“Oh, no; in New York. What little I know I have learned here in New York.” “Why, I thought every body had to study abroad--at Paris or Munich or Düsseldorf.” “They don't exactly _have_ to. You can get very good instruction here. Stainar is a capital master; and there are others. Of course, it's desirable to study abroad, too. But I couldn't very well. I have never been further than fifty or a hundred miles from this city in my life.” “Why, how strange! I haven't either. But then, I'm a girl. You're a man. I should think you would have traveled.” “It was on account of my mother. She was a great stay-at-home; and I never felt like leaving her. Since her death--two years ago--I haven't had any wish to travel. I haven't had the heart for it.” After a little pause, Christine asked softly, “Have you any brothers or sisters?” “No, none. And my father died when I was a baby. So, except for me, my mother was quite alone. To be sure, she had my uncle, the rabbi; but he's not much company.” “Oh, have you an uncle who is a rabbi?” “Yes--Dr. Gedaza, of the Congregation Gates of Pearl, in Seventeenth Street.” “How interesting! Tell me, what is he like?” “Why, I don't know. How do you mean?” “What does he look like? And his character?” “Well, he's a little old gentleman, a widower. He wears spectacles, and he's got a bald head. He knows an' awful lot of theology, but in point of worldly wisdom he's as deficient as a child. Sometimes he's fairly good-natured, sometimes very severe. Generally he's absent-minded--up in the clouds.” “Has he a long white beard?” “He has a beard; but it's neither long nor white. It's short and black--though there may be a few white hairs scattered through it. There ought to be, considering his age. He's--Let me see. He's ten years older than my mother; and she was thirty years older than I. That would make him sixty-six.” “I have never seen a rabbi; but I always thought they had long white beards, and wore gowns, and looked mysterious and awe-inspiring, like astrologers or alchemists.” “There's nothing mysterious about my uncle,” said Elias, laughing, “unless it be his prodigious learning; and nothing awe-inspiring, except his temper. That's pretty quick. He wears an ordinary black coat and white cravat, like a Protestant minister's. You'd take him for a Protestant minister if you should pass him in the street.” “And he isn't at all patriarchal or picturesque?” “Alas, no; not that I have been able to discover.” “Oh, dear; how disappointing!” After another little pause, Christine said: “I haven't any brothers or sisters, either; and my mother died when I was three years old; and my father is a great home-body, too. Isn't it strange that our lives should have been so much alike? Only, you're a man and an artist; and I'm a girl and have nothing to do but to keep house. I wish I loved housekeeping as you do painting. But I don't; I hate it.”