lessons were soon done, and then time used to hang heavily on his
hands.

At last the grand idea came to me to set him to copy Scripture maps,
and draw small illustrations of any Biblical scene that occurred in
the lesson of the day. I have a book full of his childish fancies
now, all elaborately colored on week-days--"Joseph and his Brethren"
in gaudy turbans, and wonderfully inexpressive countenances,
reminding me of Flurry's dolls; the queen of Sheba, coming before
Solomon, in a marvelous green tiara and yellow garments; a headless
Goliath, expressed with a painful degree of detail, more fit for the
Wirtz Gallery than a child's scrap-book.

Dot used frequently to write letters to Allan, to which I often
added copious postscripts. I never could coax Dot to write to Fred,
though Fred sent him plenty of kind messages, and many a choice
little parcel of scraps and odds and ends, such as Dot liked.

Fred was getting on tolerably, he always told us. He had rooms in
St. John's Wood, which he shared with two other artists; he was
working hard, and had some copying orders. Allan saw little of him;
they had no friends in common, and no community of taste. Never were
brothers less alike or with less sympathy.




CHAPTER X.

"I WISH I HAD A DOT OF MY OWN."