That is what she looked like when she was a very little girl; and you are her image.

I'm glad I came back here now; something seemed to whisper to me that it was best, and I know it was her dear spirit speaking to my heart." The child took the little locket and glanced at the face it contained, at the same time uttering a cry of delight.
"Why, it is my picture.

But you said it was your mother--that must have been my Aunt Jessie! And you are my cousin, then?
I have heard grandpapa speak of you.

But you don't look bad, and he said----" and there she suddenly stopped, while Owen's face flushed angrily with a sudden wave of resentment.
"What did he say--I want you to tell me ?" he asked imperiously.
"I wish I hadn't spoken--he said you were a willful, headstrong boy--there; but I think he didn't know you," she answered, clinging to his hand in a confiding way that gave Owen the joy of his life.
With that he laughed, this time aloud.
"I guess he knows the Gregory spirit all right.

I am headstrong; yes, and willful, too, for I wouldn't be a Gregory otherwise.