"Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. Her soft brown eyes, inherited from Larry, warmed an already pretty face. What!— you know so little of that child? She ran away from you. "What is all this, dear Winny?" inquired Thames, as soon as they were alone. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. He'll settle it bravely. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. "Hush!" she said, putting her lean fingers to her lips.
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