"Well, it might be worse."
"Oh, I say! Sweetly pretty!" the mother exclaimed.
"If only, I think"
"What?" Stephensen asked and looked up.
"No, perhaps I'm wrong, and it is impertinent of me to make suggestions."
"Not at all! A fresh eye easily discovers something, and you know the face better than I do."
"I think the chin ought to be larger."
"Really?" Stephensen measured, rubbed out and corrected, bent forward in order to see, and altered again. "Yes, indeed, it improves it; I even think it might stand a little more. You have a good eye, Minna!"
"Perhaps you ought also to let the Adam's apple be a little more prominent, it is so characteristic in him. Just see how it has helped!"
I got up, curious to see my own likeness. The drawing was only lightly sketched, but firm and true in the lines. As one does not know oneself in profile, I could not have much opinion as to the likeness. But Minna was satisfied, and it secretly pleased me that she had taken a small part in the finishing touches. Stephensen's smile betrayed the childish pleasure that an artist always feels when he has succeeded in something. He signed and dated it, loosened the leaf with his penknife and gave it to Minna.
"Thanks!" she said heartily, but without showing any surprise. "It pleases me immensely! There is something much more satisfactory in such a drawing than in a photograph—more charm. I don't know quite how it is, but I believe it makes me think of olden days, when everybody did not have dozens of photographs of themselves to distribute among their friends and acquaintances,
