am sure to be one too many most of the time."

"Not on his account, you'll not be," replied Alice with a snap, and it
is likely that moment she meant it too.

And what a gallant escort that brother was! And what a change from the
dull monotony of her home life those days were to Alice!

They hunted for houses and visited art galleries mornings, lunched at
Parker's at noon, and devoted the afternoons and evenings to theatres.
Then after that usually a _tete-a-tete_ supper at a cozy place where the
best was to be had, and a little chat in his or her room before
retiring. It was during one of these brief visits that she noticed some
of the pictures that hung in his room.

"Who painted that shipwreck scene?" she asked, looking at one. "It is a
gem, and those poor sailors clinging to the ice-covered rigging are
enough to make one shiver. And those awful waves, too, are simply
terrifying. And what a pretty scene is this wild tangle of rocks with a
girl leaning on one and looking out on the ocean where the sun is
setting or rising," she continued as she viewed the next one. Then as
she examined it a little closer she added, "Who is E. T.?" Albert made
no answer and she passed to a third one showing a little rippled cove
with the ocean beyond and a girl seated in the shade of a small spruce
tree.

"Why, this is by E. T. too," she exclaimed, and turning to her brother
she repeated, "who is E. T.?"

"Well," he answered, "I will take you down to the island some time and
introduce you to her. She will be glad to meet my sister, you may be
certain."

Then it all flashed over Alice, and the brief history of this girl, as
her brother had told it, came back to her in an instant. "So that was
the wreck she floated ashore from, was it, Bert?" she asked; "and can
she paint like that? Why, I am astonished! And who is the girl leaning
on the rock?" she added; "and what an exquisitely molded figure! And
what a pretty pose! Who is she?"

"That is your possible sister-in-law," answered Albert with a touch of
pride, "and the pictures were done by her from sketches I first made
myself. They are true to life so far as all details go, only I failed to
catch her expressive face in the one that shows a front view of her."

"And so that was the way you wooed your island goddess, was it?"
observed Alice with a roguish look; "made her pose for a sketch while
you said sweet things to her." Then with a woman's curiosity she added,
"Have you a