itin' good these days, an' mebbe ye'll enjoy
it."

Aunt Lissy soon followed and Albert was left alone with Telly. It looked
intentional, but he was no less grateful for it. For a few moments he
watched her, still intent on her work, and wondered what was in her
mind.

"Have you finished my sketches?" he said finally, feeling that was the
most direct avenue to her thoughts.

"Not quite," she replied, "I had to go up to the cove to work on one in
order to satisfy myself, and a good many days it was too rough to row up
there, so that hindered me. I have that one finished, though, and the
other almost."

The thought that this girl had rowed four miles every day in order to
paint from the original scene of his sketch struck him forcibly.

"May I see the finished one?" he asked.

She brought it, and once more he was surprised. Not only was the picture
of herself sitting in the shade of a low spruce reproduced, but the
fern-decorated boat near by, the quiet little cove in front, and a view
of ocean beyond.

It was a charming picture, and vividly recalled his visit there with
her.

"There is only one thing lacking," she said shyly, as he held it at an
angle so the firelight would shine upon it, "and I didn't dare put that
in without your consent."

"I do not notice anything left out, as I recall the spot," he answered.

"But there is," she replied, "and one that should be there to make the
picture correct. Can't you guess?"

He looked at Telly's face, upon which a roguish smile had come, but it
did not dawn on him what she meant.

"No, I can't guess," he said; "tell me what is lacking?"

"Yourself," she replied.

It was a pretty compliment, and coming from any one except Telly he
would have doubted its sincerity.

"But I do not want the picture to remind me of myself," he answered, "I
wanted it so I could see you and recall the day we were there." She made
no reply, and he laid it on the table and asked for the other one. It
was all done except the finishing touches, but it did not seem to be a
reproduction of his original sketch at the cove.

"I took the liberty of changing it a little," she said as he was looking
at it, "and put in the background where you said you first saw me."

"It was nice of you to think of making the change," he replied quickly,
"and I am very glad you did. I wanted it to portray you as I first saw
you."

A faint flush came into her face at this, that did not escape him, and
as