er dark hair falling around her
glowing cheeks, in terror of being caught and banished and punished; but
ardent and determined, she had nevertheless braved her father's
displeasure. Bella fixed her eyes on the sculptor and said rapidly--

"Excuse me for coming to father's party, but I am in a great hurry. I
want to speak to you about my Cousin Antony. He is a great genius," she
informed earnestly, "a sculptor, just like you, only he can't get any
work. If he had a chance he'd make _perfectly beautiful_ things."

The other gentleman put out his hand and drew the child to him. Unused
to fatherly caress, Bella held back, but was soon drawn within the
Canon's arm. She held out her treasures: "He did these," and she
presented to Cedersholm the white cast of her own foot.

"Cousin Antony explained that it is only a cast, and that anybody could
do it, but it _is_ awfully natural, isn't it? only so deadly white."

She held out a sheet of paper Fairfax had left at the last lesson. It
bore a sketch of Bella's head and several decorative studies. Cedersholm
regarded the cast and the paper.

"Who is Cousin Antony, my child?" asked the Canon.

"Mother's sister's son, from New Orleans--Antony Fairfax."

Cedersholm exclaimed, "Fairfax; but yes, I have a letter from a Mr.
Fairfax. It came while I was in France."

The drawing and the cast in Cedersholm's possession seemed to have found
their home. Bella felt all was well for Cousin Antony.

"Oh, listen!" she exclaimed, eagerly, "listen to our blackbird. Isn't it
perfectly beautiful?"

"Divine indeed," replied the clergyman. "Are you Carew's little
daughter?"

"Bella Carew. And I must go now, sir. Arabella is my real name."

She slipped from under the detaining arm. "Nobody knows I'm up. I'll
lend you those," she offered her treasures to Cedersholm, "but I am very
fond of the foot."

It lay in Cedersholm's hand without filling it. He said kindly--

"I quite understand that. Will you tell your Cousin Antony that I shall
be glad to see him?"

"Oh, thank you," she nodded. "And he'll be _very_ glad to see you."

Cedersholm, smiling, put the cast and the bit of paper back in her
hands.

"I won't rob you of these, Miss Bella. Your cousin shall make me
others."

As the little girl ran quickly out it seemed to the guests as if the
blackbird's song went with her, for in a little while Jetty stopped
singing.

"What a quaint, old-fashioned little creature," Cedersholm mused.