t I should hear
her do it, and rush to the spot. The door is ajar; I'll storm the
castle.

Flora admitted me with a shout of welcome, the instant I tapped. Etty
pushed a rocking-chair toward me, but said nothing. The little room
was almost lined with books. Drawings, paintings, shells, corals, and,
in the sunny window, plants, met my exploring gaze, but the great
basket was nowhere to be seen. It was got up for the nonce, I imagine.
Etty a rogue!

"This is the pleasantest nook in the house. It is a shame you have not
been let in before," said Flora, zealously. "You shall see Etty's
drawings." Neither of us opened the portfolio she seized, however, but
watched Etty's eyes. They were cast down with a diffident blush which
gave me pain; I was indeed an intruder. She gave us the permission we
waited for, however. There were many good copies of lessons: those I
did not dwell upon. But the sketches, spirited though imperfect, I
studied as if they had been those of an Allston. Etty was evidently in
a fidget at this preference of the smallest line of original talent
over the corrected performances which are like those of every body
else. I drew out a full-length figure done in black chalk on brown
paper. It chained Flora's wondering attention as quite new. It was a
young man with his chair tipped back; his feet rested on a table, with
a slipper perched on each toe. His hands were clasped upon the back of
his head. The face--really, I was angry at the diabolical expression
given it by eyes looking askance, and lips pressed into an arch by a
contemptuous smile. It was a corner of this very brown sheet that I
saw under her arm, when she vanished from the kitchen as I entered;
the vociferous mirth which attracted me was at my expense. Before
Flora could recognize my portrait, Little Ugly pounced upon it; it
fell in a crumpled lump into the bright little wood fire, and ceased
to exist.

"I had totally forgotten it," said she, with a blush which avenged my
wounded self-love. Ironical pleasure at having been the subject of her
pencil I could not indulge myself in expressing, as I did not care to
enlighten Little Handsome. Any lurking pique was banished when Etty
showed me, with a smile, the twilight view by the pond.

"Do you draw?" she asked; and Flora cried, "He makes caricatures of
his friends with pen and ink; let him deny it if he can!"

I was silent.

***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUTUMN LEAVES***

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