CHAPTER IX
'If I have taken the common clay
And wrought it cunningly
In the shape of a god that was digged a clod,
The greater honour to me.'
'If thou hast taken the common clay,
And thy hands be not free
From the taint of the soil, thou hast made thy spoil
The greater shame to thee.'—The Two Potters.
He did no work of any kind for the rest of the week. Then came another Sunday. He dreaded
and longed for the day always, but since the red-haired girl had sketched him there was rather more dread than desire in his mind.
He found that Maisie had entirely neglected his suggestions about line-work. She had gone off at score filled with some absurd notion for a 'fancy head.' It cost Dick something to command his temper.
'What's the good of suggesting anything?' he said pointedly.
'Ah, but this will be a picture,—a real picture;
