Part 14 (1/2)

She said something of this kind one evening after Jesse had gone, and she saw by the bright look in Ferdy's face that he understood what she meant, better even than Mr. Brock himself did perhaps.

”It sounds all very nice, miss,” said the wood-carver, ”but I doubt if there's any good to be done in that sort of way unless when there's real talent such as I feel sure this Piggot lad has. The run of those rough folk have no idea beyond loafing about in their idle hours; and, after all, if they're pretty sober--and some few are that--what can one expect? The taste isn't in them, and if it's not there, you can't put it.”

Eva hesitated.

”Are you so sure of that?” she said doubtfully.

”Well, miss, it looks like it. With Jesse now, there was no encouragement--it came out because it was there.”

”Yes, but I think Jesse is an exception. He _has_ unusual talent, and in a case like his I daresay it will come to his choosing a line of his own altogether. But even for those who have no talent, and to begin with, even no taste, I do think _something_ might be done,” she said.

”Thomas has taken to making whistles,” said Ferdy, ”ever since he saw Jesse's. He can't carve a bit--not prettily, I mean--but he cuts out letters rather nicely, and he's been giving everybody presents of whistles with their--'relitions' on.”

”_Initials_ you mean, dear,” said Miss Lilly.

”_Initials_,” repeated Ferdy, getting rather pink.

”Ah,” said the wood-carver with a smile, ”you can't quite take Thomas as an example, my boy. Why, compared to many of the even well-to-do people about, his whole life is 'a thing of beauty.' Look at the rooms he lives in, the gardens, the ladies he sees. And as for those Draymoor folk, they'd rather have the bar of an inn than the finest picture gallery in the world. No, miss, with all respect, you 'can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.'”

Ferdy laughed. He had never heard the quaint old saying before, and as it was time for Mr. Brock to go, no more was said.

But both Miss Lilly and Ferdy had their own thoughts and kept their own opinion.

Ferdy's own work made him very happy, and of its kind it was very nice.

His little mind was full of sweet and pretty fancies, but these, of course, for such a mere child as he was, and especially as he could not sit up to do his carving, it was very difficult to put into actual shape.

But his happy cheeriness kept him from being discouraged.

”I shall never be as clever as Jesse,” he told Miss Lilly and Christine, ”but I don't mind. P'r'aps when we're big I'll _think_ of things for Jesse to _do_.”

”You can't tell yet what you may be able to do when you're big,” said his governess. ”I think it is wonderful to see all you can do already.

Those animals for the poor little children at the hospital are beautiful, Ferdy.”

”They're _toys_,” said Ferdy with some contempt, ”only,” more cheerfully, ”I'm very glad if they'll please the poor little children.

But oh, Miss Lilly dear, if I could make you see the beautiful things I _think_! The prettiest of all always comes something like the oriel window--like an oriel window in fairyland.”

”Was there a window like that in the house the little fairy had to build, do you think, Miss Lilly?” asked Christine.

”No, of course not,” said Ferdy, before his governess had time to answer. ”My thinked window isn't built, it's cut out; it's all beautiful flowers and leaves, like the real window in summer, only far, far prettier. And there are birds' nests, with them _almost_ flying, they are so light and feathery looking, and--” he stopped, and lay back with his eyes closed and a dreamy smile on his face.

”When you are older,” said Miss Lilly, ”I hope you will travel a good deal and go to see some of the wonderful carvings there are in Italy and Germany, and indeed in England too. Not only wood-carving, but sculpture. Fancy, _stone_ worked so as to look as if a breath of air would make it quiver!”

She spoke perhaps a little thoughtlessly, and in an instant she felt that she had done so, for Ferdy opened his big blue eyes and gazed up at her with a strange wistful expression.

”Miss Lilly dear,” he said, ”you mustn't count on my doing anything like that--travelling, I mean, or things well people can do. P'r'aps, you know, I'll be all my life like this.”

Eva turned her head aside. She did not want either Ferdy or his sister to see that his quaint words made her feel very sad--that, indeed, they brought the tears very near her eyes.

And in a minute or two Ferdy seemed to have forgotten his own sad warning. He was laughing with Christine at the comical expression of a pigling which he had mounted on the back of a rather eccentric-looking donkey--it was his first donkey, and he had found it more difficult than old Jerrys.

That evening a pleasant and very unexpected thing happened.