“Of course it did, my dear. Marriage makes or mars. Mrs. Canterton must be very popular—so energetic and public spirited, and, you see, one has to remember that Mr. Canterton is in trade. That has not kept them from being county people, and, of course, Mrs. Canterton is responsible for the social position. He must be very proud of his wife.” “Possibly. I haven’t asked him, mother. I will, if you like.” Mrs. Carfax was deaf and blind to humour. “My dear Eve, I sometimes think you are a little stupid.” “Am I?” “You don’t seem to grasp things.” “Perhaps I don’t.” * * * * * CHAPTER VIII LYNETTE TAKES TO PAINTING Eve Carfax was painting an easel picture of the walled garden when Lynette arrived with a camp-stool, a drawing book, a box of paints, and a little green watering-pot full of water. “I want to make pictures. You’ll teach me, won’t you, Miss Eve?” “I’ll try to.” “I’ve got a lovely box of paints. What a nice music stand you’ve got.” “Some people call it an easel.” “I ought to have one, oughtn’t I? I’ll ask Mr. Beeby to make one. Mr. Beeby’s the carpenter. He’s such a funny man, with a round-the-corner eye.” Eve took the apprenticeship as seriously as it was offered, and started Lynette on a group of blue delphiniums, white lilies, and scarlet poppies. Lynette began with fine audacity, and red, white and blue splodges sprang up all over the sheet. But they refused to take on any suggestion of detail, and the more Lynette strove with them, the smudgier they became. “Oh, Miss Eve!” “How are you getting on?” “I’m not getting on.” “The colours seem to have got on your fingers.” “They’re all sticky. I oughtn’t to lick them, ought I?” “No. Try a rag.” “I’ll go and wash in the gold-fish basin. The gold-fish won’t mind.” She ran off into the Japanese garden, reappeared, borrowed one of Eve’s clean rags, and stood watching the expert’s brush laying on colours. “You do do it beautifully.” “Well, you see, I have done it for years.” Lynette meditated. “I shall be awful old, then, before I can paint daddy a picture. Can you draw fairies and animals?” “Supposing I try?” “Yes, do. Draw some in my book.” The easel picture was covered up and abandoned for the time being. The two stools were placed side by side, and the two heads, the auburn and the black, came very close together. “I’ll draw Mr. Puck.” “Yes, Mr. Puck.” “Mr. Puck is all round—round head, round eyes, round mouth.” “What a funny little round tummy you have given him!” “You see, he’s rather greedy. Now we’ll draw Mr. Bruin.” “Daddy made such funny rhymes about Mr. Bruin. Give him a top-hat. Isn’t that sweet? But what’s he doing—sucking his fingers?” “He has been stealing honey, and he’s licking his paws.” “Now—now draw something out of the Bible.” “The Bible?” “Yes. Draw God making Eve.” “That would take rather a long time.”