Part 22 (2/2)
”You are fond of the sea, then?”
”Oh, yes, indeed, I love just to sit and look at it. It's very interesting to look at things, don't you think so?”
”Well, yes, I suppose it is, though I can't say I have ever thought very much on the subject.”
”Well, you see, it's rather different with me,” Jack explained in his odd, old-fas.h.i.+oned way, ”because until this summer I never saw many things. I hardly ever went out, and you know one can't see very much from back windows, especially when one lives on the top floor.”
”I should not imagine the view could have been very interesting,” said Lord Carresford, smiling; ”but how did it happen that you so seldom went out?”
”Why, you see, I was too heavy to carry, and of course we couldn't afford to have a carriage. I did go in a carriage once, though; I saw Central Park.” And Jack launched forth into a description of Winifred's invitation, and his birthday treat. Lord Carresford began to look really interested.
”And how did you amuse yourself all day in the house?” he inquired, rather curiously, when Jack had finished his story.
”Oh, I got on very well. I read a good deal, and drew pictures, and then Betty was always there, and mother came home in the afternoons. You never heard my mother play on the piano, did you?”
”No, I have never had the pleasure of meeting your mother.”
”I think she plays better than any one else in the world,” said Jack simply. ”She used to play for me every evening, because she knew I loved it, though sometimes she was dreadfully tired. Oh, I had very good times, though of course it is much nicer here.”
”Did you say you drew pictures?” Lord Carresford asked.
”Yes, I like to draw better than almost anything else, but I don't suppose I do it at all right. I've been making a picture this afternoon.”
”May I look at it? I am very much interested in pictures.”
Jack produced a folded paper from his pocket, which he handed to Lord Carresford.
”I was going to take it home to mother,” he explained; ”she likes to keep all my pictures.”
Lord Carresford unfolded the paper, and glanced, at first rather carelessly, at the rough little sketch. Then suddenly his expression changed, and when he again turned to the little boy there was a new interest in his manner.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”It is very good,” said Lord Carresford.--_Page 189_.]
”Who taught you to draw?” he asked rather abruptly.
”No one,” said Jack; ”I just did it. My father was an artist, and mother thinks that may be the reason why I can do it. Please, sir, would you mind telling me if it's very bad?”
”It is very good,” said Lord Carresford heartily; ”remarkably good for a boy of your age. You will be an artist when you grow up, or I am much mistaken.”
Jack's face was radiant.
”Do you really think so?” he asked breathlessly. ”Oh, I'm so glad. I should like so very, very much to be an artist.”
”Why are you so anxious on the subject?” Lord Carresford asked, with a kindly glance at the flushed, eager little face.
”I think it's partly because my father was one, but mostly because I want to make money,” said Jack.
”You want to make money, eh? and what will you do with the money when it is made?”
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