"I am in a newspaper, mother," she said, "only imagine that!" Mrs. Brace sighed, as she generally did in answer to Doris. The girl was far above her comprehension, and she owned it humbly with a sigh. "What do they say, I wonder? Oh, there is a letter from Mr. Leslie!" She opened it hastily, then read aloud: "MY DEAR MISS BRACE,--Need I tell you my picture is the great success of the season? All London is talking about it--the papers are filled with its praise. See how much I have to thank you for! There is even a greater honor than all this praise in store; the queen has signified her gracious desire to purchase my picture! My fortune is made; the face that made sunshine at Brackenside will now shine on the walls of a royal palace. No one admires it more than your sincere friend, "GREGORY LESLIE." "There!" cried the girl, triumphantly, "the queen--even the queen is going to buy me!" "Not you, child," said Mrs. Brace, rebukingly--"only your picture." "It is all the same thing; the queen must have admired, or she would not have wished to purchase it." "Gregory Leslie is a grand artist," said Mattie. "Surely some merit is due to him." Doris laughed, as she always did at her sister's admonitions. "If he had painted you, my dear," she said, laughingly, "I do not think the queen would have bought the picture." Mattie made no reply, knowing well that in all probability it was true. Then Doris opened the papers, and read the critiques one after another; they were all alike--one rapture of praise over the magnificent picture. "'Innocence' is the great picture of the day," said one. Another asked: "Where had Mr. Leslie found the ideally beautiful face so gloriously placed on canvas? Had he drawn it from the rich depths of glowing fancy, or had he seen a face like it?" Another paper told how the queen had purchased the picture, and foretold great things for the artist. "It is _really_ true," said Doris. "I shall be in a palace. Oh, Mattie! I am so sorry that no one will know it is a picture of me; they will admire my portrait, and no one will see me. I should like to go to the queen and say: 'That is my picture hanging on your palace wall.'" "She would not speak to you," said Mrs. Brace, who took all things literally. "Hundreds of beautiful faces are placed upon canvas every day," said Mattie; "and I do not suppose any one cares for the models they are painted from." "I wish I were my own picture," sighed Doris. "I would a thousand times rather hang upon a palace wall than live here." Then she suddenly remembered how uncertain it was, after all, whether she should be here much longer; in the excitement of reading so much in her own praise, she had almost forgotten Lord Vivianne. As she remembered him her face grew burning red. "I am glad you have the grace to blush," said Mattie. "You are so vain, Doris, I should be afraid that your vanity would lead you astray."