Something dark and lingering like iodine had given her chin the double cross and her apron looked like the remnants of a porous plaster.
Her right hand had red, white, green, purple and magenta marks all over it, and her left hand looked like the Fourth of July.
"John!" she yelled; "here it is! My goodness, I am so excited!
See what a fine picture of you I took!"
She handed me the picture, but all I could see was a wood-shed with the door wide open.
"A good picture of the woodshed," I said; "but whose woodshed is it?"
"A wood-shed!" exclaimed my wife; "why, that is your face, John.
And where you think the door is open is only your mouth!"
I looked crestfallen and then I looked at the picture again, but my better nature asserted itself and I made no attempt to strike this defenceless woman.
Then she handed me another picture and said, "John, here is one I took of you and little Peaches!"
Little Peaches is the name of our baby.
We call her Little Peaches because that's what she is.