stylishly dressed hair. You posed so easily, so perfectly, and your
expression was so precisely the one I wanted, and your patience in
keeping the pose was so wonderful, that I thought you had really caught
the spirit of the thing, and were anxious to help me achieve my really
great picture."

"I have--I will pose for you as long as you wish," she cried penitently,
"and I will braid my hair on wire, and then it will stand out better."

"Good! You are a dear, amenable little girl. To-morrow afternoon we will
resume. Here, let me loosen your braids. Goodness, what thick strands!"

She stood by the open window, and the trembling, marginal lights of a
setting sun sent gleams and glints of gold through her loosened hair
which fell like a flaming veil about her.

"Amarilly," exclaimed Derry rapturously, "I never saw anything quite so
beautiful. Some day I'll paint you, not as a scrub-girl nor as a
waitress, but as Sunset. You shall stand at this window with your hair
as it is now, and you'll outshine the glory of descending Sol himself. I
will get a filmy, white dress for you to pose in and present it to you
afterward. And as you half turn your head toward the window, you must
have a dreamy, reflective expression! You must think of something sad,
something that might have been a tragedy but for some mitigating--but
there, you don't know what I am talking about!"

"Yes, I do, Mr. Derry. I know what you mean, even if I didn't ketch--"

"Catch, Amarilly; not ketch."