of his friend. He arranged when Mr. Pemberton should come and
view Rose's picture to suit Rose's convenience, and not that of the
famous and courted artist. Then he explained in all sincerity, before he
took his leave, that he, Tom Robinson, was very sorry he could not have
the pleasure of bringing Pemberton and introducing him personally,
because a business engagement called the master of "Robinson's" back to
Redcross early next morning.

The party he left were quite silent and still for a moment after he had
gone, till what she had heard of Mr. Pemberton went to Rose's head to
such a degree that she rose, whirled round on tiptoe, and caused her
spread-out frock to perform the feat which children call "making a
cheese."

"Won't it be delicious to know Mr. Pemberton and get his advice--perhaps
one day presume to ask him how he does his hay-fields and orchards? What
will Hester Jennings say! I say, we'll have Hester to meet him; she will
come for such a painter though the whole peerage would not get her to
budge an inch. I wish we could tone her down a little bit, but he must
just swallow her whole. She is good and clever enough to be permitted
that rugged line of her own. Oh! but isn't Tom Robinson a trump? I
_will_ be slangy, Annie--as May says, it is so expressive."

"Yes, yes," chimed in May enthusiastically, in reference to the man and
not to the slang. "I have known it ever since he came up like a
lion--why do you laugh, Rose?--and rescued Tray--don't you remember,
Dora?--from that horrid brute of a collie. Tray bit him--Mr. Robinson, I
mean--not knowing that he was his best friend, and he only laughed. He
was so kind about my wishing to go into his shop, like Phyllis Carey,
though he would not take me. I think it must be a privilege, as Miss
Franklin tells Phyllis, to serve him. She says all the nice people in
the shop have the greatest regard for him."

"I am so sorry and ashamed that I ever drew caricatures of him," said
Rose, in pensive penitence. "I think, whenever I am able, I must paint
his portrait, as I see him now, to make up for it."

"And ask him to have it hung above the oak staircase in the shop,"
suggested Annie, a little satirically. But she added immediately,
"Though it broke no bones to dwell on his lack of height and his foxy
complexion, I am rather sorry now that I did it, because I have ceased
to think that these objectionable details deserved to be made of any
consequence. On the contrar