"I didn't know you had more than one suit," remarked the artist, with a flourish of her brush; "you can't properly say 'clothes.'"
"Well, 'clo', then," retorted the Ensign, "if it suits you better; but some day you'll see me in a brand-new uniform."
"It's what I'm living for," answered Beatrice. "Somebody get me some more water."
A dozen hands were outstretched, but it was Forsyth who secured the cup, and he was rewarded with a radiant smile when he returned.
"Ain't that smart, now!" exclaimed the trader, delightedly, as the unmistakable features of Black Partridge appeared upon the paper. Chandonnais was grinning broadly, and even Ronald and the Lieutenant condescended to praise.
"To think that we've had a real artist here for months and never knew it!" exclaimed Mrs. Franklin. "Why didn't you let us know about it before?"
"Because," answered the girl, "as an old lady at Fort Mackinac would have said, I didn't 'feel to paint.'"
Mrs. Mackenzie was restraining the children with difficulty, for each and every one of them yearned to take a brush and assist in the delicate task. At last she took the baby and went into the house, leaving Maria Indiana to Katherine, and the two older children to their father and Forsyth.
"There," said Beatrice, with a critical squint at her work; "it's almost done."
Against a background of delicate green, the Indian, in his scarlet blanket, stood boldly and properly pictured. The colouring was very good and she had caught the spirit of the pose.