"Ah!" said Herr Paul raising his brows till his glasses fell from
his nose: "And what says Gretchen? Does she want to be handed up to
posterities a little peacock along with the other little birds?"

Greta, who had continued staring at the painter, said:
"Of--course--I--want--to--be."

"Prrt!" said Herr Paul, looking at Miss Naylor. The little lady indeed
opened her mouth wide, but all that came forth was a tiny squeak, as
sometimes happens when one is anxious to say something, and has not
arranged beforehand what it shall be.

The affair seemed ended; Harz heaved a sigh of satisfaction. But Herr
Paul had still a card to play.

"There is your Aunt," he said; "there are things to be considered--one
must certainly inquire--so, we shall see." Kissing Greta loudly on both
cheeks, he went towards the house.

"What makes you want to paint us?" Christian asked, as soon as he was
gone.

"I think it very wrong," Miss Naylor blurted out.

"Why?" said Harz, frowning.

"Greta is so young--there are lessons--it is such a waste of time!"

His eyebrows twitched: "Ah! You think so!"