Aunt Rose had gone to spend the day with a friend, and Aunt Lois, thinking it hardly kind to leave the two little girls at home, had decided to take them with her.

“He’s a fine artist, and one who has painted portraits of many distinguished people.  I hardly know if he is greatly interested in children, but he surely will be willing that you should enjoy his pictures, if you make no noise, and do not talk to disturb him,” she had said.

“Oh, if we may see the pictures, we’ll promise not to make the least bit of noise,” said Rose, speaking very loudly that Aunt Lois, who was quite deaf, might hear.

“Guess what he looks like,” said Rose, as they walked along beside Aunt Lois.

“Oh, I think he will be tall, and slender, with dark eyes, and wavy hair, and he’ll bow like this, when he lets us in,” Polly said, pausing on the sidewalk to make a very low bow.

“I don’t believe he’ll bow like that,” said Rose, “because he’s such a great artist.  He’ll feel pretty big.  I guess he’s not very light, or very dark, but I think he’ll be tall and some stout.  Don’t you know how the lawyer that lives on our street looks?  Just as if he owned all the houses on the avenue. I think he’ll give us a teenty little bow like this,” and she gave a jerky little nod, “but I think he’ll be quite nice to us after we are in.”

“This way,” said Aunt Lois, and they crossed the street, and stopped before a quaint looking building.  The massive oak door boasted a huge knocker, in the form of a frowning lion’s head that held a huge brass ring.

Aunt Lois lifted the ring, and let it fall clattering against the door.

The little girls wondered if the artist would be angry.  Could that knocker have made less noise?

Aunt Lois was so very deaf that she did not realize what a din she had made, and smiled serenely as she stood waiting.

Polly was just wondering if the artist were too offended to respond, when the door opened, and a tall, sturdy man, with his palette and brushes in his hand, welcomed them.

“Ah, you have come for your sitting, and you are prompt,” he said.

“I endeavored to be on time,” said Aunt Lois, “and, because my sister is away I’ve brought Rose and our little guest with me.  I can promise that they will not in any way disturb you.  Rose has often been here with me, but this is her little friend, Polly Sherwood.”

Mr. Arthur Kirtland welcomed her very graciously, and urged her to enjoy, with Rose, the pictures that hung upon the studio walls, stood upon easels, and around the room.

“We’ll walk about very softly, and may we go into the little room where the lovely children are, Mr. Kirtland?” Rose asked.

“Oh, surely,” he answered quickly, “you may like the child studies best.”

He meant what he said, and he also thought that if they were pleased with the pictures in the little room that led from the main studio, it would be quite as well.