The wind whirled them over the street.
"Oh, what a pretty snow-storm!" said the little street children, looking up.
Then Arthur Merlin turned to his great easel, upon which stood the canvas of the picture of Diana and Endymion.

Through the parted clouds the face of the Queen and huntress--the face of Hope Wayne--looked tenderly upon the sleeping figure of the shepherd on the bare top of the grassy hill--the face and figure of Lawrence Newt.
The painter took his brushes and his pallet, and his maulstick.

He paused for some time again, as he stood before the easel, then he went quietly to work.

He touched it here and there.

He stepped back to mark the effect--rubbed with his finger--sighed--stepped back--and still worked on.