"Oh, Kenneth!" Gwen held out her hand eagerly for the small canvas. "Ora was just grieving because they have no photograph of him. You dear boy to think of coming with it."
"I worked it up a little," said Kenneth, "so it is still wet, but I thought I'd try to make it less of a sketch. Do you think it is like him?" He held off the picture at arm's length.
Gwen looked at it earnestly. "It is very like," she told him. "You have caught his happy, careless expression. He was a good-looking lad, poor boy. May I take it in? Will you go, too?"
"I'll wait outside for you."
She carried the picture carefully to the sitting-room, and set it on a chair where the light could strike it. Then she touched the forlorn figure whose face was still hidden in Almira's lap. "Ora," she said, "look here, dear. You see there does sometimes come some small comfort in our darkest hours. Mr. Hilary has brought you a little picture he made of Manny. Will you look at it? Mrs. Green, you, too, please. It is still wet and must not be touched for a day or two."
Ora sprang to her feet, and gazed with sobbing breath at the picture of Manny leaning against the railing of the boat-landing, his hat pushed back from his smiling face, his hands in his pockets, the whole attitude one of careless ease. So had his friends seen him often. "It is Manny," whispered Ora, "Manny. Aunt Almira, do see."
"Aunt Almira," murmured Mrs. Green. "Some one still calls me that." She raised her eyes, leaned forward and looked long and earnestly at the picture, then the blessed relief of tears came to her. She dropped her head on Ora's shoulder and shook with sobs. The act of dependence aroused Ora to a sense of responsibility. "There, there," she whispered, "don't take on, Aunt Almira. We've got each other, and we loved him."
Mrs. Green wiped her eyes. "Please thank the gentleman," she said. "It was very kind of him."
"There ain't a thing we'd sooner have, please tell him," said Ora. "It's wonderful." It was hard for these people to say even so much. Thanks were not easily expressed, obligations were rarely admitted. Gracious acceptance did not come naturally, but Gwen felt that they were sincerely gratified.
"I'll tell Mr. Hilary," she said, "and I know he will be glad you like the picture. He would not come in."