the footstep said "damn!" audibly enough toreach Miss Erskine's ear as she sat before her easel. She rose aspromptly as though he had knocked and opened the door. She had climbedthose stairs so often herself that she found it easy to make allowances.Not for one moment did she suppose that the visit was intended forher,--it was a mistake that had happened before, but not often; as arule people preferred to make those mistakes lower down,--neither did itcross her mind to imagine that it might mean pupils; she had given upall hope of anything in that line, had almost forgotten the poor littleadvertisement that she had felt so proud to read in print; it seemed solong ago since it had been written; and yet it was not quite threeweeks. A young man stood outside in the narrow passage at the head ofthe stairs, a big young man--disproportionately big he appeared to Jill,but that was only because his surroundings were disproportionatelycramped. He was in reality a very fine young man, with a good deal ofmuscular development, and a pair of long legs. He was not seen toadvantage just at that moment for he was looking decidedly out ofhumour, and his brows were drawn together over his eyes until heappeared to scowl. He bowed gravely on seeing Jill, and his facerelaxed a little.
"I beg your pardon," he began, but Jill cut him short.
"Don't mention it," she answered promptly. "I wasn't surprised in theleast; I have felt that way myself sometimes--just at first, you know."
He stared rather. Not being acquainted with the quality and thicknessof the lath and plaster of that locality, he did not connect her speechwith the mild ejaculation that had apprised her of the fact that he hadreached the top, and had mounted those stairs for the first time, and herather inclined to the belief that he had chanced upon a lunatic.
"I was informed that Miss Erskine lives here," he continued, glancing atthe palette and mhalstick in her hand, which in her haste she hadforgotten to put down. Instantly she perceived that he had not followedher train of thought, and regretted her former speech. Then she said"Oh!" because she did not know what else to say, and felt glad that shehad a fire.
"Won't you come inside?" she asked.
He took her for one of Miss Erskine's pupils, and followed her insilence. She shut the door behind him, and then he saw that there wasno one else in the room.
"The--the servant,"--he had narrowly escaped saying `slavey'--"told meto come straight up," he went on explanatorily, "she said Miss Erskinewas in. Can I see her if she is not engaged?"
Jill smiled a little bitterly. Engaged!
"I am Miss Erskine," she answered with a touch of dignity that sat veryquaintly on her, for she was small, and, in her black dress with the bigwhite painting apron falling straight from the yoke like a child'spinafore, looked ridiculously school-girlish and young; in addition towhich she wore her hair in a plait, the end doubled underneath and tiedwith a black velvet bow. No wonder that he had taken her for a pupil.
The information seemed to surprise him, and he regarded her somewhatdubiously for a moment. Then he bowed.
"I am fortunate to find you disengaged," he said.
"_I_ should be fortunate if you had found me otherwise," Jill answeredruefully, but he did not smile; probably he considered her flippant.
"I read your advertisement in the paper a short while since," hecontinued gravely, "and came to--" he hesitated, and glanced round theroom till his eye fell upon the canvas on which she was engaged, and thesight of it seemed to decide him, "to enquire your terms. I wish tostudy act."
Jill gasped. She had never connected him for a moment with theadvertisement; this was not the sort of applicant that she had expectedat all; the mere idea of teaching this dreadfully big young man appalledher. Apparently the incongruity of the situation did not appeal to him,or perhaps he was too much engrossed with the main object to think ofanything else; for he went on quite coolly as though her acceptance ofhim as a pupil were a foregone conclusion.
"I have long wanted to take up art as a hobby for leisure moments, but Ihave never had the pluck to go to one of the big studios as I knowabsolutely nothing, and I'm not quite sure, dubiously, whether I havemuch talent that way."
"That is soon proved," she answered. "But you will never do anything atit if you intend only to make a `hobby' of it."
He smiled.
"You think the term ill-advised?" he said.
"I think it inapplicable."
"And when shall I come?" he asked. "To-morrow?"
"Good gracious, no!" she exclaimed vehemently; then checked herself andcontinued in a slightly apologetic tone, "That is I mean if you willleave your address I will write. I must have a little while in which todecide."
"Certainly," he replied, and he took out a card and laid it on thetable, and the next thing Miss Erskine knew was, that she was bowing hervisitor out, and keeping the studio door obligingly open to light himdown to the next landing. There was no more work for her that morning;she sat in front of the fire with his card in her hand, and went overthe interview in her mind till she laughed aloud. On the card wasengraved in neat copper plate, "Mr John St. John, 13 Bedford Square,"and below that again was another address at Henley. Evidently Mr St.John was fairly well to do. And he wished to dabble in art. Well, whyshouldn't he? Jill could see no reason why he shouldn't, but she saw agreat many why she should not be his instructress. It was a greattemptation nevertheless; she was badly in want of money for one thing,but on the other hand he was so tremendously big that the thought ofundertaking him as a pupil filled her with a strange shyness. She feltthat she could not do it, and determined to write and tell him so. Asluck would have it that afternoon she sold three canvasses. They didnot fetch much it is true, still it was something, and the dealerfurther intimated that he would be glad of more work from her in thefuture. This was encouraging, and Jill went home in the best ofspirits. That night she wrote to Mr St. John stating as briefly aspossible that she regretted any inconvenience to which he had been put,but on consideration she discovered that she could not possibly take anyfresh pupils just at present. Then she tossed his card into the firewith a sigh of relief, and, watching it consume, saw the last, as shesupposed, of Mr John St. John.
The next day she did not go out at all, but sat at home working busily,and endeavouring her hardest not to think with regret of last night'snow irrevocable decision. What a pity it was that instead of Mr St.John it had not been some lanky school girl with short dresses and apigtail; it would have been so nice to have someone to talk tooccasionally. At present her conversation was restricted to the man whobought her pictures, and the hard-worked, lodging-house slavey on thenot too numerous occasions when she brought up the coals. The followingafternoon she went out as usual to try and get a few fresh orders, andif possible sell some of her present work. Neither attempt howeverproved successful, and she arrived home tired and worried with adistinct disinclination to climb the stairs. The ascent had to be madenevertheless, and so she trudged wearily up, and pushed open the studiodoor with a long drawn sigh of sheer fatigue. That night she crept intobed supperless because she did not feel hungry, and as a naturalsequence cried herself to sleep.
CHAPTER TWO.
The following morning Jill received another visit. It was a case ofhistory repeating itself so to speak. She was seated in much the sameattitude as on the former occasion, only this time she waited andallowed the visitor to stumble up the stairs as best he could and knockbefore she rose to open the door. It was the same quick blunderingstep, and, when she confronted him, the same slightly scowling face thatmet her glance; apparently Mr St. John did not find the stairs lessintricate on further acquaintance. He held his hat in his hand and Jillnoticed that he looked rather diffident.
"You got my note?" she queried with a clearly perceptible inflection ofsurprise in her voice.
"Yes," he answered, "that is why I am here. I must apologise, though,for calling on your class day. As a matter of fact I came yesterdayafternoon but found I had just missed you; you were out."
"Yes," she replied, "I was out, but I n
ever heard that you had been. Itwas courageous of you to attempt those stairs a second time. Will youcome in?"
He entered, and then looked round in surprise. The room was just thesame as on the former occasion unoccupied save by themselves and with novisible preparation for anyone else. Jill detected the look andresented it.
"You are wondering where my pupils are," she said quickly, "I amexpecting--no," with a proud upraising of her small chin, "I am _not_expecting--How could I expect anyone to mount those stairs?--I am_hoping_ that some may turn up eventually."
"And yet," he said in a distinctly offended tone, "you refuse the firstwho presents himself. But perhaps you mistrusted my claim
The Triumph of Jill Page 2