“When and where would I be able to do any work, will you tell me?” He spoke almost angrily, but he took the paper from her hand and looked at it again.
“What are you two whispering about?” inquired Carl. He still felt a twinge of jealousy when he saw Jane and Paul talking without taking him into their confidence.
“Nothing,” said Paul. “Just something Jane saw in the paper.” And picking up Minie’s rubber ball he began to bounce and catch it monotonously.
With a shrug of his shoulders, Paul handed the paper over to Carl, pointing out the paragraph. Carl gave it to Mr. Lambert.
“Read it, father.” So Mr. Lambert put on his spectacles, while Jane looked uneasily at Paul.
Mr. Lambert read it aloud, and then without making any comment, laid the paper aside. He looked displeased.
“Why don’t you compete, Paul?” said Carl suddenly. “There’d be no harm in trying.”
Then Aunt Gertrude, glancing timidly at her husband, found courage to put in a word.
There was a silence, during which everyone waited for Mr. Lambert to say something; but no remark from him was forthcoming. That he was annoyed could be seen plainly, but because the suggestion had come from Carl he maintained his silence.
“Do you think you’d stand any chance of winning, Paul?” Carl asked secure in his peculiar privileges of free speech.
Jane was simply on tenter-hooks. If only Carl would take up the case!
“Well, why don’t you? You could find some place—”
“That isn’t the point,” interrupted Paul, looking directly at his uncle, “it’s up to you, Uncle Peter. You told me that I wasn’t to touch a paint-brush while I was in your house. And I haven’t. But I—”
“Well, you’ll let him, won’t you, father? He might as well have a go at it.”
“But it’s only a little matter, father. I’d like to see how he’d make out. We’d feel pretty fine if he _should_ win anything, and if he doesn’t, there’s nothing lost.”
Mr. Lambert bit his lip. But at that time he could no more have refused his son’s slightest wish than he could have struck him.
“Well, well—go ahead if you want, Paul. I am sure I wish you every success.” It was stiffly and unwillingly said, but it was a victory nonetheless, and Paul did not know whether to be more amazed at his uncle’s concession or at Carl’s intercession. Jane, her face beaming with delight, started to clap her hands, and then realizing that any evidences of unseemly joy might have unpleasant results, quickly folded them in her lap.