“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 sincere enough.

“I see you would like it.  Don’t stand; we can talk while we go.  Well, my boy, there is a great deal of hard work, patient plodding, uninteresting study to be gone through, and as many failures and tumbles as days in the year, before you reach even the first step of the ladder.  Do you think you could go through it?”

“I would go through anything, Mr. Keane, and toil for twenty years, if need be, only to be allowed to work at it.  Do you know, it is life to me even to think of it.”

Robert Keane glanced curiously at the lad.  His face was kindling with emotion, and his eyes shone like stars.

“All right, my boy; you’re the right stuff, I see.  Leave it with me; I’ll fix it right enough.  And you’ll go to Philadelphia as sure as my name’s Keane.  No need to thank me.  Let your future success be my reward, if I need any.  Let us try a race back; you’re a splendid skater.”

They turned, and sped along the ice at lightning speed, and Tom came in a dozen yards in front at the farther side.

“Ahead of me,” laughed Mr. Keane.  “Is that an omen of the future, Tom?”

Miss Goldthwaite noted the boy’s flushed, happy face and bright eyes, and concluded Mr. Robert Keane must have wrought the change.  She turned to remark upon it to Alice, when a hand touched her arm, and Tom’s voice said eagerly, “Will you skate with me, Miss Goldthwaite?  I want to speak to you.”  She nodded smilingly and gave him her hand.

“O Miss Goldthwaite,” said Tom in a great burst of happiness, “Mr. Robert Keane says he will take me to Philadelphia with him, and help me to be a painter.”

“I guessed he would,” said Carrie.  “I am very glad of it, Tom.  Do you remember what I said about this joy coming in God’s good time?”