Oh, that was at the Lorna Doone Farm, Hoagland. Don't you remember? That English family was there, too, and she was so snippy and the hen jumped right up on the table—the same day you snapped the church"
"No, I don't mean that day, I mean the other one"
"Oh, the other one! Oh! Well, maybe, but I thought this— Well, it doesn't matter—still, I'm sure— Oh, here's Anne Hathaway's cottage, Aunt Kate! That one didn't come out very well; it was such a dark day. Who is that by the gate, dear?"
"Hmm. Let's see. Isn't that that Miss Prendergast?"
"What Miss Prendergast? Oh, you mean Miss Spottiswood. Maybe it is; it's so black I can't make it out"
"Here's one that will appeal to Aunt Kate's artistic eye, Charlotte."
"Let's see, dear—which? Oh yes! Look, Aunt Kate! Two little peasant children leaving a bunch of wild flowers at a wayside shrine. Will you ever forget the time you had making them pose naturally, Hoagland? They were just as stiff as pokers, but Hoagland just kept at them"
"Aunt Kate certainly did enjoy the pictures, dear," Charlotte said to Hoagland as they motored home to their new Spanish-Italian house with its sun porches and green-tiled roof. "I like to do any little thing
