“Miss Carrington,” he said, “permit me. You will admit my right to say this. I am thankful that you are making this overture. Will you go all the way and welcome Miss Dallas as your daughter? In all the world there is no other who would be to you what she would be. I shall be grateful if you can break down her scruples, make her give Kit his due, and you, with them, be happy ever after! It’s such a pity to waste a day of happiness in an uncertain world! Will you ease my mind by giving me this promise, Miss Carrington?” “Yes,” said Miss Carrington, gruffly. “I had already decided that I was a fool.” “Good news!” cried Richard, springing up and seizing her hands. “Ted, will you carry out your share of this programme, bring Anne to Miss Carrington--when, Miss Carrington?” “Now. I have a carriage waiting. Shall we go to fetch her? Little Anne may come. No one will see her costume in the carriage,” said Miss Carrington. Ted Wilberforce hesitated. He loved Anne, was impatient for her happiness, to see her trouble go, her joy come, but--Richard? He could not bear to leave him alone while they went on this errand. “Why not go alone, Miss Carrington? I’ll stay with Latham. You go to fetch Anne yourself. Take little Anne, but I stay here. It’s you and I together now, Dick, so I stay with you to-day,” he said. Richard went toward him and the two men met as Ted came forward from his easel. They put their hands on each other’s shoulders, and Miss Carrington felt her eyes grow moist. This was a love that passed the love of women, and it made itself felt as these two friends stood silent for an instant, giving and taking devotion. “All right, old Ted, stay with me,” was all that Richard said. “I’ll tell Anne Dallas he is not desolate, though she must know through her cousin,” thought Miss Carrington, profoundly thankful that Richard had this friend. Little Anne had looked on this scene and listened to what had been said with intense though puzzled interest. It was clear to her that she was to go with Miss Carrington in a carriage, to see Anne, but nothing else was clear to her. “Do I stop sitting, Mr. Wilberforce?” she asked. “For to-day. There needs but few more sittings, little Anne. The picture will be done in four or five more, I’m sure. Then it will be exhibited in New York, and people will wonder who is Edwin Wilberforce’s dark little Mystic! And only a few of us will be let into the secret that it is the smallest Anne!” Ted offered his hand to little Anne to help her down from the chair. She seized it and kissed it. “Doesn’t God send me the dearest people!” she sighed. Miss Carrington bore the child off with her, Ted seeing them to the carriage. He returned to Richard and to the putting away of his easel, brushes, and colours, and stood the wet canvas carefully against the wall on one of the bookcases.