ctive, and a credit to any artist.

"Well!" exclaimed Uncle, after a moment, "what have the critics to say?
What do you think of--of the gypsy, for instance? Who will buy it?"

"I won't!" shouted a funny little fellow in knickerbockers. "It's a
chromo."

The gypsy twitched very slightly, and all the other pictures put on
increased solemnity of expression, for they felt that their time, too,
was coming.

"Do you throw in the frame?" asked some one else.

"Isn't that right eye a little out?" said a girl who was taking
drawing-lessons.

This made the picture laugh, and presto! the frame was empty.

After this, though the remarks made were not brilliant nor irresistibly
funny, the picture-gallery soon suffered severe losses. So small a thing
will make us laugh when we try to look grave. The brigand exploded at a
cutting allusion to his dagger; the Quakeress yielded to a profound
remark concerning her _chiaro-scuro_; other faces grinned the instant
they were specially alluded to, and finally, Fandy's portrait was the
only one left in its frame. That bright little countenance stared into
the room so defiantly that even Uncle George tried, with the rest, to
conquer it.

In vain critics criticised--the portrait was deaf. In vain they tried to
be as funny as they could; it was obdurate. In vain they shouted at it,
laughed at it. Not a smile. Fandy was a youth of principle, and he felt
bound in honor to do his duty. Then the boys called the picture names.
It was a monkey, a tramp, a kitten, an eel, a hop-toad. Everybody tried
to think of something too funny for him to resist. Then Donald said:

"No, it's not an animal at all. Let's see--what _does_ it look like, any
way? Ah, it's a target; don't you see the bull's-eye?"

Not a smile.

"Bring a pot of varnish," cried Ed Tyler, "the picture is so dull we'll
shine it up a little and see what that will do." Suddenly a childish
howl was heard, to everybody's surprise; for little three-year-old
Isabel had been quite forgotten.

"A-ow, a-ow! Tate Fan'-y down. What's 'e masser wis Fan'-y? Me want
Fan'-y."

The little sister unconsciously triumphed where every one else had
tried and failed. Fandy laughed with the rest, and instantly
disappeared, as though he had been blown out like a candle. He was soon
in the parlor, comforting Isabel to the best of his ability, casting
saucy glances at the rest of the company meanwhile, with a merry shake
of the head, as if to say, "You