“It was mother’s picture that pulled me back to Beulah, I don’t mind telling you,” said David, his mouth twitching.  “Don’t you see it?”

“Oh!  Is that your mother?” And Dick scanned the card closely.

“Don’t you remember her portrait that always hung there after she died?”

“Yes, of course!” And Dick’s tone was apologetic.  “You see the face is so small I didn’t notice it, but I recognize it now and remember the portrait.”

“Then the old sitting-room!” exclaimed David.  “Look at the rag carpet and the blessed old andirons!  Gracious!  I’ve crawled round those Hessian soldiers, burned my fingers and cracked my skull on ’em, often enough when I was a kid!  When I’d studied the card five minutes, I bought a ticket and started for home.”

David’s eyes were suffused and his lip trembled.

“I don’t wonder,” said Dick.  “I recognize the dear old room right enough, and of course I should know Letty.”

“It didn’t occur to me that it was Letty for some time,” said her brother.  “There’s just the glimpse of a face shown, and no real likeness.”

“Perhaps not,” agreed Dick.  “A stranger wouldn’t have known it for Letty, but if it had been only that cape I should have guessed.  It’s as familiar as Mrs. Popham’s bugle bonnet, and much prettier.  She wore it every winter, skating, you know,—­and it’s just the color of her hair.”

“Letty has a good-shaped head,” said David judicially.  “It shows, even in the card.”

“And a remarkable ear,” added Dick, “so small and so close to her head.”

“I never notice people’s ears,” confessed David.

“Don’t you?  I do, and eyelashes, too.  Mother’s got Letty’s eyelashes down fine.—­She’s changed, Dave, Letty has!  That hurts me.  She was always so gay and chirpy.  In this picture she has a sad, far-away, listening look, but mother may have put that in just to make it interesting.”

“Or perhaps I’ve had something to do with the change of expression!” thought David.  “What attracted me first,” he added, “was your mother’s verses.  She always had a knack of being pious without cramming piety down your throat.  I liked that open door.  It meant welcome, no matter how little you’d deserved it.”

“Where’d you get your card, Dave?” asked Dick.  “It’s prettier than mine.”

“A nurse brought it to me in the hospital just because she took a fancy to it.  She didn’t know it would mean anything to me, but it did—­a relapse!” And David laughed shamedfacedly.  “I guess she’ll confine herself to beef tea after this!—­Where’d you get yours?”

“Picked it up on a dentist’s mantelpiece when I was waiting for an appointment.  I was traveling round the room, hands in my pockets, when suddenly I saw this card standing up against an hour-glass.  The color caught me.  I took it to the window, and at first I was puzzled.  It certainly was Letty’s house.  The door’s open you see and there’s somebody in the window.  I knew it was Letty, but how could any card publisher have found the way to Beulah?  Then I discovered mother’s initials snarled up in holly, and remembered that she was always painting and illuminating.”