Its little weight, its anchor.
dream lines.
TWO or three days passed over without the children seeing anything more of the life of the pictures. They had gone to bed that night after the party, with the promise of a story held out to them, to soften the pang. Yet morning came after morning, and always found them with the usual everyday life. Lessons through the day, walks, and readings aloud in the evenings, and nothing more to reveal that hidden life. Now Clare could almost think it had been a dream. Yet the boys vowed it was real, and Bim had proof of it.
Raeburn.
THE LESLIE BOY.
“Don’t you think there is a deepening of the shadow in the face in the Raeburn in the drawing-room?” said the children’s Father one evening. “The Leslie boy, I mean.”
“I think there is,” said their Mother; “it has a glass. Can the dirt get in?”
Bimbo listened, and the recollection of a fight with Leslie, came vividly before him. Leslie had a black eye distinctly, and Bim’s fist had blacked it. So how could there be the least doubt that the picture people were alive? They must just wait, they told each other; and so the days passed on.