“Oh, they were, though,” insisted Lucia, with much earnestness. “I’m sure you couldn’t find one of them in any parlor in New York. Let me see: I do believe I could name them all, if I were to close my eyes a moment. There was ‘General Taylor at the Battle of Buena Vista,’ ‘The Destruction of Jerusalem,’ the ‘Declaration of Independence,’ ‘Napoleon’s Tomb at St. Helena,’ ‘Rock of Ages,’ ‘George Washington,’ Peale’s ‘Court of Death,’ ‘Abraham Lincoln and his Family,’ and ‘Rum’s Deadly Upas-Tree.’ There!” “Your memory is remarkable,” said Phil. “I didn’t suppose any one had even noticed our pictures at all; for I’m sure they are old-fashioned.” “Old-fashioned things,--why, they’re all the fashion now, don’t you know?” said Lucia, with a pretty laugh. Phil did not reply, for he was quite overpowered by what seemed to him the elegance of the Tramlay pictures. He could easily see that the engravings were superior in quality to those to which he was accustomed; he was most profoundly impressed by the paintings,--real oil paintings, signed by artists some of whose names he had seen in art-reviews in New York papers. He studied them closely, one after another, with the earnestness of the person whose tastes are in advance of his opportunities: in his interest he was almost forgetful of Lucia’s presence. But the young woman did not intend to be forgotten, so she found something to say about each picture over which Phil lingered. Among the paintings was one which had been seen, in the original or replicas, in almost all the picture-auctions which were frequently held in the New York business-district for the purpose of fleecing men who have more money than taste. Sometimes the artist’s name is German, oftener French, and occasionally Italian; the figures and background also differ from time to time as to the nationality, and the picture is variably named “The Parting,” “Good-By,” “Auf Wiedersehen,” “Good-Night,” or “Adieu,” but the canvases all resemble one another in displaying a young man respectfully kissing the hand of a young woman. The Tramlays’ copy of this auctioneer’s stand-by was called “Adieu,” the name being lettered in black on the margin of the frame. “Why,” exclaimed Phil, with the air of a man in the act of making a discovery, “I am sure I have seen a wood engraving of that painting in one of the illustrated papers.” “I don’t see why they should do it,” said Lucia; “it’s dreadfully old-fashioned. People don’t say ‘adieu’ in that way nowadays, except on the stage.” “I thought you said a moment ago that old-fashioned things were all the fashion.”