them with this background."

It was the picture, not the woman, that filled his soul. Flesh tones
heightened by a caressing, lingering curl, and relieved by green
leaves and flowers, were what had made the Munich picture a success.

"But I haven't any low-necked gowns. Those I had when I was married
are all worn out, and I've never needed any since. My nearest
neighbors are ten miles away, and half the time I dine with only
Phil."

"Well, but can't you fix something?" persisted Adam, bent on the
composition he had in his mind. "Everybody's been so good to me here I
want this portrait to be the very best I can do. What is in these
trunks? There must be some old dresses belonging to somebody's
grandmother or somebody's aunt. Do you mind my opening this one? It's
unlocked."

Adam lifted the lid. A faded satin gown belonging to the Judge's
mother lay on the top. The old lady had been born and brought up under
this roof, and was still alive when the Judge's first wife died.

"Here's the very thing."

"And you really want that old frock? All right, Mr. Autocrat, I'll run
down and put it on."

She was like a child dressing for her first party. Twice did her hair
fall about her shoulders and twice must she gather it up, fingering
carefully the long curl, patting it into place; hooking the bodice so
that all its modesty would be preserved and yet the line of the throat
show clear, shaking out the full, pannier-like skirt until it stood
out quite to her liking. Then with a mock curtsey to herself in the
glass, she dashed out of the room, up the narrow stairs and into the
garret again before he had had time to sort over his brushes.

"Lovely!" he burst out enthusiastically when she had whirled round so
he could see all sides of her. "It's more beautiful than the one I
first saw you in. Now you look like a bit of old Dresden china--No, I
think you look like a little French queen. No, I don't know what you
do look like, only you're the loveliest thing I ever saw!"

The gown fitted her perfectly; part of her neck was bare, the single
curl, just as he wanted it, straying over it. Then came the waist of
ivory-white flowered satin with elbow sleeves, and then the puffy
panniers drooped about the slender bodice. As he drank in her beauty
the blood went tingling through his veins. He had thought her lovely
that first morning when he saw her on the porch: then she was all
blossoms; now she was a vision of the olden time for who