Craig did not, and Uncle Zach continued: “Wall, she can,—nateral, too, as life. It’s a picter of that afternoon when we sot on the piazza and you read from that man Brown. We are all there, some plainer than others, and I’ll be dumbed if she didn’t draw me a noddin’, as Dot says I was, but I’d know myself in the dark, though I didn’t know I was quite so dumpy. I’ll get it and show it to you. We’ve had it framed and keep it hung up with Dot’s ancestors and the Boston tea party; seems appropriate seein’ ’twas a kind of party we was havin’. Here ’tis.” He handed Craig a sketch of a group on the north piazza, each one of which could be recognized. There was Helen gracefully reclining in the hammock, with her arm and hand hanging down as Craig remembered it,—Mark, with a quizzical expression on his face, standing by the corner,—Uncle Zach unmistakably nodding in his chair, and next to him, himself, with a collar which nearly cut his ears and so interested in the book he was reading that his interest showed on his face, and he could almost hear the sentence at which he stopped to find Helen asleep. Alice was the least conspicuous of the group. She was sitting on the steps with folded hands and looking off under the trees where there was a faint outline of a boy balancing himself on his head. Craig looked at her the longest, knowing she had not done herself justice, but seeing distinctly in his mind’s eye the graceful figure, the sweet face, the clearly cut features and blue eyes, which, apart from Helen’s more brilliant beauty, would be called very attractive. “Good, ain’t it? I wouldn’t take a dollar for it without the frame,” Uncle Zacheus said. Craig made no reply, but thought he wouldn’t take many dollars for it, if it were his. Giving it back to Mr. Taylor he asked if he knew what trains stopped at Rocky Point, and the name of Alice’s uncle. Uncle Zach said only the accommodations stopped there, and he didn’t know the name of the uncle. “Easy to find, though,—or she is, as she’s keepin’ school. Ask for the schoolmarm, but what are you goin’ off tomorrer for? Stay, and if the roads ain’t too bad, we’ll have a spin on the race track with Paul and Virginny. By the way, how is Dido?” “I don’t know. I’ve sold her,” Craig replied. “What under the canopy you sold Dido for? The nicest boss I ever seen unless it was Virginny when she was young,” Uncle Zacheus exclaimed. Craig could not explain that the principal reason for selling Dido was that she was connected with a part of his life he would gladly forget, and he gave another reason. “I don’t know as you know that once when I was driving her she was frightened at a baby cart and ran away with me. I have heard that horses when once they have run are apt to do so again, and I found it true with Dido. She seemed to be always looking for that cart till mother was afraid to ride after her. So I sold her where I knew she would be kindly treated.”