“I don’t know, my dear,” said Constance. “HAVE you?”
It was a photograph of Sophia taken a few years previously by ‘a very nice gentleman,’ whose acquaintance the sisters had made during a holiday at Harrogate. It portrayed Sophia on a knoll, fronting the weather.
“It’s Mrs. Scales to the life—I can see that,” said Lily.
“Yes,” said Constance. “Whenever there was a wind she always stood like that, and took long deep breaths of it.”
This recollection of one of Sophia’s habits recalled the whole woman to Constance’s memory, and drew a picture of her character for the girl who had scarcely known her.
“It’s not like ordinary photographs. There’s something special about it,” said Lily, enthusiastically. “I don’t think I ever saw a photograph like that.”
“I’ve got another copy of it in my bedroom,” said Constance. “I’ll give you this one.”
“Oh, Mrs. Povey! I couldn’t think—!”
“Yes, yes!” said Constance, removing the photograph from the page.
“Oh, THANK you!” said Lily.