uld be too terrible," said she. "But I must go now. Will you
lend me this picture for a little? I'd like to look at it again."

Roger laughed.

"Oh yes, if you'll promise not to fall in love with him for good."

When Roger presented himself at the appointed hour in his cousin's
studio, he found that young lady very much in earnest and not at all
disposed to regard her new functions as a jest. Roger, who had come
expecting to be amused, found himself ignominiously set down at a table
beside the amenable Tom (who had been coerced into joining the class)
and directed to copy a very elementary representation of a gable of a
cottage which the instructress had set up on the easel. Six times was
he compelled to tackle this simple object before his copy was pronounced
passable; and until that Rosalind sternly discouraged all conversation
or inattention.

"Really, Roger," said she, when at last he meekly submitted his final
copy, "for a boy of your age you are an uncommonly rough hand. Tom is a
much more promising pupil than you."

"I haven't promised you a bob an hour, though," rejoined that not-to-be-
flattered genius, beginning to whistle.

"Silence, sir!" said Miss Rosalind, stamping her little foot with
something like temper; "as long as you are in my class you must do as I
tell you."

Here Roger protested.

"You're rather strict," said he. "I don't mind working hard and
attending to all you say, but I vote we enjoy ourselves too--all three
of us."

"You mean," said Rosalind petulantly, "that you come here to play, while
I try to work."

"No, I don't. I come to do both, and I want you to, as well."

"Very well then, I withdraw from my engagement," said the young lady,
with an ominous flush; "we don't agree about art. Unless you can give
yourself up to it while you are about it, it's not meant for you--and--
and I'm very sorry indeed I made such a stupid mistake as to think you
meant what you said when you told me you wanted to learn."

And she took the copy down from the easel.

"Look here, Rosalind," said Roger, in unusual perturbation, "I'm so
sorry. You're quite right. Of course one can't do two things at once.
I'll--"

"You're a dear boy, as I've said before," said Miss Oliphant,
brightening up suddenly and accepting her victory serenely. "Now please
both of you draw the picture again from memory as exactly as you can."

"What's the long and short of it all?" presently whispered Tom, who h