He followed her in, full of curiosity.
She showed him the fruit, then picked up the basket. “Look in the mirror, not at me,” she commanded.
Reflected there in the clear glass, so still that she seemed fixed in paint, Baldy really gave for the first time an artist’s eye to the possibilities of his little sister. In the midst of all that crashing color——!
“Gosh,” he cried, “you’re good-looking!”
His air of utter astonishment was too much for Jane. She set the basket on the steps, and laughed until she cried.
“I don’t see anything funny,” he told her.
“Well, you wouldn’t, darling.”
She wiped her eyes with her little handkerchief, and sat up. “I am just dropping a tear for the ugly duckling.”
“Have I made you feel like that?”
“Sometimes.”