together, same as we used to plan; but your cruise with Mrs. Carter is off, I’m afraid.... It is a big disappointment for you, isn’t it? Yes, I can see that it is.”