"Do? He didn't do anything."

"Then," pronounced the Bonnie Lassie, "he's a stick of
wood--hardwood--with a knot-hole for a heart."

"He isn't! Well, perhaps he is. He was very horrid at the last."

"About what?"

"About taking money."

"I'm a prophetess! And you're a patroness. Born in us, I suppose. You
_did_ try to give him money."

"Just to loan it. Enough so that he could go away to study and paint. He
wouldn't even let me do that; so I--I--I offered to buy the picture of
me, and he said--he said--Cecily, do you think he's sometimes a little
queer in his head?"

"Not in the head, necessarily. _What_ did he say?"

"He said he'd bought it himself at the highest price ever paid. And he
said it so obstinately that I saw it was no use, so I just told him that
I hoped I'd see him when I came back--"

"Back from where? Are you going away?"

"Yes; didn't I tell you? On a three months' cruise."