ie in the form of a portrait, and had brought the frame
from home, and tacked across it a piece of black gauze to heighten the
picture-like effect.

"And I put the lamp as far-away from it as possible, and covered it over
so that she might not have to keep still too long. Oh, if you could
only have seen yourselves staring at her, and taking it all in grim
earnest! I never, never enjoyed anything so much in my days!"

"Is it oil colours I am, or water? I'm flattered, ain't I, as a
portrait ought to be? Ye couldn't imagine I could be so neat!" cried
Pixie tauntingly, as she pirouetted to and fro on the top of the table,
to which she had lightly sprung at the first moment of discovery. She
looked like a big French doll, as she swung from side to side, her hands
outheld, her shoulders raised, her tiny feet twinkling to and fro. Her
pink frock was marvellously smart, the flounces stood out in jaunty
fashion around the ankles, the sash encircled a tiny waist, and the
brothers and sisters stood looking on, joy, incredulity, amaze written
upon their faces.

Bridgie's arms kept stretching out and falling back to her side with
automatic regularity, and still the little figure pranced, and
gesticulated, and blew kisses to right and left, at one moment a merry
Irish vagabond, at the next a French marionette--all smirks and bows and
shrugging shoulders.

"We got the better of you that time, I'm thinking! Oh, la-la! how it
was droll to hear you all making your pleasantries upon me while I kept
still--so still! I have never been so still but when I am up to
mischief. If ye could have seen under the table, I was shaking like a
jelly, but Esmeralda said, `I'll pack ye back as quick as ye came if you
spoil it on me, after all me trouble!'"

"Figure it to yourselves; I was sitting so _triste_ by myself in the
_salon_, thinking of you all at home, and the fun ye'd have without me,
and the slices of plum-pudding fried up the next day the way I like them
best, and never a bite to come my way, when behold I the door opened,
and there enters to me Marie, all smiles and complaisance. Everything
is altered, she bears a letter from Madame Hilliard--I must pack my box,
and say my farewells, and be ready to start by the train next day.
Fortunately all is ready. Therese has already prepared for my return.
There was nothing to do but lay the things in the box and drive away."

"And what did Therese say to it all? How did she and Per