seen her? But you haven't, I know, unless you
met her abroad. She hasn't been in Boston for
years until now.''

``No, I haven't seen her. Is she so _very_
beautiful?'' Billy spoke a little soberly.

``Yes--and no.'' The artist lifted his head
alertly. What Billy called his ``painting look''
came to his face. ``It isn't that her features
are so regular--though her mouth and chin are
perfect. But her face has so much character,
and there's an elusive something about her eyes
--Jove! If I can only catch it, it'll be the best
thing yet that I've ever done, Billy.''

``Will it? I'm so glad--and you'll get it,
I know you will,'' claimed Billy, clearing her
throat a little nervously.

``I wish I felt so sure,'' sighed Bertram. ``But
it'll be a great thing if I do get it--J. G. Winthrop's
daughter, you know, besides the merit of
the likeness itself.''

``Yes; yes, indeed!'' Billy cleared her throat
again. ``You've seen her, of course, lately?''

``Oh, yes. I was there half the morning
discussing the details--sittings and costume, and