I've still my good right hand left, and we'll hope there's something in it yet--that'll be worth while." "But _this_ one isn't bad," stormed Billy.

"It's splendid! I'm sure, I think it's a b-beautiful portrait, and I don't see _what_ people mean by talking so about it!" Bertram shook his head.

His eyes grew sombre again.
"Thank you, dear.

But I know--and you know, really--that it isn't a splendid portrait.

I've done lots better work than that." "Then why don't they look at those, and let this alone ?" wailed Billy, with indignation.
"Because I deliberately put up this for them to see," smiled the artist, wearily.
Billy sighed, and twisted in her chair.
"What does--Mr.Winthrop say ?" she asked at last, in a faint voice.
Bertram lifted his head.
"Mr.Winthrop's been a trump all through, dear.