oor was dashed open--and Mr. Thorpe, junior, burst into the
room.

"Dear old Blyth! how are you?" cried Zack. "Have you had any leap-frog
since I was here last? Jump up, and let's celebrate my return to the
painting-room with a bit of manly exercise in our old way. Come on! I'll
give the first back. No shirking! Put down your palette; and one, two,
three--and over!"

Pronouncing these words, Zack ran to the end of the room opposite to
Valentine; and signalized his entry into the studio by the extraordinary
process of giving its owner, what is termed in the technical language of
leap-frog, "a capital back."

Mr. Blyth put down his palette, brushes, and mahl-stick--tucked up his
cuffs and smiled--took a little trial skip into the air--and, running
down the room with the slightly tremulous step of a gentleman of fifty,
cleared Zack in gallant style; fell over on the other side, all in a
lump on his hands and feet; gave the return "back" conscientiously, at
the other end of the studio; and was leapt over in an instant, with a
shout of triumph, by Zack. The athletic ceremonies thus concluded, the
two stood up together and shook hands heartily.

"Too stiff, Blyth--too stiff and shaky by half," said young Thorpe. "I
haven't kept you up enough in your gymnastics lately. We must have some
more leap-frog in the garden; and I'll bring my boxing gloves next time,
and open your chest by teaching you to fight. Splendid exercise, and so
good for your sluggish old liver."

Delivering this opinion, Zack ran off to Madonna, who had been keeping
the Venus de' Medici from being shaken down, while she looked on at the
leap-frog. "How is the dearest, prettiest, gentlest love in the world?"
cried Zack, taking her hand, and kissing it with boisterous fondness.
"Ah! she lets other old friends kiss her cheek, and only lets me kiss
her hand!--I say, Blyth, what a little witch she is--I'll lay you two to
one she's guessed what I've just been saying to her."

A bright flush overspread the girl's face while Zack addressed her. Her
tender blue eyes looked up at him, shyly conscious of the pleasure that
their expression was betraying; and the neat folds of her pretty grey
dress, which had lain so still over her bosom when she was drawing,
began to rise and fall gently now, when Zack was holding her hand. If
young Thorpe had not been the most thoughtless of human beings--as much
a boy still, in many respects, as when he was locked up in his fathe