“I didn’t say I painted it, and it isn’t exactly painted anyway; but it’s a portrait of you, and it looks more like you than anything Hepworth could possibly do.”
“Then it must be a photograph! but why should you give me a photograph of myself? Is it in a frame?”
“Yes, a pretty little Florentine frame.”
“Then the gift is really the frame; but I don’t see why you put my photograph in it; and anyway I didn’t know you had a picture of me. Pray, where did you get it?”
“I’ll show it to Ruth,” said Kenneth, “if you’ll promise not to look; for I don’t want you to see it until after you’ve expressed your opinion of Mr. Hepworth’s portrait.”
Kenneth unwrapped a parcel, and taking care not to let Patty see, Ruth looked at the contents.
“Oh,” she said, “I don’t think that looks like Patty!”
“Do you think it’s prettier than she is?” asked Kenneth, smiling.
“No,” replied Ruth, smiling, too; “I don’t think it’s half as pretty as Patty.”
“Well,” said Kenneth, “I don’t like to differ with you, but do you know, I think Patty will say that it looks exactly like her, and that it doesn’t flatter her a bit.”