“Paint pictures, I mean!  You know I did!  Of course, I never meant her face!  But what sort of work is she fond of?  What are her talents?  I am sure you must know that!”

“Well, now, I really don’t believe I ever asked her what she likes to do best, and she is so unselfish that it would not be fair to judge her by what she is actually doing when I happen to see her, for I am sure that some of her self-imposed tasks are far from pleasant to her.  I have heard her called her mother’s right hand.  I suppose you know what that means, Miss Gussie?”

Dexie raised her eyes for one moment, but dropped them when she saw Traverse looking at her intently.  She was glad it was not a fashionable belle he had chosen for his wife, for she knew what a position she must hold if she was “her mother’s right hand.”  That term told a long story to one initiated into its duties.

“But I am not going to let you off with such a general answer, Mr. Traverse,” was Gussie’s persistent reply, “so tell me at least one thing that you have seen her engaged in when you called upon her.”

“Well, really, Miss Gussie, you fairly puzzle me, for I can’t think of the name of the work which I see her at most frequently,” and he looked up as if reflecting on the matter; then glancing over to Dexie, who sat by the side table with a mending basket near, he added, “Oh! now I remember it.  It is ‘family mending,’ I believe you call it.  You just put me in mind of it, Miss Dexie,” as Dexie raised an astonished pair of eyes to his face.

A sudden thought struck her, though she instantly refuted the idea, and despised herself for entertaining it for a fraction of a moment; but Guy had witnessed the flush that spread over her face as he uttered the words.

“Oh! how poetic!” and Gussie laughed heartily.  “She must be, like Dexie, also, the housekeeper of the family, or at least the eldest daughter in it.”

“Why, I thought you were twins, Miss Gussie,” said Mr. Traverse, in surprise.

“Well, so we are as to age, but Dexie is years older than I am in other things.  She has left the vanities and other worldly things behind her years ago.”

“I wish you could see the fine affair that Dexie works at when she sits up with me at night.  Where is it, Dexie?  Bring it out and let us all have a look at it,” said Mr. Sherwood, who had listened in silence to the discussion, and did not wish Traverse to think that Dexie was ignorant of this particularly feminine employment.

“Oh! never mind it just now, papa; I would rather not show it,” she replied.  But seeing that she had somehow disappointed him, she added, with a smile, “Wait till it is done, papa.  It is not easy to judge the looks of an unfinished piece of work.  Perhaps I will be able to finish it in time to make it a wedding present to Mr. Traverse.”  Traverse looked at her with such a happy smile on his face that she made some excuse to turn her chair about, and her fingers trembled so she could scarcely guide the needle.