The artist went to a closet, and produced two small pictures unframed. One was an English country landscape, pretty in design, and executed, as Paul thought, with taste.
"I like that," he said.
"The other is better," said Mr. Henderson.
He exhibited the other canvas. It was a simple sketch of a brother and sister on their way to school. The faces were bright and pretty, the attitudes natural and graceful, and all the details were well carried out.
"You are right," said Paul. "This is the best picture. The girl's face looks familiar. It is your own little girl, is it not?"
"Then you see the resemblance?"
"Yes, it is very like, but——"
"But it represents a blooming, healthful child, while my poor Mary is thin and pale. Yet when the picture was painted, before I left England, it was an exact likeness. You see what privation and the bad air of the city have done for her."
"She will look like it again. A few weeks will bring her back."
"I hope so."