One day Delia came home with bright eyes. "Joe, dear," she said, "I have found a pupil. General Pinkney — a fine old gentleman — wants me to teach the piano to his daughter Clementina. She is a sweet girl, and the General is very rich. I shall give three lessons a week, and they will pay me five dollars for each lesson. Their house is large and full of old furniture from the South. Clementina is a little lazy at the piano, but she has a sweet heart, and I shall enjoy teaching her. The General loves music, and he listens from the next room while we play. Now you need not leave your studies, and we shall live more easily." But Joe was not glad. "That is all very well for you," he said, "but what about me? Do you think I will let you work for money while I play with my brushes? No, never!" "Joe, dear, you are foolish," said Delia. "You must go on with your lessons. I am not leaving my music. While I teach, I learn a little too. With five dollars a lesson we shall live like rich people. You must not think of giving up Magister." "Very well," said Joe at last, "but I do not like you giving lessons. It is not art. Still, you are good and dear to do it." "When one loves one's art, no service seems too hard," said Delia. So Delia went out to teach. And a few days later Joe came home in the evening and proudly pulled some money from his pocket. "I have sold a sketch," he said, "to a man from Peoria. He wants another one, a painting of the river, and he will pay well. Delia, we are both succeeding!" "I am so glad," said Delia. "You have not given up your art, and you are already selling your work. Thirty-three dollars! We were never so rich." That week, and the week after, both of them brought money home. Every evening they laid their dollars on the little table and counted them, laughing, like two happy children.