“Oh, girls, come here!” Terry called. “Look at this! Is this your girl ghost, Dick?”
They hurried to Terry as she stood before the painting. Terry was in sharp contrast to the charming scene above. Feet planted a little apart, hands clasped behind her back, tall as she was, her head just came to the old, high mantel. The girl in the picture was also in riding clothes, but far different from Terry’s. They looked like a tableau: “The Past and Present.”
Terry wore smart riding trousers and a flaring coat. Her sandy hair was just showing beneath a well blocked hat.
The girl in the picture was dark-haired and tall. Her right arm was thrust through the reins of a black horse. The panniers of her dark-green riding costume seemed to melt into the leafy background of the painting.
The picture girl was staring straight at Terry and perhaps it was not entirely imagination that disclosed something akin in the two girls.
“What a charming picture you make!” Arden remarked, and then, as she saw that Terry was perhaps too delighted at the compliment, she added: “In this dim light we can’t see the freckles.”
Terry turned and, like a small boy, stuck a pink tongue out at Arden.
Dick, in the meanwhile, was looking thoughtfully at the girls. Sim went to him.
“Dick,” she said softly, “I can see that you somehow belong here. Won’t you tell us about it? We’ve been riding with you several seasons now, and we won’t repeat a thing if you don’t want us to.”
“Please,” begged Arden. “You look as sad as this house, Dick. What’s the matter?”