Part 8 (1/2)
”There are other things. Girls work at many things in these days.”
”What kind of things?”
”They may learn to keep accounts, help in shops----”
”If father could afford it, couldn't I learn to do something more interesting? What do girls work at whose fathers can afford to let them learn how to work?”
”They may become teachers, learn stenography and typewriting; they can, of course, become dressmakers; they can nurse----”
”Mother!”
”Yes?”
”Could I choose the business of drawing pictures? I know how!”
”Dear, I don't believe it is practical to----”
”Couldn't I draw pictures for books and magazines? Everybody says I draw very nicely. You say so, too. Couldn't I earn enough money to live on and to take care of you and father?”
Wilbour Carew looked up from his reverie:
”To learn to draw correctly and with taste,” he said in his gentle, pedantic voice, ”requires a special training which we cannot afford to give you, Ruhannah.”
”Must I wait till I'm twenty-five before I can have my money?” she asked for the hundredth time. ”I do so need it to educate myself. Why did grandma do such a thing, mother?”
”Your grandmother never supposed you would need the money until you were a grown woman, dear. Your father and I were young, vigorous, full of energy; your father's income was ample for us then.”
”Have I got to marry a man before I can get enough money to take lessons in drawing with?”
Her mother's drawn smile was not very genuine. When a child asks such questions no mother finds it easy to smile.
”If you marry, dear, it is not likely you'll marry in order to take lessons in drawing. Twenty-five is not old. If you still desire to study art you will be able to do so.”
”Twenty-five!” repeated Rue, aghast. ”I'll be an old woman.”
”Many begin their life's work at an older age----”
”Mother! I'd rather marry somebody and begin to study art. Oh, _don't_ you think that even now I could support myself by making pictures for magazines? Don't you, mother dear?”
”Rue, as your father explained, a special course of instruction is necessary before one can become an artist----”
”But I _do_ draw very nicely!” She slipped from her chair, ran to the old secretary where the acc.u.mulated masterpieces of her brief career were treasured, and brought them for her parents' inspection, as she had brought them many times before.
Her father looked at them listlessly; he did not understand such things. Her mother took them one by one from Ruhannah's eager hands and examined these grimy Records of her daughter's childhood.
There were drawings of every description in pencil, in crayon, in mussy water-colours, done on sc.r.a.ps of paper of every shape and size.
The mother knew them all by heart, every single one, but she examined each with a devotion and an interest forever new.