Though he did not say so, Peter knew full well that Walter Lord had taken pains to keep an eye on the children of Anne Blakeslie. "They were interesting children, very interesting. All children and young people are, of course; but these two were more so than any I ever came in contact with. Rosamond was beautiful beyond anything I, or anybody, ever saw, I think. I used to delight in taking pictures of her. I could show you a dozen up in the gallery. And she was always more than glad to sit for me. She knew pretty well how she looked. Didn't need any one to tell her, and who could blame anything so lovely as that for knowing it was lovely? Might as well blame a water-lily that looks at itself all day in a pond.... But Anne, poor little Anne--she was always my favourite." Peter glanced up in surprise. That Anne Blake should have appealed, even as a child, to any one, least of all to this gentle, sweet old chap, was a decidedly new thought to him. Perhaps it was just because he was so gentle, Peter reminded himself, and because she was the daughter of Anne Blakeslie----Walter Lord went on, with a little laugh-- "She was always an odd little thing. I remember one time when Anne sent for me--her father was very ill; she had heard of it, and wanted me to take him a message. Well, I went up there, and little Anne, who must have been about five years old, happened to meet me, just at the edge of the woods, near the house. She was shy, and started to run, but I called her and told her my name and gave her some candy, one of those long peppermint sticks we used to like. She took it and thanked me very prettily, and then she ran on ahead, and I heard her say to her mother, in such a funny little awed tone, 'Mother! Mr. God's coming to see you.'" Peter laughed and the old man chuckled softly. "She certainly was an odd little thing--Anne. She was shy, naturally, and was not as fond of coming up into the gallery as her sister was, because she was afraid that I would want to take her picture, a thing she absolutely refused to let me do. I did entice her into the gallery sometimes, with books and candy, and some of the other little things that children love. I had an idea that it might be nice to get a photograph of her for her mother. I had plenty of Rosamond, but had never been able to overcome Anne's prejudice against sitting for me." "What a funny idea for a kid to have," said Peter, thoughtfully. "I know some boys would almost as soon go to a dentist as to a photographer, but I never knew a girl, of any age, who didn't love it."