“Bless your dear heart, Mary, I know that--why is your father so obdurate?”
“George, he means well, but art is folly to him--he only understands groceries. He thinks you would starve me.”
“Confound his wisdom--it savors of inspiration. Why am I not a money-making bowelless grocer, instead of a divinely gifted sculptor with nothing to eat?”
“Do not despond, Georgy, dear--all his prejudices will fade away as soon as you shall have acquired fifty thousand dol--”
“Fifty thousand demons! Child, I am in arrears for my board!”
