"Well; will you please come outside? And I will point
it out. It is the Florentine, there in the corner--
perhaps a reproduction, but it looks to me like the real
thing."

"It is a Florentine," answered Felix. "There are
two or three pictures in the Uffizi with similar frames,
if I recall them aright. Would you like a look at it?"

"I don't want to trouble you to take it out," said the
old man apologetically. "It might not do, and I can't
afford to pay much for it anyway. But I would like
to measure it; I've got an Academy picture which I
think will just fit it, but you can't always tell. No, I
guess I'll let it go. It's all covered up, and you would
have to move everything to reach it."

"No, I won't have to move a thing. Here, you
bunch of sunshine! Squeeze in there, Masie, dear,
and let me know how wide and high that frame is--
the one next the glass. Take this rule."

The child caught up the rule and, followed by Fudge,
who liked nothing so well as rummaging, crept among
the jars, mirrors, and candelabra crowding the window,
her steps as true as those of a kitten. "Twenty inches
by thirty-one--no, thirty," she laughed back, tucking
her little skirts closer to her shapely limbs so as to
clear a tiny table set out with cups and saucers.