you can't go out by yourself."

Mae winced inwardly at this, but replied pleasantly: "I have letters to
write also, and I'm not in the mood to-day for pictures, and the cold,
chilling galleries filled with the damp breath of the ages."

So Edith and Albert, nothing loth, having discharged their duty, started
off. These two have as yet appeared only in the background, and may
have assumed a half-priggish air in opposition and contrast to Mae.
They really, however, were very interesting young people. Albert with
a strong desire in his heart--or was it in his head?--to aid the world,
and Edith with a clear self-possession and New England shrewdness that
helped and pleased him. Their travels were enriching them both. Edith
was trying to draw the soul from all the great pictures and some of the
lesser ones, and Albert was waking, through her influence, to the world
of art. This morning they were on their way to the Transfiguration to
study the scornful sister. They were taking the picture bit by bit,
color by color, face by face. There are advantages in this analytical
study, yet there is a chance of losing the spirit of the whole. So Mae
thought and said: "I know that sister now, Edith, better than you ever
will." This was while she was looping up her friend's dress here,
and pulling out a fold there, in that destructive way girls have of
beautifying each other. "See here!"

And down sank Miss Mae on her knees, with her lips curved, and her hands
stretched out imploringly, half-mockingly. No need of words to say:
"Save my brother, behold him. Ah, you cannot do it, your power is boast.
Yet, save him, pray."

"A little more yellow in my hair, some pearls and a pink gown, and you