"Where is Annabel?" asked Mrs. Kent. "She ought to go home. It is growing late."
Annabel, forgotten, had been amusing herself behind the screen with a scrap of drawing paper and a yellow crayon. Discovered, she held up her sketch.
"Ain't that a nice picture?" she demanded.
She had drawn, in wavering lines, a high stone wall, where a cat was sitting, gazing at the setting sun. The cat's whiskers and the sun's fierce rays met.
"There's a great deal of literature in that," commented Howard Stanton, "and it's modern, quite in the poster style."
"It is very much in your line," suggested Anne. "You ought to teach Annabel. I think that she would be a disciple."
"I should like to," replied the young man. "Do you want to learn to draw, Annabel?"
"Yes, please," responded the child.
"Now we shall see," said Anne gayly,
