that the next thing was to paint it out and rub it out. “No,” said Berry; “what you want is a fresh eye on it. I've worried over it as much as you have,--suffered more, I believe,--and Barker can't tell whether he looks like a Roman Youth or not. Why don't you have up old Evans?” Miss Swan took no apparent notice of this suggestion; and Miss Carver, who left Berry's snubbing entirely to her, said nothing. After a minute's study of the pictures, Miss Swan suggested, “If Mr. Barker had any friends he would like to show them to?” “Oh no, thank you,” returned Lemuel hastily, “there isn't anybody,” and again he found himself turning very red. “Well, I don't know how we can thank you enough for your patience, Mr. Barker,” said the girl. “Oh, don't mention it. I've--I've enjoyed it,” said Lemuel. “Game--every time,” said Berry; and their evening broke up with a laugh. The next morning Lemuel stopped Miss Swan at the door of the breakfast room, and said, “I've been thinking over what you said last night, and I _should_ like to bring some one--a lady friend of mine--to see the pictures.” “Why, certainly, Mr. Barker. Any time. Some evening?” she suggested. “Should you mind it if I came to-morrow night?” he asked; and he thought it right to remind her, “it's Sunday night.” “Oh, not at all! To-morrow night, by all means! We shall both be at home, and very glad to see you.” She hurried after Miss Carver, loitering on her way to their table, and Lemuel saw them put their heads together, as if they were whispering. He knew they were whispering about him, but they did not laugh; probably they kept themselves from laughing. In coming out from breakfast, Miss Swan said, “I hope your friend isn't _very_ critical, Mr. Barker?” and he answered confusedly, “Oh, not at all, thank you.” But he said to himself that he did not care whether she was trying to make fun of him or not, he knew what he had made up his mind to do. Statira did not seem to care much about going to see the pictures, when he proposed it to her the next evening. She asked why he had been keeping it such a great secret, and he could not pretend, as he had once thought he could, that he was keeping it as a surprise for her. “Should _you_ like to see 'em, 'Manda?” she asked, with languid indifference. “I d' know as I care much about Lem's picture, s'long's we've got _him_ around,” 'Manda Grier whipped out, “but I _should_ like t' see those celebrated girls 't we've heard s' much about.” “Well,” said Statira carelessly, and they went into the next room to put on their wraps. Lemuel, vexed to have 'Manda Grier made one of the party, and helpless to prevent her going, walked up and down, wondering what he should say when he arrived with this unexpected guest.