Roderick's bust of his mother, whether or no it was a discharge of what
he called the filial debt, was at least a most admirable production.
Rowland, at the time it was finished, met Gloriani one evening, and this
unscrupulous genius immediately began to ask questions about it. "I am
told our high-flying friend has come down," he said. "He has been doing
a queer little old woman."
"A queer little old woman!" Rowland exclaimed. "My dear sir, she is
Hudson's mother."
"All the more reason for her being queer! It is a bust for terra-cotta,
eh?"
"By no means; it is for marble."
"That 's a pity. It was described to me as a charming piece of
quaintness: a little demure, thin-lipped old lady, with her head on
one side, and the prettiest wrinkles in the world--a sort of fairy
godmother."
"Go and see it, and judge for yourself," said Rowland.
"No, I see I shall be disappointed. It 's quite the other thing, the
sort of thing they put into the campo-santos. I wish that boy would
listen to me an hour!"
But a day or two later Rowland met him again in the street, and, as
they were near, proposed they should adjourn to Roderick's studio.
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