"Yes," she said, as he hesitated, "certainly ask him to come and see us. I shall be very glad to see him."
"And my grandfather?" asked Jean slowly. "Did he mention me at all."
"I cannot say he did. He made no response when I told him what you were doing."
"I shall never be forgiven," said Jean. "Would you like to see my picture of little Sunnie, Colonel Douglas? Miss Lorraine made me promise to show it to her this afternoon."
She left the room to get it. Colonel Douglas stood up by the fire and looked down upon Miss Lorraine, with a smile of content.
"Jean's character is developing," she said. "She is growing out of that heedlessness and irresponsibility. Her thoughtfulness and patience in a sick-room has filled me with astonishment."
"She was very young when we took her in hand," said the Colonel, smiling. "I think her emancipation was a success; she would have become bitter and self-centered, had she stayed with her uncle."
Jean returned, and with the help of Susan, got her large canvas into the room. When she threw back the covering over it, Miss Lorraine caught her breath.
The picture glowed with life and colour. Sunnie lay back amongst her cushions with the firelight playing over her face and cloud of golden hair. Her little face seemed almost to be alive, the eyes were looking upwards with that peculiar mixture of dancing fun and sweet seriousness, her mouth was slightly parted, and her attitude was that of a listener to the unseen.
As Jean looked at it a lump came into her throat. It brought back with a rush those happy hours in the firelight.