"I don't quite understand you, sir," he said to Mr. Keane. "I can't
afford to send the boy anywhere to learn anything, if ye mean that.
He'll never do no good on a farm, for sartin; but he kin work for his
livin' here, an' that's all I kin do for 'im."

"I am a painter myself," said Mr. Keane, guessing they were unaware
of the fact, and now wishing to state his intentions as briefly and
plainly as possible; "and from what I have seen of your nephew I
believe his talent for art to be very great indeed. What I mean is
this: give him up to me; I will take him back to Philadelphia, and
take entire care of his training. It will not cost you a farthing,
Mr. Strong. Do you understand?"

"We're poor folks, but we don't take charity even for Hetty's
children," said Miss Hepsy pointedly. "We've never been offered it
afore."

Mr. Keane might have waxed angry at the impertinent remark. He was
only inwardly amused. "It is not charity, Miss Strong," he said
good-humouredly. "I expect Tom will be able to repay anything he may
cost me. I hope you will not stand in the lad's way. He is a born
artist, and will never do good in any other sphere.--Come, Mr.
Strong, say yes, and let us shake hands over the bargain."

It was proof of the rare delicacy of Robert Keane's nature that he
put the matter in the light of a favour to himself. Mr. Goldthwaite
admired and honoured his friend at that moment more than he had ever
done before.

Aunt Hepsy preserved a rigid and unbending silence.