"I am sure I am not half so pretty as that! She makes me think of something— I don't know exactly what," and Frances wrinkled her brow in a puzzled way. She was completely fascinated, and continued to gaze at the portrait all the while Emma was talking to the woman who came to see her about the work, hearing nothing till her own name caught her ear.
"It is some relative of Miss Frances," was what she heard, evidently in reply to a question from Emma.
As soon as they were on the street she inquired who Miss Frances was, and Emma said she thought she was Mrs. Marvin, the lady who owned the house. "She is coming home before long, and they are getting ready for her," she added.
"I should like to have that picture," said Frances, with a sigh. "Emma, do you know what a Bohemian is?"
"I know what the 'Bohemian Girl' is; it is music."
"It can't be that, for mother said father wouldn't like it if I turned into one."
As Frances was unbuttoning her shoes that night she suddenly exclaimed, "Why, it is the little girl in the golden doorway!
"What is?" her mother asked.
"I mean that is what the portrait reminded me of. It has just come into my head. Isn't it funny?"
"Almost any portrait of a little girl might suggest it, I should think," said Mrs. Morrison.