"Oh, yes, I remember; and so you have come to give me a sitting?"
"A what, sir?"
"A sitting, my child; to let me paint your eyes and hair."
"Please sir, I came to show you this; Raymond's ill;" and she held out the cherished picture.
THE GREAT ARTIST.
"Ah, yes; lay it down. I'll look at it presently; but, meanwhile, I must lose no time in transferring you to canvas. Now, then, take your place, so; your head a little more turned to the light." And in a few minutes, with easy, rapid strokes, the artist was progressing in his work.
"And what is your name, my little girl?" he asked presently.
"Madge Leicester," she replied softly.
"Your eyes have grown sadder than they were when I last saw you, Madge!" They were very sad then, for large tears were gathering in them, and rolling down the thin white cheeks.