young man, rather like Miss Keane; and his face looked a trifle stern
at first, as hers did, but that wore off when you got to know him.

"This is Tom Hurst I told you of, Robert," said Miss Keane; and Tom
shook hands with him reverentially, remembering he was the great
painter all America was talking of.

"I'm glad to see you," said Mr. Robert Keane frankly. "Let us get on
our skates, and you and I shall take a run together. I haven't been
on the ice this season."

Tom sat down and quickly put on his skates, and the pair set off,
keeping close together. Miss Keane turned to Mr. Goldthwaite with a
smile. "Robert is interested already. I want him to do something for
Tom, and I think he will."

"He will not regret it," answered Mr. Goldthwaite. "They are all off
now but we two, Miss Keane; come, we must not be behind."

"My sister tells me you would like to be a painter, Tom," said Mr.
Robert Keane, when they had gone a hundred yards in silence.

"Yes, sir," answered Tom, wishing to say a great deal more, but
unable to utter more than two words.

"What would you say to go back to Philadelphia, and let me look after
your training?"

"O Mr. Keane!" Tom stood still on the ice and lifted incredulous eyes
to his companion's face. There was a smile there, but the eyes were