or act?" he asked.

"I don't know, of course," sighed Billy. "But I know what I'd like to
do. I should like to go out and--fight somebody!"

So fierce were words and manner, coupled as they were with a pair of
gentle eyes ablaze and two soft little hands doubled into menacing
fists, that Bertram laughed.

"What a fiery little champion it is, to be sure," he said tenderly. "But
as if fighting could do any good--in this case!"

Billy's tense muscles relaxed. Her eyes filled with tears.

"No, I don't suppose it would," she choked, beginning to cry, so that
Bertram had to turn comforter.

"Come, come, dear," he begged; "don't take it so to heart. It's not
so bad, after all. I've still my good right hand left, and we'll hope
there's something in it yet--that'll be worth while."

"But _this_ one isn't bad," stormed Billy. "It's splendid! I'm sure, I
think it's a b-beautiful portrait, and I don't see _what_ people mean by
talking so about it!"

Bertram shook his head. His eyes grew sombre again.

"Thank you, dear. But I know--and you know, really--that it isn't a
splendid portrait. I've done lots better work than that."

"Then why don't they look at those, and let this alone?" wailed Billy,
with indignation.

"Because I deliberately put up this for them to see," smiled the artist,
wearily.

Billy sighed, and twisted in her chair.

"What does--Mr. Winthrop say?" she asked at last, in a faint voice.

Bertram lifted his head.

"Mr. Winthrop's been a trump all through, dear. He's already insisted on
paying for this--and he's ordered another."

"Another!"

"Yes. The old fellow never minces his words, as you may know. He came
to me one day, put his hand on my shoulder, and said tersely: 'Will you
give me another, same terms? Go in, boy, and win. Show 'em! I lost
the first ten thousand I made. I didn't the next!' That's all he said.
Before I could even choke out an answer he was gone. Gorry! talk about
his having a 'heart of stone'! I don't believe another man in the
country would have done that--and done it in the way he did--in the face
of all this talk," finished Bertram, his eyes luminous with feeling.

Billy hesitated.

"Perhaps--his daughter--influenced him--some."

"Perhaps," nodded Bertram. "She, too, has been very kind, all the way
through."

Billy hesitated again.

"But I thought--it was going so splendidly," she faltered, in a
half-stifled voice.

"So it was--at the first."

"Then what--ail