"No; the picture was painted many years ago, in London, when my grandfather was Minister to England. My mother was an only child."
"I am an only child, too," Frances remarked, her eyes fixed on the portrait.
"Perhaps you will be interested to know that her name was the same as your own."
"Was it? And your name, too, is Frances, isn't it?"
"Yes, we are three of a name," was Mrs. Marvin's answer.
"I suppose—" Frances hesitated.
"What, dear?"
"I was going to ask if the little girl was alive now."
"No; she lived to grow up and marry, and died while she was still very young and beautiful, leaving three little children."
It was hard to realize that so much had happened to this bright-eyed girl; Frances wrinkled her brow in the effort, and sat very still. After a while she said, "I am glad her name was Frances; she always makes me think of the Girl in the Golden Doorway."