picters if I was you." He took down the mirror and laid it between two
cushions, holding it in place while he reached for the knot. "I don't
suppose you have the least idee how you look," he said. "I cal'ate to
have you look a sight better'n that 'fore Sergia sees you."

The artist's face flushed. "Give me the glass."

Uncle William shook his head. "I've got to hustle to get these things
done." He drew the sailor's knot firmly in place. "I cal'ate to have
everything ready so 's to get an early start."

"She wouldn't mind how I looked," said the young man, defensively.

"Mebbe not." Uncle William was gathering together the trifles from the
shelf and table, and knotting them in a table-spread. "You want to save
this out?" he asked indifferently. It was a picture of the girl in an
oval frame.

The young man seized it. He was looking at it with warm eyes.

Uncle William glanced down on them from his height. "Mebbe not," he said
gently, "but I reckon she'd hate to see ye lookin' like that. It's about
all I can stan' to see ye, myself."




XVI

The girl looked up from her copying. Uncle William stood in the doorway,