extract of potash was sending out signals of distress to some spirits of
turpentine which was burning on the top of her right eyebrow.

Something dark and lingering like iodine had given her chin the
double-cross and her apron looked like the remnants of a porous plaster.

Her right hand had red, white, green, purple, and magenta marks all over
it, and her left hand looked like the Fourth of July.

"John!" she yelled; "here it is! My goodness, I am so excited! See what
a fine picture of you I took!"

She handed me the picture, but all I could see was a woodshed with the
door wide open.

"A good picture of the woodshed," I said; "but whose woodshed is it?"

"A woodshed!" exclaimed friend wife; "why, that is your face, John. And
where you think the door is open is only your mouth!"

I looked crestfallen and then I looked at the picture again, but my
better nature asserted itself and I made no attempt to strike this
defenseless woman.

Then she handed me another picture and said, "John, isn't this
wonderful?"

I looked at the picture and muttered, "All I can see is Theodore, the
colored gardener, walking across lots with a sack of flour on his back!"

"John, you are so stupid," said friend wife. "How can you expect to see
what it is when you are holding the picture upside down?"

I turned the picture around, and then I was quite agreeably surprised.

"It's immense!" I shouted. "It's the real thing, all right! Why this is
aces! I suppose it is called, 'Moonlight on Lake Champlain'? Did this
one come with the camera or did you draw it from memory?"

"The idea of such a thing," friend wife snapped, "can't you see that
you're holding the picture the wrong way. Turn it around and you will
see what it is!"

I gave the thing another turn.

"Gee whiz!" I said, "now I have it! Oh, the limit! You wished to
surprise me with a picture of the sunset at Governor's Island. How
lovely it is! See, over here in this corner there's a bunch of soldiers
listening to what's cooking for supper, and over here is the smoke from
the gun that sets the sun--I like it!"

Then my wife grabbed the picture out of my hands and burst into speech.

"Why do you try to discourage my efforts to be artistic?" she volleyed
and thundered. "This is a picture of you holding Mrs. McIlvaine's baby
in your arms, and I think it's perfectly lovely, even if the baby is the
only intelligent thing in the picture."

When the exercises were over I inquir