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“Oh, it’s me, isn’t it, Jean? I wish you’d conventionalized me and embellished me. I’d like to look glamorous and sophisticated. That’s lovely, specially with the nose screwed up that way and my forehead wrinkled. I like that, it’s so subtle. Anyone getting one good look at the helpless frenzy in that downcast gaze—”

“Oh, Kit, be good,” laughed Jean. She held the sketch away from her critically. “Looks just like you.”

“OK, hang it up as ‘Exhibit A.’ I don’t mind. There’s a look of genius to it at that.”

“Naturally, I had to include that too,” replied Jean teasingly. Just then Mrs. Craig came into the room.

“Mom, look what my sister has done to me,” Kit cried tragically. Jean said nothing, only the color rose slowly in her cheeks as her mother stood looking at it.

“It’s the first since I left school,” she said, half-ashamed of the effort and all it implied.

“Finish it up, dear, and let me have it.”

“Oh, would you really like it, Mom?”

“Love it,” answered her mother promptly. “And don’t give up hope. Perhaps we may be able to squeeze in the spring term after all.”