have brightened up again now." (This was
true: the sad stillness had left Madonna's face, at sight of the friend
and mother of her early days.) "Perhaps she's been sticking a little too
close to her drawing lately--"

"By the bye, talking of drawings, what's become of my drawing?" cried
Zack, suddenly recalled for the first time to the remembrance of
Madonna's gift.

"Dear me!" pursued Mrs. Peckover, looking towards the three
drawing-boards, which had been placed together round the pedestal of
the cast; "are all those little Mary's doings? She's cleverer at it, I
suppose, by this time, than ever. Ah, Lord! what an old woman I feel,
when I think of the many years ago--"

"Come and look at what she has done to-night," interrupted Valentine,
taking Mrs. Peckover by the arm, and pressing it very significantly as
he glanced at the part of the table where young Thorpe was sitting.

"My drawing--where's my drawing?" repeated Zack. "Who put it away when
tea came in? Oh, there it is, all safe on the book case."

"I congratulate you, sir, on having succeeded at last in remembering
that there is such a thing in the world as Madonna's present," said Mrs.
Blyth sarcastically.

Zack looked up bewildered from his tea, and asked directly what those
words meant.

"Oh, never mind," said Mrs. Blyth in the same tone, "they're not worth
explaining. Did you ever hear of a young gentleman who thought more of
a plate of muffins than of a lady's gift? I dare say not! I never did.
It's too ridiculously improbable to be true, isn't it? There! don't
speak to me; I've got a book here that I want to finish. No, it's no
use; I shan't say another word."

"What have I done that's wrong?" asked Zack, looking piteously perplexed
as he began to suspect that he had committed some unpardonable mistake
earlier in the evening. "I know I burnt a muffin; but what has that got
to do with Madonna's present to me?" (Mrs. Blyth shook her head; and,
opening her book, became quite absorbed over it in a moment.) "Didn't I
thank her properly for it? I'm sure I meant to." (Here he stopped; but
Mrs. Blyth took no notice of him.) "I suppose I've got myself into some
scrape? Make as much fun as you like about it; but tell me what it is.
You won't? Then I'll find out all about it from Madonna. She knows, of
course; and she'll tell me. Look here, Mrs. Blyth; I'm not going to get
up till she's told me everything." And Zack, with a comic gesture of
entreaty, dropped