Part 20 (1/2)
”I reckon it belonged to old Mr. Ledbury, then?”
”No doubt, though I can't say where he got it from. What do you want to know for?”
”I don't want to know. It's no business of mine.”
Katrine's sketch was greatly admired by the girls at Aireyholme, but Miss Aubrey, in her capacity of art teacher, criticized it sternly. To rectify the faults thus pointed out, Katrine toiled very hard, and completely repainted the two figures. Granny Blundell was a patient model, and (as the sittings resulted in s.h.i.+llings) expressed her willingness to pose any time for the school. Several of the other girls sketched her at the life cla.s.s, though none of their efforts were as successful as Katrine's. Noticing the old woman's interest in the progress of the portrait, Gwethyn made her a present of the oil-sketch she had just finished. Her gift was hardly as well received as she had antic.i.p.ated.
”The old body scarcely said 'Thank you!'” complained Gwethyn, much aggrieved.
”Perhaps she doesn't think it flatters her; it's one of the worst daubs you've ever perpetrated!” laughed Katrine.
”Oh! I should hardly imagine her an art critic! Besides, she's so very plain, in any case. No picture in the world could make her look handsome.”
Though Mrs. Blundell might not be the belle of the village, a little vanity lingered nevertheless under her striped sun-bonnet. Katrine happened to visit her cottage alone next day, and found her in a state of much discontent over her likeness. She plainly did not consider that it did her justice.
”It makes me look all speckly!” she remonstrated. ”And I'm not speckly, am I, now? I was thinkin' of askin' her to touch it up a bit. I wouldn't mind payin' her a trifle, if she don't want to charge too much for her time. I was that set on sendin' it to my gran'darter at Chiplow, but I'd be 'shamed to let her think I'd a face like a dough dumplin' stuck wi'
currants.”
Fearing it would be impossible to idealize the portrait to the sitter's satisfaction, Katrine solved the problem by taking a snapshot of her standing in the doorway with her favourite cat in her arms; and though the photo did not flatter her, it presented her with a smooth countenance, at any rate. It apparently satisfied her craving for immortalization, and preserved a remembrance also of her pet, who unfortunately met with an untimely fate soon afterwards. Mrs. Blundell had lamented the disappearance of p.u.s.s.y for some days; then one afternoon when Katrine arrived with her easel, she discovered the good dame in the garden, busily engaged in was.h.i.+ng her pans and kettles.
”Why, what a turn-out!” exclaimed Katrine. ”Is it a spring cleaning or a removal?”
”Oh, miss,” returned Mrs. Blundell, ”I've just found the pore cat drownded in the well! I drew her up myself in the bucket, and it gave I such a shock I went all of a tremble. She must have been there the whole time, and somehow now I can't quite fancy the water.”
”I should think not!” exclaimed Katrine, horrified at the idea.
”I sometimes wish I lived in a town, with water laid on, and gas-lamps in the streets,” continued Mrs. Blundell. ”I can't think what you see to paint in these old cottages. The creepers lovely? Why, they helps to make 'em damp! They don't be fit for decent folks to live in. They did ought all to be pulled down.”
Poor Mrs. Blundell evidently held strong views on the deficiencies of her residence, to judge from a conversation which Miss Aubrey and Katrine heard wafted through the door as they sat sketching in her cabbage-patch. The minister appeared to be paying her a visit, and was trying to count up her blessings for her--a form of consolation which, from her tart replies, she keenly resented.
”You've got a roof over your head,” he urged.
”The rain comes through in the corner,” she sniffed. ”It don't be right as I should be in this place, and some in such comfort! Folks as live soft here didn't ought to go to Heaven!”
”But wealthy people can live good lives as well as poor ones,” objected Mr. Chadwick, the minister.
”Easy enough for 'em, when they've all they want; but it don't be fair!
They be gettin' it at both ends,” she answered bitterly.
”Doth Job serve G.o.d for nought?” quoted Miss Aubrey, as they listened to the querulous old voice. ”I quite grasp her point, poor old soul! I dare say it's much easier to watch the wicked flouris.h.i.+ng like a green bay tree, and antic.i.p.ate his retribution, than to see the righteous in such prosperity, and think he's skimming the cream off both worlds. I admire Mr. Chadwick's patience. I think he'll talk her into a better frame of mind before he leaves her.”
Whatever her notions might be on the subject of future rewards or punishments, Granny Blundell made a picturesque model, and that for the present was Katrine's main concern. She finished both figures and background, then left the canvas to dry, so that she might add some last high lights. Would it ever hang in an exhibition? she asked herself. She had not yet dared to broach the subject to Mr. Freeman.
She looked at it often, hopefully and wistfully. At present it was the focus round which her dreams centred, a matter of the utmost importance.
The rest of the girls would have laughed at her had they realized her ambition in connection with it; yet, after all--so strangely do things happen in this life--the painting of this very amateur sketch was a link in a chain of circ.u.mstances, and if it did not bring artistic success to herself, was to lead to wider issues in other respects than she could imagine.
CHAPTER XIII