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drecall a waiting promise made to me years and years ago。 And the wedding！ Surely you have not forgotten that。 I was there； you rememberbut not as the groom。
On one particular evening in Junean evening that marked an important stage in the development of Oliver's fortunesthe front porch； owing to Malachi's attentions； was in spotless conditionsteps； knocker； and round silver knobs。
Sue and Oliver sat on the top step； they had stolen across from the Clayton porch on some pretended errand。 Sue's chin was in her hand； and Oliver sat beside her pouring out his heart as he had never done before。 He had realized long ago that she could never understand his wanting to be a painter as Miss Clendenning had done； and so he had never referred to it since the night of the musicale； when he had raced across the Square to tell her of his talk with the little lady。 Sue； as he remembered afterward； had listened abstractedly。 She would have preferred at the time his running in to talk about herself rather than about his queer ambitions。 She was no more interested now。
〃Ollie； what does your father say about all this？〃 she finally asked in a perfunctory way。 〃Would he be willing for you to be a painter？〃 It bored her to listen to Oliver's enthusiastic talk about light and shade； and color and perspective； and what Mr。 Crocker had said and what Mr。 Crocker was doing； and what Mr。 Crocker's last portrait was like。 She was sure that nobody else around Kennedy Square talked of such things or had such curious ambitions。 They shocked her as much as Oliver's wearing some outlandish clothes would have donemaking him conspicuous and； perhaps； an object of ridicule。
〃Father's all right； Sue。 He's always right；〃 Oliver answered。 〃He believes in Mr。 Crocker； just as he believes in a lot of things that a good many people around here don't understand。 He believes the time will come when they will value his pictures； and be proud to own them。 But I don't care who owns mine； I just want the fun of painting them。 Just think of what a man can do with a few tubes of color； a brush； and a bit of canvas。 So I don't care if they never buy what I paint。 I can get along somehow； just as Mr。 Crocker does。 He's poor； but just see how happy he is。 Why； when he does a good thing he's nothing but a boy； he's so glad about it。 I always know how his work has gone when I see his face。〃
〃But； Ollie； he's so shabby； and his daughter gives music…lessons。 Nobody THINKS of inviting her anywhere。〃 Sue's eyes were shut tight； with an expression of assumed contempt； and her little nose was straight up。
〃Yesbut that doesn't hurt his pictures； Sue。〃 There was a slight trace of impatience in Oliver's tone。
〃Well； perhaps it doesn'tbut you don't want to be like him。 I wouldn't like to see you； Ollie； going about with a picture under your arm that everybody knew you had painted yourself。 And suppose that they would want to buy your pictures？ How would you feel now to be taking other people's money for things you had painted？〃
The boy caught his breath。 It seemed useless to pursue the talk with Sue。 She evidently had no sympathy with his aspirations。
〃Nobut I wish I could paint as he does；〃 he answered； mechanically。
Sue saw the change in his manner。 She realized； too； that she had hurt him in some way。 She drew nearer and put her hand on his arm。
〃Why； you can； Ollie。 You can do anything you want to； Miss Lavinia told me so。〃 The little witch was mistress of one artthat of holding her lover but that was an art of which all the girls about Kennedy Square approved。
〃No； I can't；〃 he replied； forgetting in the caressing touch of her hand the tribute to his ability； and delighted that she was once more in sympathy with him。 〃Mother wouldn't think of my being an artist。 She doesn't understand how I feel about it； and Miss Lavinia； somehow； doesn't seem to be favorable to it either。 I've talked to her lots of times she was more encouraging at first； but she doesn't seem to like the idea now。 I've been hoping she'd fix it so I could speak to mother about it。 Now she tells me I had better wait。 I can't see why Miss Lavinia knows what an artist's life can be； for she knew plenty of painters when she was in London with her father； and she loves pictures； too； and is a good judgenobody here any better。 She told me only a week ago how much one of these Englishmen was paid for a little thing as big as your hand； but I've forgotten the amount。 I don't see why I can't paint as well as those fellows。 Do you know； Sue； I'm beginning to think that about half the people in Kennedy Square are asleep？ They really don't seem to think there is anything respectable but the law。 If they are right； how about all the men who painted the great pictures and built all the cathedrals； or the men who wrote all the poems and histories？ Mother； of course； wants me to be a lawyer。 Because I'm fitted for it？not a bit of it！ Simply because father was one before me and his father before him； and Uncle John Tilghman another； and so on back to the deluge。〃
Sue drew away a little and turned her head toward the Square as if in search of someone。 Oliver noticed the movement and his heart sank again。 He saw but too clearly how little impression the story of his ambitions had made upon her。 Then the thought flashed into his mind that he might have offended her in some way； clashing against her traditions and her prejudices as he had done。 He bent toward her and laid his hand in hers。
〃Little girl；〃 he said； in a softened tone； 〃I can't make you unhappy； too。 Mother is enough for me to worry aboutI haven't talked it all out to you before； but don't you get a wrong idea of what I'm going to do〃 and he looked up into her face and tightened his hold upon her fingers； his eyes never wavering from her own。
The girl allowed his hand to remain an instant； then quickly withdrew her own and started up。 Coyness is sometimes fear in the timid heart that is stepping into the charmed circle for the first time。
〃There goes Ella Dorsey and Jack〃 she cried； springing down the steps。 〃Ella！ Ella！〃 and an answering halloo came back； and the two started from Malachi's steps and raced up the street to join their young friends。
CHAPTER IV
AN OLD…FASHIONED MORTGAGE
Pretty Sue Clayton with her ringlets and rosy cheeks had not been Oliver's only listener。
His mother had been sitting inside the drawing… room； just beside the open window。 She had spoken to Sue and Oliver when they first mounted the steps； and had begged them both to come in； but they had forgotten her presence。 Unintentionally； therefore； she had heard every word of the conversation。 Her old fears rushed over her again with renewed force。 She had never for a moment supposed that Oliver wanted to be a painterlike Mr。 Crocker！ Now at last she understood his real object in talking to Lavinia the night of the musical。
〃Richard；〃 she called softly to her husband sitting in the adjoining room； in the chair that Malachi； in accordance with the old custom； had with his sweeping bow made ready for him。 The inventor had been there since tea was over； lying back in his seat； his head resting on his hand。 He had had one of his thoughtful days； worrying over some detail of his machine； still incomplete。 The new device of which he had told her with such glee had failed； as had the others。 The motor was still incomplete。
〃Richard；〃 she repeated。
〃Yes； my dear；〃 he answered； in his gentle voice。 He had not heard her at first。
〃Bring your chair over here。〃
The inventor rose instantly and； crossing the room； took a seat beside her； his hand finding hers in the dark。
〃What is this you have been saying to Oliver about artists being great men？〃 she asked。 〃He's got a new idea in his head nowhe wants to be a painter。 I've thought for some time that Mr。 Crocker was not a proper person for him to be so much with。 He has evidently worked on the boy's imagination until he has determined to give up the law and study art。〃
〃How do you know？〃
〃I've just heard him tell Sue Clayton so。 All he wants now is my consenthe says he has yours。〃
The inventor paused； and gently smoothed his wife's fingers with his own。
〃And you would not give it？〃 he inquired。
〃How could I？ It would ruin himdon't you know it？〃 There was a slight tinge of annoyance in her voicenot one of fault…finding； but rather of anxiety。
〃That depends； my dear； on how well he could succeed；〃 he answered； gently。
〃Why； Richard！〃 She withdrew her hand quickly from his caressing touch； and looked at him in undisguised astonishment。 〃What has his SUCCEEDING to do with it？ Surely you cannot be in earnest？ I am willing he should do anything to make his living； but not that。 No one we know has ever been a painter。 It is neither respectable nor profitable。 You see what a dreadful existence Mr。 Crocker leads hardly an associate in town； and no acquaintances for his daughter； and he's been painting ever since he was a boy。 Oliver could not earn a penny at such work。〃
〃Money is not everything； my dear； nor social recognition。 There are many things I would value more。〃
〃What are they？〃 She was facing him now； her brows knit； a marked antagonism in her voic