"Jack, you must be dreaming!" his wife exclaimed.
"I don't understand at all," Lillian said, in great confusion.
"Could it possibly have been accidental?" A mischievous light shone in Mr. Morrison's eyes.
His wife shook her head at him, but Frances ran off to find the magazine. Miss Sherwin recovered herself, and explained with a great deal of dignity that, if it were so, it was quite accidental. That she had known Mr. Carter since they were children, and was, of course, very familiar with his face; then she said good evening, and left them.
"Very well done," Mr. Morrison exclaimed.
"Why, where is Miss Lillian," asked Frances, coming back; "I want to show her the picture. It is like Mr. Carter."
"Not now, dear,—another time," said her mother; adding, "You were aching to tease her, Jack, and I am glad she did not give you an opportunity."
Mr. Morrison laughed. "I suppose congratulations are next in order. It is at least a natural inference when you find a young man's image so deeply graven upon the heart of a young woman that she unconsciously reproduces it in her drawing."
"I am sure he is to be congratulated," remarked Mrs. Morrison.
"Unless I am very much mistaken, so is she," her husband added.