returned my indignant gaze with a steady smile,
her chin propped on her white hands, her elbows upon the table.

"Yes," said Jonah. "Afraid of being a minute late, and all that sort
of bilge."

"This is an outrage," I gasped. This was nothing but the truth. It
really was, They were simply drawing a bow at a venture.

"Don't tell me--" Berry began.

"I shan't," said I.

"Naughty temper," said my brother-in-law. "Has she shell-like ears?"

"Look here," I said, "all of you."

"Must we?" said Berry. "We've only just finished a heavy meal, and--"

"I have been five times to George's studio, each time solely with the
object of affording him an opportunity, if possible, of perpetuating
upon canvas my gripping personality." This was the whole truth.

"Guilty upon your own confession of felony," said Jonah. "Have you
anything to say why the Court--"

"With the same object I am going to-day." This was the truth. George
was going to give me an hour before Margery came.

"Perhaps we're wronging Boy," said Jill.

"Thank you, dear," said I.

"You can't wrong outlaws," said Berry. "Never mind. Some day we shall
know the ter-ruth."

"I believe you're jealous," said I. "Just because you can't find an
artist sufficiently dauntless to reproduce your brutal physiognomy--"

"He means to be rude," Berry explained.

I walked to the door.

"Don't forget our lunch, old chap," said my sister.

"You've taken away my appetite," said I.

"Oh, Boy, you know we love you."

I opened the door.

"I say," said Berry.

"What?" said I, pausing.

"Tell George to put in the warts."

Six weeks had hurried away. And then, one morning, I got a note from
George, saying that he had had my picture framed and was sending it
along. I broke the news to the others after breakfast.

"Oh, Boy!" cried Jill excitedly.

"I want to see it awfully," said Daphne.

"Why rush upon your fate?" said her husband.

"I hope you'll like it," said I nervously.

"Where are we going to bury--I mean, hang it?" said Jonah.

"What about the potting-shed?" said Berry. "We can easily move the
more sensitive bulbs."

"If it's good," said Daphne, "we'll have it in the library."

"I object," said her husband. "I don't want to be alone with it after
dark."

I smiled upon him. Then:

"Bur-rother," said I. "I like to think that I shall be always with
you. Though in reality harsh leagues may lie between us, yet from the
east wall