I can't paint like Jimmie or sing like my mother did--or do
a single thing."
Now Mr. Allendyce suddenly felt so excited that he wriggled on the
rickety chair until it creaked threateningly.
"If you had money, Miss Gordon--what would you do?"
"Why I'd run away." She answered with startling promptness. "Oh, I don't
mean that I'm not happy here. I love it. And I adore Jimmie. But I'm a
girl and I'm lame, so I'm a--a millstone 'round Jimmie's neck!"
"What in the world--"
"_Promise_ you won't ever tell him what I'm saying. Oh, he'd feel
dreadfully. You see it's just that. He feels sorry 'cause I'm lame and
he won't believe that I don't mind a bit--why, I can run and do
everything--and he won't ever go anywhere without me. And an artist
shouldn't have to be tied down; I heard Mr. Tony say so, once, when
Jimmie was very blue. He didn't know I heard. Now Mr. Tony's going off
for a long cruise in the South Seas on a sailing boat and he wants
Jimmie to go with him. He's going to write stories and he says if Jimmie
sees it all he will make his fortune painting pictures. And he can
illustrate the stories, too.
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