"Yes, my dear; it was the only way to arrive at the truth." "And to look it straight in the face. I kept to the main road, but if a view of a narrow lane had presented itself, I believe I should have been tempted to wander a little. My dear, I paid all the accounts, and I was left with--how much do you think?" "I am afraid to guess, Kingsley." "Something under ten pounds. Was I dashed? Did I despair? Not at all. Said I to myself, said I--by the way, Nansie, I once came across an old novel with just that title; an odd one, isn't it?--said I to myself, said I, to work, to work! Something must be done, for my dear Nansie's sake." "How proud I am of you, Kingsley!" "Thank you, dear. So what did I do? I can sketch a little in colors, you know." "You can paint very well, Kingsley. When you said, the other night, that you saw pictures but could not paint them, I knew you were wrong, though I did not contradict you." "Thank you again, dear. Nothing would please me better than to be a poor artist, with you, rich and influential, for my patron." "I should give you every shilling I possessed, Kingsley." "And you call yourself practical. Nonsense, nonsense! It is I who am the practical one. I proved it. I bought watercolors, drawing-paper, pencils, brushes, a nice little outfit for thirty-eight shillings, and, Nansie, I set to work. Upon my honor, I painted a picture which I considered not bad." "What did you do with it? You have brought it with you?" "No, my dear little wife, I sold it." "Why, Kingsley," said Nansie, in a delighted tone, "you have actually already made a start." "I have," said Kingsley, laughing heartily. "The picture painted, I took it out to the shops. My dear, they rather pooh-poohed it at first." "They ought to have been ashamed of themselves," exclaimed Nansie, indignantly. "They weren't. But I met with a patron at last. He was a stationer, and said the picture was of no use to him. 'But it's worth something,' I said. To be honest with you, Nansie, I was getting rather disgusted with the whole affair. 'It's worth something,' I said. 'Two-pence,' said the shop-keeper. 'Done,' said I, and I threw the picture on the counter, and held out my hand. He stared at me, but I gave him to understand that he had offered me two-pence for my picture, and that I accepted it. He stared harder than ever and handed me the two-pence. It is the first money I ever earned in my life, and I have brought it home to you. The experiment was a capital one, Nansie; it taught me something--that I am not cut out for a painter. Next to discovering what you can do, the best thing is to discover what you can't do. Having discovered it, turn the key on it." Nansie gazed at him sadly. He was speaking with animation, and there was an excited flush in his face. His eyes were bright, and his manner was indicative of anything but disappointment.