Sarah nodded abruptly and turned to Leon who was busy ignoring both of them. Sarah was not a jealous woman in the ordinary way, but she had none of her husband’s excuse or reward for ignoring Annabel’s silliness. “Where is Rachel?” Sarah asked.

“I believe she has gone ahead into the grave yard,” Nell said.

“She loves a funeral,” Penelope, beside Nell, said. “Especially the burying part.”

Annabel put a hand lightly on Leon’s arm as if to ask support. “Is not death a sad thing? Even when it comes to those so full of years, who have all but worn out life’s ritual experiences and long since been forced to forego its pleasures.”

Leon stared at the young girl as earnestly as she did at him, but his thoughts were not on philosophy. Sarah turned away and found herself face to face with Casey Troy, whom she had not noticed inside the church.

“Mr. Troy!”

He bowed. “Mrs. Kendrick.”

“I had not thought to see you here,” she said.

He returned her look with seeming gravity. “I hope that means you had given a thought to not seeing me here this afternoon.”

“It is most feeling and generous of you to share our country sorrows. Did you portray the deceased?”

“I did not. I merely enjoy convivial occasions of all sorts, particularly when they put me in the way of seeing those who do not make themselves common in town society by showing themselves in regular afternoon promenade.”

“What an accomplished flirt you are.”

“It is a useful part of my trade.” He smiled, but his eyes mocked her a little.

“Of course,” she said, feeling a blush begin and trying to stop it. “Miss Annabel Davis has only this morning spread the happy tidings that you are to paint her portrait, news at which we must all rejoice, it seems. She enjoys flirting too—naturally, in an entirely innocent and harmless way.”

His eyes followed hers to her husband and the girl. “I admire children only as children and only then if they are admirable.”

Sarah could not help warming to the man, while she understood that he was being consciously charming and flattering. “I am told that you also are to paint Miss Doreen Davis, although she speaks more enthusiastically of a horse her father has promised her than of the projected portrait.”

“She sounds a most sensible girl. I should like to paint their grandmother, but she won’t hear of it. She has an interesting face, beautiful in its own way.”

“She is my dearest friend,” Sarah declared. “How very perceptive of you to see that beauty of hers.”

Casey Troy bowed slightly. “You do not mention that before or after the pair of Davis sisters I am to begin on the ladies of Beulah Land, and that I am to paint the master’s portrait as well.”