be allowed to announce myself. You tomfool, you, why don't you
take that turban off?" Then Clara, with slow and graceful motion,
unwound the turban. If Dalrymple really meant what he had said and
would stick to it, she need not mind being called a tomfool by her
mother.

"Conway, I am afraid that our last sitting is disturbed," said Mrs
Broughton, with her little laugh.

"Conway's last sitting certainly is disturbed," said Mrs. Van Siever,
and then she mimicked the laugh. "And you'll all be disturbed,--I can
tell you that. What an ass you must be to go on with this kind of
thing, after what I said to you yesterday! Do you know that he got
beastly drunk in the City last night, and that he is drunk now, while
you are going on with your tomfooleries?" Upon hearing this, Mrs
Dobbs Broughton fainted into Dalrymple's arms.

Hitherto the artist had not said a word, and had hardly known what
part in it would best become him now to play. If he intended to marry
Clara,--and he certainly did intend to marry her if she would have
him,--it might be as well not to quarrel with Mrs. Van Siever. At any
rate there was nothing in Mrs. Van Siever's intrusion, disagreeable as
it was, which need make him take up his sword to do battle with her.
But now, as he held Mrs. Broughton in his arms, and as the horrid
words which the old woman had spoken rung in his ears, he could not
refrain himself form uttering reproach. "You ought not to have told
her in this way, before other people, even if it be true," said
Conway.

"Leave me to be my own judge of what I ought to do, if you please,
sir. If she had any feeling at all, what I told her yesterday would
have kept her from all this. But some people have no feeling, and
will go on being tomfools though the house is on fire." As these
words were spoken, Mrs. Broughton fainted more persistently than
ever,--so that Dalrymple was convinced that whether she felt or not,
at any rate she heard. He had now dragged her across the room, and
laid her upon the sofa, and Clara had come to her assistance. "I
daresay you think me very hard because I speak plainly, but there are
things much harder than plain speaking. How much do you expect to be
paid, sir, for this picture of my girl?"

"I do not expect to be paid for it at all," said Dalrymple.

"And who is it to belong to?"

"It belongs to me at present."

"Then, sir, it mustn't belong to you any longer. It won't do for you
to have a picture of my gi