I will bear up even against that last misfortune!"
Dolly looked up at me pleadingly. "It was here in London," she went
on; "--when I was last with auntie. Medhurst was stopping in the
house at the time; and I took him twice, tete-a-tete with Aunt
Isabel!"
"Isabel does not paint," I murmured, stoutly.
Dolly hung back again. "No, but--her hair!" she suggested, in a
faint voice.
"Its colour," I admitted, "is in places assisted by a--well, you
know, a restorer."
Dolly broke into a mischievous sly smile. "Yes, it is," she
continued. "And, oh, Uncle Sey, where the restorer has--er--restored
it, you know, it comes out in the photograph with a sort of
brilliant iridescent metallic sheen on it!"
"Bring them down, my dear," I said, gently patting her head with my
hand. In the interests of justice, I thought it best not to frighten
her.
Dolly brought them down. They seemed to me poor things, yet well
worth trying. We found it possible, on further confabulation, by
the simple aid of a pair of scissors, so to cut each in two that
all trace of Amelia and Isabel was obliterated. Even so, however,
I judged it best to call Charles and Dr. Beddersley to a private
consultation in the library with Dolly, and not to submit the
mutilated photographs to public inspection by their joint subjects.
Pages:
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257