Yes, she's a
talented dear, though she hardly knows a needle
from a crowbar, and will make herself one great
blot some of these days, when the 'divine afflatus'
descends upon her, I'm afraid."
And Nan rubbed away with sisterly zeal at
Di's forlorn hose and inky pocket-handkerchiefs.
"Where is Laura?" proceeded the inquisitor.
"Well, I might say that she was in Italy; for
she is copying some fine thing of Raphael's or
Michael Angelo's, or some great creatures or
other; and she looks so picturesque in her pretty
gown, sitting before her easel, that it's really a
sight to behold, and I've peeped two or three
times to see how she gets on."
And Nan bestirred herself to prepare the dish
Wherewith her picturesque sister desired to
prolong her artistic existence.
"Where is your father?" John asked again,
checking off each answewr with a nod and a little
frown.
"He is down in the garden, deep in some plan
about melons, the beginning of which seems to
consist in stamping the first proposition in Euclid
all over the bed, and then poking a few seeds
into the middle of each.
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