"UNFORTUNATELY I'M NOT A MINIATURE PAINTER."
"Thanks awfully," returned Mr. Mitchell. "I don't know much about such things myself, but I thought it might make a sort of paper weight, or something useful like that." He looked at Gwen for appreciation.
She thanked him so profusely that Kenneth moved to further malice remarked to her. "I saw a lovely warming-pan painted with a wreath of roses, in Miss Zerviah Hackett's parlor the other day, and she has a sweet milking-stool tied with blue ribbons and painted with a wreath of daisies, so suggestive, don't you think? I asked her if it was her work, and she said no, it was done by a niece of hers from Lewiston who had taken lessons off of a Miss Somebody-or-other at school."
Gwen bit her lip. "I have seen them," she said. "Shall we walk on, or haven't you had enough of Pebbly Beach, Mr. Mitchell?"
"Oh, I have had enough if you have," he made reply.
"There are lovely sea-weeds here," said Gwen. "I must come gather some to use on menu cards. One can really arrange them beautifully with a little care.
"I hope, Mr. Hilary," she turned to Kenneth, "that you don't disapprove of that kind of art."
"I? Oh no. I quite agree with you that the sea-weeds are very decorative, and the delicate forms, preserved in some such way as you propose, are really worth looking at."