But Charlie changed the subject skillfully by exclaiming with an anxious expression: "I do believe you are going to be like Aunt Jane, for that's just the way she comes down on me whenever she gets the chance! Don't take her for a model, I begshe is a good woman but a mighty disagreeable one in my humble opinion."The fear of being disagreeable is a great bugbear to a girl, as this artful young man well knew, and Rose fell into the trap at once, for Aunt Jane was far from being her model, though she could not help respecting her worth.
"Have you given up your painting?" she asked rather abruptly, turning to a gilded Fra Angelico angel which leaned in the sofa corner.
"Sweetest face I ever saw, and very like you about the eyes, isn't it?"said Charlie, who seemed to have a Yankee trick of replying to one question with another.
"I want an answer, not a compliment," and Rose tried to look severe as she put away the picture more quickly than she had taken it up.
"Have I given up painting? Oh, no! I daub a little in oils, slop a little in watercolors, sketch now and then, and poke about the studios when the artistic fit comes on.""How is the music?"
"More flourishing.I don't practice much, but sing a good deal in company.
Set up a guitar last summer and went troubadouring round in great style.
The girls like it, and it's jolly among the fellows.""Are you studying anything?"
"Well, I have some lawbooks on my tablegood, big, wise-looking chapsand I take a turn at them semioccasionally when pleasure palls or parents chide.But I doubt if I do more than learn what 'a allybi' is this year," and a sly laugh in Charlie's eye suggested that he sometimes availed himself of this bit of legal knowledge.
"What do you do then?"
"Fair catechist, I enjoy myself.Private theatricals have been the rage of late, and I have won such laurels that I seriously think of adopting the stage as my profession.""Really!" cried Rose, alarmed.
"Why not? If I must go to work, isn't that as good as anything?""Not without more talent than I think you possess.With genius one can do anythingwithout it one had better let the stage alone.""There's a quencher for the 'star of the goodlie companie' to which I belong.Mac hasn't a ray of genius for anything, yet you admire him for trying to be an M.D.," cried Charlie, rather nettled at her words.
"It is respectable, at all events, and I'd rather be a second-rate doctor than a second-rate actor.But I know you don't mean it, and only say so to frighten me.""Exactly.I always bring it up when anyone begins to lecture and it works wonders.Uncle Mac turns pale, the aunts hold up their hands in holy horror, and a general panic ensues.Then I magnanimously promise not to disgrace the family and in the first burst of gratitude the dear souls agree to everything I ask, so peace is restored and I go on my way rejoicing.""Just the way you used to threaten to run off to sea if your mother objected to any of your whims.You are not changed in that respect, though you are in others.You had great plans and projects once, Charlie, and now you seem to be contented with being a 'jack of all trades and master of none' ".
"Boyish nonsense! Time has brought wisdom, and I don't see the sense of tying myself down to one particular thing and grinding away at it year after year.People of one idea get so deucedly narrow and tame, I've no patience with them.Culture is the thing, and the sort one gets by ranging over a wide field is the easiest to acquire, the handiest to have, and the most successful in the end.At any rate, it is the kind I like and the only kind I intend to bother myself about."With this declaration, Charlie smoothed his brow, clasped his hands over his head, and, leaning back, gently warbled the chorus of a college song as if it expressed his views of life better than he could: "While our rosy fillets shed Blushes o'er each fervid head, With many a cup and many a smile The festal moments we beguile." "Some of my saints here were people of one idea, and though they were not very successful from a worldly point of view while alive, they were loved and canonized when dead," said Rose, who had been turning over a pile of photographs on the table and just then found her favorite, St.Francis, among them.
"This is more to my taste.Those worn-out, cadaverous fellows give me the blues, but here's a gentlemanly saint who takes things easy and does good as he goes along without howling over his own sins or ****** other people miserable by telling them of theirs." And Charlie laid a handsome St.Martin beside the brown-frocked monk.
Rose looked at both and understood why her cousin preferred the soldierly figure with the sword to the ascetic with his crucifix.One was riding bravely through the world in purple and fine linen, with horse and hound and squires at his back; and the other was in a lazar-house, praying over the dead and dying.The contrast was a strong one, and the girl's eyes lingered longest on the knight, though she said thoughtfully, "Yours is certainly the pleasantestand yet I never heard of any good deed he did, except divide his cloak with a beggar, while St.Francis gave himself to charity just when life was most tempting and spent years working for God without reward.He's old and poor, and in a dreadful place, but I won't give him up, and you may have your gay St.Martin if you want him.""No, thank you, saints are not in my linebut I'd like the golden-haired angel in the blue gown if you'll let me have her.She shall be my little Madonna, and I'll pray to her like a good Catholic," answered Charlie, turning to the delicate, deep-eyed figure with the lilies in its hand.
"With all my heart, and any others that you like.Choose some for your mother and give them to her with my love."So Charlie sat down beside Rose to turn and talk over the pictures for a long and pleasant hour.But when they went away to lunch, if there had been anyone to observe so small but significant a trifle, good St.Francis lay face downward behind the sofa, while gallant St.Martin stood erect upon the chimneypiece.
