“Only one thing, and perhaps that is not necessary after all. But doesn’t it seem to you that the space over the fireplace needs a picture or something? It looks so bare!”
“A picture! I had not thought of that. Yes, I see what you mean.”
“Just one picture,” went on Peter. “Something that will show well from this end of the room when people come in.”
“Yes, it would certainly be a distinct improvement. We’ll have a picture there.”
Peter raised his eyes shyly to his father’s face.
“I think it would be nice,” he said, “to have a picture of you.”
“A picture of me! Pooh, pooh! Nonsense! The men see me often enough—too often, I fancy. Remember they do not care for me as you do. No, indeed! I could not think of sticking my own portrait up in my tanneries. I shouldn’t want to see it myself.”
“I don’t suppose you would,” admitted Peter, reluctantly.
“But we’ll have a picture there all the same, Peter. Will you trust me to select it?”
“Of course I will. Just get something to do with sheep or horses—something that the men will enjoy and understand.”