'I think it must have been nightmare I had last night, Polly,' I said as
I finished my breakfast, and began to put all in order for my morning's
work.





[Illustration]




Chapter VII

OVER THE LINE


I was at my painting early the next morning, for the sun was shining
brightly, and the air was wonderfully clear. My portrait of little Jack
sitting in the boat promised to be a great success. As I was hard at
work upon it that day, I heard a voice behind me.

'I never thought my little lad would figure in the Royal Academy,' said
the voice.

It was the voice of Jack's father--the voice which had moved me so
deeply, the voice which had made me tremble, only the day before. Even
as he spoke I felt inclined to run away, lest he should ask me again