'It won't do; the design is bad,' the artist petulantly exclaimed as
his daughter re-entered the apartment, and he dashed his pencil to
the ground.
'What won't do, dear papa?' Amy gently inquired.
'I've spent the whole night deciding on a subject, and now that I
have sketched it, see that it's not suitable,' he pettishly made
answer.
'What is it, papa?'
'Coriolanus and his mother.'
'Well, in my opinion, that would be very appropriate. As the other
was a father and daughter, here is a mother and son; but if you don't
like it, what think you of Lear and Cordelia?' Amy's voice faltered,
and she dared not raise her eyes from the sketch which she affected
to be examining.
'I'm not in a mood for painting to-day: I'll try tomorrow.'
'But your time, you said, was short,' Amy ventured to interpose.
'Well, if I can't get it done, he must go without it,' was his
irritable reply. 'I'm not going to be tied down to the easel, whether
disposed or not, for such a paltry sum.
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