“Where is your curiosity?” she queried. “You have not even asked if I found the will.” “No, to be sure! And you did?” She shook her head. “I am quite convinced that it never existed.” “I presume you are right there. But I have found my curiosity, and am burning with desire to hear how you came to discover the other paper, to find your aunt, and--and all the rest of it. You remember that I know absolutely nothing of your history from the time of your leaving Cranley to this, except the few moments that we were together in Mr. Lea’s library.” “And I,” she returned, “am burning with desire to see those pictures, and to learn how they are to assist me in my quest. The story is too long to be told in an hour, Espy, with all the minute detail that I know you would require. So you shall have it at another time.” “Will you let me see you home, and spend the evening with you?” “Yes, if my aunt will spare me. She’s an invalid, and seems to value my society far beyond its real worth.” “Then her estimate must be high indeed,” he responded in the same playful tone. “But since it is your wish, fair lady, I will now conduct you to the Art Gallery and show you the pictures.” He led her out of the little dell up a flight of steps in the grassy bank, and together they traversed the winding paths and broad avenues that led to the Art Building, walking along side by side silently, yet only dimly conscious of the delicious summer air, the brilliant sunlight, the gay parterres, the crowds of people in the walks and passing up and down the broad, white marble steps of Memorial Hall as they ascended them. For once Ethel had utterly forgotten her quest, and did not look into a single one of the hundreds of faces she passed. But a bright little girl, standing at the foot of those same marble steps, and holding fast to the hand of a young man, was more observant. “What a pretty lady, Ellis!” she said, gazing after Ethel’s lithe, graceful figure as it flitted by. “And she looks like Dora. I thought it was at first, but she has another sort of dress on.” “Yes, Nan, it was a pretty face, and something like Dora’s, I thought too,” returned the lad. “You are tired, little sister, and yonder is an empty seat. Shall we go to it?” “Yes--no; see, they’re coming now.” Then letting go his hand, and running to meet a lady and gentleman who were sauntering toward them from the direction of the Main Building, “Papa and mamma,” she cried, “Ellis and I have been waiting a long time. Shall we go in now to see the pictures?” “It is growing late, Nan, and tea will be ready by the time we can get home if we start at once,” said the father. “Your mother is much fatigued, too--very tired indeed; so we will leave the pictures for another time.” “Well, I don’t care, if mamma’s tired,” said the child, putting her hand into his. Both parents smiled approval, and the little party walked away together toward the place of exit from the grounds.