d Mrs. Flaxman; for the latter
an idealized portrait of Hubert, in a heavy gilt frame, which I had
painted from a photograph; and for Mr. Winthrop a much better picture of
Oaklands than the one he already possessed.

I turned to Mr. Bovyer uncertainly, and, after a moment hesitation, said:
"I have a bit of my work here for you; but it is so little worth. I am
ashamed to offer it." I handed him the folded leaves, tied with ribbons,
of Longfellow's "Reapers and the Angels," which I had spent some time in
trying to illustrate, with the hope one day of turning it into cash. He
thanked me, I thought, with unnecessary fervor, considering the smallness
of the gift, and stood examining my poor attempt to express the poet's
meaning by brush and pencil.

"I say, Winthrop, this is really clever for one so young."

Mr. Winthrop took the book and turned over the leaves.

"You have reason to be proud, Medoline, that one of our severest art
critics has pronounced favorably on your work. Perhaps the being
remembered on Christmas morning has made him blind to its faults."

"I find Mr. Winthrop a very healthy corrective against any flattering
remarks of my other friends, I accept him as a sort of mental tonic," I
said, turning to Mr. Bovyer.

"Our morning's work is not yet completed," Mr. Winthrop said. "Please
excuse me a moment." He went into the library, and returning shortly, he
went first to Mrs. Flaxman and gave her a good sized parcel. I was
waiting so eagerly to see her open it that I scarce thought if I, too,
should be remembered; but after standing for a few seconds by the fire he
came to my side and gave me a tiny box done up carelessly in a bit of
paper. I opened it, when the most beautiful diamond ring I ever saw
glittered a moment after on my finger.

"Oh, Mr. Winthrop, is this really and truly mine?"

"Really and truly, yes."

In my surprise and delight I lifted the ring to my lips and kissed it.

"That is the prettiest compliment paid to a gift I ever witnessed," Mr.
Bovyer said, with a smile.

"Medoline has her own way of doing things. I find her refreshingly
original."

"That is almost better than the ring," I murmured gratefully, looking up
into his face.

"Shall we have breakfast served now?" He turned abruptly round and
touched the bell. I bethought me of Mrs. Flaxman and looked just in
time to see her slipping off an elegant sealskin dolman, while her eyes
looked very dewy and tender.

"Mr. Winthro