er let Malachi touch itnot Max at all； but a fresh； rosy… cheeked young fellow of twenty…two； who came bounding in with a laugh； tossing his hat to Malachi a well…knit； muscular young fellow； with a mouth full of white teeth and a broad brow projecting over two steel…blue eyes that were snapping with fun。
With his coming the quiet of the place departed and a certain breezy atmosphere permeated the room as if a gust of cool wind had followed him。 With him； too； came a hearty； whole…souled joyousness a joyousness of so sparkling and so radiant a kind that it seemed as if all the sunshine he had breathed for twenty years in Kennedy Square had somehow been stored away in his boyish veins。
〃Oh； here you are； you dear Miss Lavinia；〃 he cried out； his breath half gone from his dash across the Square。 〃How did you get here first？〃
〃On my two feet； you stupid Oliver；〃 cried Miss Lavinia； shaking her curls at him。 〃Did you think somebody carried me？〃
〃No； I didn't； but that wouldn't be much to carry； Miss Midget。〃 His pet name for her。 〃But which way did you come？ I looked up and down every path and〃
〃And went all the way round by Sue Clayton's to find me； didn't you？ Oh； you can't throw dust in the Midget's eyes； you young rascal！〃 and she stretched up her two dainty hands； drew his face toward her； and kissed him on the lips。
〃There〃 and she patted his cheek 〃now tell me all about it； you dear Ollie。 What did you want to see me for？〃 she added with one of those quick divinations that made her so helpful a confidante。 Then； in a lowered voice 〃What has Sue done？〃
〃Nothingnot one thing。 She isn't bothering her head about me。 I only stopped there to leave a book； and〃
Mrs。 Horn； with laughing； inquiring eyes； looked up from her chair at Miss Clendenning； and made a little doubting sound with her lips。 Black…eyed Sue Clayton； with her curls down her back； home from boarding…school for the Easter holidays； was Oliver's latest flame。 His mother loved to tease him about his love…affairs； and always liked him to have a new one。 She could see farther into his heart she thought when the face of some sweet girl lay mirrored in its depths。
Oliver heard the doubting sound his mother made； and； reaching over her chair； flung his arms about her neck and kissed her as if she had been a girl。
〃Now； don't you laugh； you dear old motherkins；〃 he cried； drawing her nearer to him until her face touched his。 〃Sue don't care a thing about me； and I did promise her the book； and I ran every step of the way to give it to herdidn't I； Uncle Nat？〃 he added； gayly； hoping to divert the topic。 〃You were behind the sun…dial when I passeddon't you remember？〃 He shrank a little from the badinage。
The old musician heard the question； but only waved his flute behind him in answer。 He did not even lift his head from beside Richard's at the score。
Oliver waited an instant； and getting no further reply； released his hold about his mother's neck； now that he had kissed her into silence； and turned to Miss Clendenning again。
〃Come； Miss Laviniacome into the library。 I've something very important to talk to you about。 Really； now； no nonsense about it！ You've plenty of timeold Max won't be here for an hour； he's always late； isn't he； mother？〃
Miss Clendenning turned quietly； lifted her eyes in a martyr…like way toward Mrs。 Horn； who shook her head playfully in answer； and with Oliver's arm about her entered the library。 She could never refuse any one of the young people when they came to her with their secretsmost important and never… to…be…postponed secrets； of course； that could hardly wait the telling。 Her little tea…room across the Square； with its red damask curtains； its shiny brass andirons； easy…chairs and lounges； was really more of a confessional than a boudoir。 Many a sorrow had been drowned in the cups of tea that she had served with her own hand in egg…shell Spode cups； and many a young girl and youth who had entered its cosey interior with heavy hearts had left it with the sunshine of a new hope breaking through their tears。 But then everybody knew the bigness of Miss Clendenning's sympathies。 It was one of the things for which they loved her。
She； of course； knew what the boy wanted now。 If it were not to talk about Sue Clayton it was sure to be about some one of the other girls。 The young people thought of nothing else but their love…affairs； and talked of nothing else； and the old people loved to live their youth over again in listening。 It was one of the traditional customs of Kennedy Square。
Miss Clendenning settled herself in a corner of the carved haircloth sofa； touched her side…combs with her finger to see that they were in place； tucked a red cushion behind her back； crossed her two little feet on a low stool； the two toes peeping out like the heads of two mice； and taking Oliver's hand in hers said； in her sweet； coaxing voice：
〃Now； you dear boy； it is Sue； isn't it？〃
〃No！〃
〃Not Sue？ Who then？〃
〃Mr。 Crocker。〃
〃What Mr。 Crocker？〃 She arched her eyebrows and looked at him in surprise。 The name came as a shock。 She knew of Mr。 Crocker； of course； but she wanted Oliver to describe him。 Surely； she thought； with a sudden sense of alarm； the boy has not fallen in love with the daughter of that shabby old man。
〃Why； the landscape…painterthe one father knows。 I have been taking drawing lessons of him and he says I've got a lot of talent and that all I want is practice。 He says that if I begin now and draw from the cast three or four hours a day that by the end of the year I can begin in color； and then I can go to New York and study； and then to Paris。〃
The little lady scrutinized him from under her eyelids。 The boy's enthusiasm always delighted her； she would often forget what he was talking about； so interested was she in following his gestures as he spoke。
〃And what then？〃
〃Why then I can be a painter； of course。 Isn't that a great deal better than sitting every day in Judge Ellicott's dingy office reading law…books？ I hate the law！〃
〃And you love Mr。 Crocker？〃
〃Yes； don't you？〃
〃I don't know him； Ollie。 Tell me what he is like。〃
〃Well； he isn't young any more。 He's about father's age； but he's a splendid old man； and he's so poor！ Nobody buys his pictures； nor appreciates him； and； just think； he has to paint portraits and dogs and anything he can get to do。 Don't you think that's a shame？ Nobody goes to see him but father and Uncle Nat and one or two others。 They don't seem to think him a gentleman。〃 He was putting the case so as to enlist all her sympathies at once。
〃He has a daughter； hasn't he？〃 She was probing him quietly and without haste。 Time enough for her sympathies to work when she got at the facts。
〃Yes； but I don't like her very much； for I don't think she's very good to him。〃 Miss Clendenning smothered a little sigh of relief； there was no danger； thank Heaven； in that direction！ What； then； could he want； she thought to herself。
〃And he's so different from anybody I ever met；〃 Oliver continued。 〃He doesn't talk about horses and duck…shooting and politics； or music or cards like everyone you meet； except Daddy； but he talks about pictures and artists and great men。 Just think； he was a young student in Dusseldorf for two years； and then he shouldered a knapsack and tramped all through Switzerland； painting as he went； and often paying for his lodgings with his sketches。 Then he was in Paris for ever so long； and now he is here； where〃
〃Where you tell me he is painting dogs for a living；〃 interrupted Miss Clendenning。 〃Do you think； you young scapegrace； that this would be better than being a lawyer like Judge Ellicott？〃 and she turned upon him with one of her quick outbursts of mock indignation。
〃But I'm not going to paint dogs；〃 he replied； with some impatience。 〃I am going to paint women； like the Sir Peter Lely that Uncle John Tilghman has。 Oh； she's a beauty！ I took Mr。 Crocker to see her the other day。 It had just been brought in from the country； you know。 You should have heard him go on。 He says there's nobody who can paint a portrait like it nowadays。 He raved about her。 You know it is Uncle John Tilghman's grandmother when she was a girl。〃 His voice suddenly dropped to a more serious tone as he imparted this last bit of information。
Miss Clendenning knew whose grandmother it was； and knew and loved every tone in the canvas。 It had hung in the Tilghman Manor…House for years and was one of its most precious treasures； but she did not intend to stop and discuss it now。
〃Mr。 Crocker wants me to copy it just as soon as I draw a little better。 Uncle John will let me； I know。〃
Miss Clendenning tapped her foot in a noiseless tattoo upon the stool； and for a time looked off into space。 She wanted to draw him out； to know from what depth this particular enthusiasm had sprung。 She was accustomed to his exuberance of spirits； it was one of the many things she loved him for。 If this new craze were but an idle fancy； and he had had many of them； it would wear itself out； and the longer they talked about it the better。 If； however； it sprang from an inborn taste； and was the first indication of a hitherto undeveloped talent forcing itself to the surface； the situation was one demanding the greatest caution。 Twigs like Oliver bent at the wrong time might never straighten out again。
〃And why did you come to me about this； Ollie； why don't you talk to your father？〃
〃I have。 He doesn't object。 He says that Mr。 Crocker is one of the rare men of the time； and that only inexperience among the people here prevents him from being appreciated。 That's what he goes to see him for。 It isn't father that worries me； it's mother。 I know just whet she'll say。 She's got her heart set on my studying law； and she won't listen to anything else。 I wouldn't object to the law if I cared for it； but I don't。 That's what makes it come so hard。〃
〃And you want me to speak to your mother？〃
〃Yes； of course。 That's just what I DO want you to do。 Nobody can help me but you；〃 he cried with that coaxing manner which would have seemed effeminate until one looked at his well…built； muscular body and the firm lines about his mouth。 〃You tell her of all the painter