It chained Flora's wondering attention as quite new. It was a
young man with his chair tipped back; his feet rested on a table, with
a slipper perched on each toe. His hands were clasped upon the back of
his head. The face--really, I was angry at the diabolical expression
given it by eyes looking askance, and lips pressed into an arch by a
contemptuous smile. It was a corner of this very brown sheet that I
saw under her arm, when she vanished from the kitchen as I entered;
the vociferous mirth which attracted me was at my expense. Before
Flora could recognize my portrait, Little Ugly pounced upon it; it
fell in a crumpled lump into the bright little wood fire, and ceased
to exist.
"I had totally forgotten it," said she, with a blush which avenged my
wounded self-love. Ironical pleasure at having been the subject of her
pencil I could not indulge myself in expressing, as I did not care to
enlighten Little Handsome. Any lurking pique was banished when Etty
showed me, with a smile, the twilight view by the pond.
"Do you draw?" she asked; and Flora cried, "He makes caricatures of
his friends with pen and ink; let him deny it if he can!"
I was silent.
***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUTUMN LEAVES***
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