"O! Mus! Look! Look!", cried Harold, who had ran across the room, and stood staring up at the wall in open-mouthed wonder.
Alma turned. With a cry of painful joy, she stood transfixed.
Over the mantle of the fireplace, hung a life-size painting of Will Lambert. The massive gold frame was a brilliant setting for a perfect likeness, which looked down upon them with the direct glance which gives a picture the semblance of life.
For a few moments she gazed into Will's fine dark eyes.
Harold, not removing his eyes from their new discovery, gradually edged up to his mother, and slipped his hand into hers.
"Mus, it's Daddy!" he said in an awed whisper. "Will he come back to us?"
Alma's arms encircled the boy and she pressed his curly head close to her without answering.
George came forward, and touched the boy's arm.
"Come, Harold. You know you promised to show Cousin George all your wonderful toys. I'm going to live here now."
"Always?" asked Harold eagerly, leaving his mother's arms.