Sinclair bowed and sat down, and Patty sat for a moment in awestruck silence.
Then, “The Hobbema!” she cried, “I won’t take it! The idea of giving me that painting! Why, it’s one of the gems of the house!”
“That’s why we want you to have it, Patty dear,” said Grandma Cromarty, gently. “It is one of our treasures, and for that very reason it is worthy to be presented as a souvenir to one who so gloriously deserves it.”
“Hear! Hear!” cried Bob. “Grandy makes a better speech than you, Clair.”
Patty’s scruples were lovingly overcome, and she was made to realise that she was the owner of a real masterpiece of art, that would be to her a lifelong delight.
“But what will take its place?” she said. “It has hung there so many years.”
“It hung there,” said Mrs. Hartley, “until its mission was fulfilled. Now that there is nothing to be searched for ‘between the fir trees and the oak,’ it need hang there no longer. It is fitting that we retain the ‘oak’ and you possess the ‘fir trees,’ thus assuring an everlasting bond of union between the fir trees and the oak.”
“Bravo, Mater!” cried Bob. “You’re coming out strong on speechifying, too. Mabel, we must look out for our laurels.”
But Mabel was too near the verge of tears to trust her voice, so she slipped her hand in Patty’s, knowing that she would understand all that could not be said.
“Well,” went on Bob, “I’m not much of an orator, but I’ll take it for my part to see that the Fir Trees are properly packed and sent to your home, Patty. Where shall I send the box?”