ok the precaution, however, to
change the subject; to one which she often chose, indeed, for the sake
of the animation it brought into the pretty face of her model.
Eleanor's "repose" sometimes bothered her.

"What shall you do the first day in Paris?" Madge asked.

"I shall write to you."

"Good gracious! You won't write to me before you have seen the
Louvre!"

"I shall write to you the very first minute. And then I shall write
again that same evening, and tell you whether there really is a
Louvre! If there shouldn't be one, you know, I shouldn't feel so like
a pig in being there without you!"

"You needn't feel like a pig, as far as that goes," said Madge. "I
couldn't have gone to Paris if I had won the prize."

"Why not?"

"Well, I had it out with Father this morning. He says it's not a mere
matter of money; that if he and Mother thought well of my going, they
could manage it."

"O Madge! Can't you make them think well of it?"

"I'm afraid not. Father never did really believe in my going in for
art, and I think he believes in it less now than he ever did. He says
I've been at it for three years, and I haven't painted a pretty
picture yet. And he says he doesn't see what good it's going to do me
in after-life; that if I marry I sha'n't keep it up, and there
wouldn't be any good in my trying to;--which is, of course a mistake,
only I can't make him believe that it is,--and he says that if I don't
marry, I've got to earn my living sooner or later."

"Why, but that's just it, Madge! You're going to be able to earn your
living! You're sure to!"

But Madge was again engrossed in her work. The afternoon would soon
draw to a close, and if she wished to carry out her designs upon that
ear it behooved her to stop talking. Though her little picture was an
oval of three inches by four, it had cost her more strokes than any
canvas of ten times the size had ever done. And Eleanor was to sail in
a fortnight!

At last the light began to fade, and Madge knew that she must stop.

"What do you suppose Father said to me this morning?" she asked, as
she washed out her brushes and put her paint-box in order.

"I can't imagine."

"Well, he said that when any good judge thought my pictures worth
paying for in good hard cash, it would be time to think of sending me
'traipsing over the world with my paint-pot.' He said that if I would
come to him with a fifty-dollar bill of my own earning he should begin
to think there wa