"Oh, no, it doesn't! _It's something to be worked from the inside._ Try
it again," said the photographer good-naturedly.

Something in his manner inspired faith, and she tried again, this time
with better success.

"That's good! That's fine! You look twenty years younger," exclaimed the
artist, as he caught the transient glow that illuminated the faded face.

She went home with a queer feeling in her heart. It was the first
compliment she had received since her husband had passed away, and it
left a pleasant memory behind. When she reached her little cottage, she
looked long in the glass and said, "There may be something in it. But
I'll wait and see the picture."

When the picture came, it was like a resurrection. The face seemed alive
with the lost fires of youth. She gazed long and earnestly, then said in
a clear, firm voice, "If I could do it once, I can do it again."

Approaching the little mirror above her bureau, she said, "Brighten up,
Catherine," and the old light flashed up once more.

"Look a little pleasanter!" she commanded; and a calm and radiant smile
diffused itself over the face.

Her neighbors, as the writer of this story has said, soon remarked the
change that had come over her face: "Why, Mrs. A., you are getting
young. How do you manage it?"