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 deep shadow. Hm! How are you going to treat it?"

"I hope, Miss Lynde," he replied, with dignity, "you don't think me capable of treating even a—er—landscape otherwise than courteously!"

"Well, hadn't you better begin?" she asked, viewing her own subject with half-closed eyes.

"Perhaps I had. Um-m-m, let—me—see." He looked through the odds and ends contained in the discarded box. "Do you happen to have a piece of charcoal that's not working? I seem to have omitted my charcoal this morning. I always prefer to—er—just sketch in a little before I stick on the paint."

"Here is a piece," she answered. He looked rather disappointed, but arose and took it from her outstretched hand and seated himself