should go up to the studio when she could leave her work for a minute.

"Come alone--by yourself," he added in a low voice.

Wondering a little at the singular request and the peculiar expression
of Malcom's face, Bettina soon followed him.

Entering the studio, she found him attentively regarding a small canvas
which he had placed on an easel, and took her place beside him that she
might look at it also.

"How lovely!" she cried, and then a puzzled look came into her eyes.

"Why, it is Barbara! It is _like_ Barbara," she added.

"And what do you think of this--and this--and this?" asked Malcom,
rapidly turning from the wall study after study.

After a few moments of silence, she said solemnly: "They're all Barbara.
Here she is thinking earnestly; here she is throwing her head proudly
back, as she so often does; and here she is merry and smiling in her own
adorable way. O you darling Barbara!" with a pathetic little catch of
the breath; "how are you feeling just this minute?" and Bettina sank
upon the floor beside the pictures, looking as if she longed to hug them
all.

"But what does it mean?" persisted Malcom.

"What do _you_ mean?" springing up with a quick look into his eyes.
"You--foolish--boy!" as an inkling of Malcom's meaning crept into her