willow to hang your harp on," said Isabel, saucily; "it would be so convenient."

"You've spoiled it now," said the photographer; "did not I tell you not to speak or move till I gave you leave?"

"I could not help it," said Isabel; "I'll do better next time. But, Allan, you must tryste them to come to our place, and I hope my father and mother will get taken as well as the house, only I doubt we'll not be home to urge it. Write a letter to send by them," continued Isabel. "I suppose I've spoiled this one too, but it came into my head."

A third attempt was more successful, though it was not by any means so striking a picture as Amy's. "It will do," said Allan. "I think your Prince Charlie is rather better than Amy's Brownie; but that's maybe because one does not look so much at the horse in this picture."

"As a work of art," said the photographer,"I never did anything so much to my liking as that. I quite congratulate myself on the idea, and I think I have done justice to my subject."

Mr. Lufton declared that both idea and execution were admirable; he had never seen Amy look so charming before. After all it was only brother and sister attachment between her and Allan. She spoke of the beautiful present he