"Like it!" exclaimed the prince, gravely. "It is——" He stopped again, then turned to Margaret with almost solemn earnestness. "Miss Leslie, I am not an artist; I do not presume to be a critic, but I am convinced that this is a marvelous picture! It is, I think, a great work. I cannot tell you how it moves me! But there are others in the house who are more capable of judging and appreciating it. You will let me show it to them?"
Margaret flushed and then turned pale. She would have kept the picture to herself, for the present, at any rate; but then she considered the matter in the few seconds while he stood waiting. After all, she was an artist; it was by her art that she must exist, and it was well that her picture should be seen.
"I will do as you wish, prince," she said.
"No, not I, but you!" he said, gently, with a little thrill in his voice that touched Margaret, and made the princess turn and look at him.
"Take it, then," said Margaret.
He took it from the easel, and locked it in the cabinet carefully.
"And you will come down? You must!" urged Florence eagerly. "You must hear what they say. I know what it will be: they will say what Ferdinand said!"
"Very well," said Margaret, with a little sigh.
The princess clapped her hands.