"Oh yes," said Jessie; "he brought them all the way up to me. Poor fellow!"
"Why do you call him that?"
"It seems so severe for him, having her stay away at such a distance, and for so long. He's dreadfully in love with her."
"Yes, I know he is," Lance confessed. "Those times when I was with him so much, and you hardly liked it, I was talking with him about her and trying to console him. He let me into his confidence, and told me how he was afraid he had driven her from him and should never get her back. But Sylv used to send an encouraging message, now and then. Has he sent any more?"
"Sylv has hardly written at all," said Jessie.
Lance mused aloud: "That's strange."
"Yes," responded his sweetheart, in a tone as if she were about to say more; but she did not go on.
At this point Lance thought it best to bring forward his little surprise. Excusing himself, he went to his room and came back with the drawing. "By the way," he began, reseating himself, "I wonder if Adela has changed much in looks, under the influence of education. It would be curious to see her, wouldn't it?"
"I saw her," said Jessie, "just before she went back, after you left us, at Christmas."
"Well, then, you can tell. What do you think of this?" And her lover produced the portrait.