Oliver opened his eyes in astonishment.
"That's just like John, bless his heart!" he answered slowly, as his glance sought the floor. This last drop had filled his cup of happiness to the brim— Some of it was glistening on his lashes.
"Now tell me your good news—" she continued, her eyes still dancing.
She had seen the look but misunderstood the cause.
Oliver raised his eyes—
"Oh, it's not nearly as good as yours, Madge, in one way and yet in another it's a heap better. What do you think? Old Peter Fish wants me to paint his daughter's portrait."
Margaret laid her hand on his.
"Oh, Oliver! Not Peter Fish! That's the best thing that has happened yet," and her face instantly assumed a more serious expression. "I know the girl—she will be an easy subject; she's exactly your type. How do you know?"
"Just saw John Snedecor in answer to a letter he wrote me. Fish has bought the 'Woman in Black.' He's delighted with it."
"Why, I thought it belonged to the Countess."
"So it did. She sold it."