I

“Please, sir, I’ve come to see to you,” announced the Very Small Person.

John Archibald turned from his easel, eyed the intruder with amazement, faintly tinged with alarm, and thought of laughing—but did not laugh. She was such a mere wisp of a child and so profoundly serious.

“Oh, you have, have you?” the painter remarked feebly. There was a solemn determination about this invader of his privacy that made him uncomfortably sure she would do whatever she had come to do.