a tiny one that I took on Mount Vernon Street one windy spring morning."
He was galloping sturdily toward the camera, a joyous baby, with flying hair and outflung arms, his hat perilously far on the back of his head and his little white smock fluttering out behind him.
"He was two and a half," Elspeth said, "It was just before he was sick."
"If you've a duplicate of that, by any chance," said Joan, after a time of gazing at the picture, "I want it, please."
"Then there's a break," Elspeth explained, "when we weren't taking pictures; then there are a few the winter before we came out here. This is one that was taken in Jim's study. Garth was lying on the couch, looking at picture-books. You see, he couldn't hold the book himself, so Jim's holding it with one hand and correcting proof with the other. Hello! Here we are on the steamer—the same dear old Pettasantuck—going down to Quimpaug. Garth's lying on a seat with some pillows, and Jim's pointing out a boat, probably."
"And here's home!" Garth cried.
"Yes," Elspeth said; "the first picture of it. That was the old landing that went out in a big
