Page:Mistress Madcap Surrenders (1926).pdf/18

 while an old lady, cozily ensconced in an arm chair near-by, benignly watching the artist over a pair of gray socks she was knitting, was also garbed in homespun. It was a comfortable scene. Only the fire in the great fireplace seemed to roar defiance to the snow-threatening sky outside the window.

Finally, the old man, sighing, took up his paint brush once more and applied it gingerly to the painting. Then, leaning back, he squinted professionally through his half-closed fist. Soberly, the two sisters imitated him, though they could not see that it helped in the least. One eye of the horse most assuredly was out of place—no amount of squinting could alter that!

At last, Dame Wright startled everyone. At her merry laugh, the three hands dropped and three sheepish faces turned to meet her quizzical glance.

"Ma faith—an yo' knew hoo queerlike yo' all looked!" she chuckled. "A body wad think yo' were a' at sea, makin' spyglasses oot o' yer hands sae!"

Her husband looked over at her reproachfully. "Noo, Mither," he answered in an injured tone, tis thus the real artists always do! Dinna yo' ken we were doin' nobbut lookin' at you sign sic Hitty, here, said ain eye o' the horse were higher than t'other!" Leaning forward, he dabbed hastily for a moment, then he glanced triumphantly at Mehitable. "Noo, Hitty—hoo be it?"