, there's some joke going on here between the ladies!"

"Do you remember this, Zack?" asked Mrs. Blyth, tightening her hold of
Madonna with one hand, and producing the framed drawing of the Venus de'
Medici with the other.

"Madonna's copy from my bust of the Venus!" cried Valentine, interposing
with his usual readiness, and skipping forward with his accustomed
alacrity.

"Madonna's copy from Blyth's bust of the Venus," echoed Zack, coolly;
his slippery memory not having preserved the slightest recollection of
the drawing at first sight of it.

"Dear me! how nicely it's framed, and how beautifully she has finished
it!" pursued Valentine, gently patting Madonna's shoulder, in token of
his high approval and admiration.

"Very nicely framed, and beautifully finished, as you say, Blyth,"
glibly repeated Zack, rising from his chair, and looking rather
perplexed, as he noticed the expression with which Mrs. Blyth was
regarding him.

"But who got it framed?" asked Valentine. "She would never have any of
her drawings framed before. I don't understand what it all means."

"No more do I," said Zack, dropping back into his chair in lazy
astonishment. "Is it some riddle, Mrs. Blyth? Something about why is
Madonna like the Venus de' Medici, eh? If it is, I object to the riddle,
because she's a deal prettier than any plaster face that ever was made.
Your face beats Venus's hollow," continued Zack, communicating this
bluntly sincere compliment to Madonna by the signs of the deaf and dumb
alphabet.

She smiled as she watched the motion of his fingers--perhaps at his
mistakes, for he made two in expressing one short sentence of five
words--perhaps at the compliment, homely as it was.

"Oh, you men, how dreadfully stupid you are sometimes!" exclaimed Mrs.
Blyth. "Why, Valentine, dear, it's the easiest thing in the world to
guess what she has had the drawing framed for. To make it a present to
somebody, of course! And who does she mean to give it to?"

"Ah! who indeed?" interrupted Zack, sliding down cozily in his chair,
resting his head on the back rail, and spreading his legs out before him
at full stretch.

"I have a great mind to throw the drawing at your head, instead of
giving it to you!" cried Mrs. Blyth, losing all patience.

"You don't mean to say the drawing's a present to _me!"_ exclaimed Zack,
starting from his chair with one prodigious jump of astonishment.

"You deserve to have your ears well boxed for not ha