“Oh, thank you so much!” she exclaimed as the squire of dames immediately dived for the belongings and restored them to her. “I would not loose my sketch book for worlds.”
“I should say not! I have a daughter who is very much interested in art,—in fact, she is studying in New York now,—her specialty is sculpture, though.”
“Yes, I know her! She is Dum Tucker!”
“You know my Dum! How wonderful! And how did you know she was—I was her father?”
“By your widow’s peak! I also know you are Dee’s father by your chin.”
Mr. Tucker changed his seat, taking the one by Judy.
“By Jove! You artists are a clever lot. You would make a great detective, Mrs. Brown. You must excuse me for knowing your name, but I heard you tell the captain what it was,—Mrs. Kent Brown. My girls have written me how kind you have been to them and I have been dying to make myself known to you, but was waiting for some kind of opening wedge.”
“And I, too, Mr. Tucker, have been wondering where I had seen you, when I found your girls’ pictures in my little book. See! Here they are!”
“And little Page, too!” He exclaimed eagerly scanning the sketches. “You are wonderfully clever at a likeness.”
“Do you think so? I—Mr. Tucker—I deliberately scraped up an acquaintance with you because I want you to do something for me,” and Judy looked frankly into the honest eyes of her new acquaintance.