"That's a pity! Cousin Leslie and me often wants you; we shall never get husbands and leave off wanting you!"
Jean laughed merrily. "You can't tell, Sunnie. You are safe from one for a long time yet, but he may turn up one day!"
"Let me tell you a nice little plan of mine," said Sunnie, with an old-fashioned air. "I've thought of it for a long time. You must come to us soon again, and instead of my picture you must paint Cousin Leslie. Yes—" here she held up one small finger at the doctor—"you're not to confusion me by laughing! My painter shall do you, and I'll tell you how to sit. I shall have you sitting in a chair, and you'll be smelling a bunch of violets, and your hair must just be long enough, to curl up at the edge like I love to see it, and I'll put my fur rug over your feet, and you must be reading a book, and just looking up and pretending not to laugh. And do you know what the picture shall be called?"
"Let me see," said the doctor. "I should think it might be 'The Versatile Wonder.' I am to be smelling, and curling, and cowering under a rug, and sitting, and reading, and looking, and pretending. Don't you think I might be talking, and playing the piano, and walking, and—"
Sunnie stopped him severely. "You're to listen to me—this isn't your ten minutes! It's mine and my painter's. The picture shall be called 'The Man We Love.' And my painter shall write it underneath, and send it to the 'Cademy, and it shall be put next mine. That's what it shall be called, for it's quite true, isn't it?" She turned her blue eyes upon Jean for confirmation.
Certainly. Sunnie was good at bringing about embarrassing situations.
Jean's cheeks flushed crimson. She tried to pass it off.
"I'm afraid. I shall never get another picture into the Academy, Sunnie."
"No; but tell me, isn't the name of it nice. We do love him, don't we?"
Jean's eyes caught the doctor's. His sense of humour was stronger than his sentiment fortunately, and she laughed aloud meeting his amused glance.