reprovingly, "if you are not clever. I suppose you are, though. Tell
the truth, now."

"It is not fair to force a fellow into praising himself."

"You are trying to creep out!"

"Well, then, there are many cleverer persons than I in the world,
and a few not so clever."

"That won't do," said Margaret positively.

"I don't understand what you mean by cleverness, Miss Margaret.
There are a great many kinds and degrees. I can make fairly honest
patterns for the men to work by; but I am not an artist, if you mean
that."

"You are not an artist?"

"No; an artist creates, and I only copy, and that in a small way.
Any one can learn to prepare casts; but to create a bust or a
statue--that is to say, a fine one--a man must have genius."

"You have no genius?"

"Not a grain."

"I am sorry to hear that," said Margaret, with a disappointed
look. "But perhaps it will come," she added encouragingly. "I have
read that nearly all great artists and poets are almost always