Jean shook her head. "I love to have her here."
She had taken off her hat, and as she bent above the child her hair made a halo of gold. In the midst of all the tawdriness she was a still and sacred figure—a Madonna with a child.
Teddy, when he reached home, told the General all about it.
"It was be-yeutiful—but Cousin Jean cwied—-"
"Cried?"
"I saw a tear rwunning down her cheek, and it splashed on Margaret-Mary's nose—"
And that night Derry said, "My darling, what shall I draw in our book?"
"The thing that you want most to remember, Derry."
So he drew her all in white, bending over a child of dreams.