“Oh—I know just where it is,” answered Hester. “You must have seen it—why, I set it up on the toilet-table, on one side of the looking-glass, turned to the light.”
“Well—it’s not there now,” said Crowdie, “because I’ve just looked.”
“I’m sure it’s there,” replied Hester, going towards the door. “Nobody could have moved it.”
“Go and see, darling—I assure you I’ve looked everywhere for it, and I don’t believe it’s in the room at all.”
It was one of those absurd little discussions which occur between two people, the one who has seen, and the other who believes. Hester left the room rather impetuously, being absolutely sure that she was right. She, also, left the door open behind her.
“Can’t I button your glove for you?” asked Crowdie. “I saw that Hester was doing it when I came in.”
Crowdie’s touch was intensely disagreeable to Katharine, but she held out her hand to him, in spite of the fact. Just then, she felt that she should almost prefer to let him do it, rather than let Hester help her. She was standing in the middle of the room, half turned away from the door.
“I thought you would like to see the sketch,” said Crowdie, fastening the button nearest to her wrist with his deft, pointed fingers, skilful as any woman’s. “I did it on a board last night—just a crayon thing from memory, with an old photograph to help me. Hester thought it was very like. If you approve of it, I’ll paint a picture from it.”
“I wish you would!” answered Katharine. “There never was anything good of him—I should so like to have something—”
She checked herself, having momentarily forgotten that Crowdie had been a very heavy loser, through his wife, by the decision in the case of the will, and that he could hardly be expected to make a present to one of her family, under the circumstances.