An urgent invitation was sent to the Kendricks to ask them please to come and dine that evening, which Sarah and Leon and Rachel did. The viewing of the portrait was, of course, the first order of the impromptu party. Rachel’s exclamations were rewarding enough, but Annabel could hardly wait for the Clay sisters to see it. Leon, after studying the picture in something of a rapt trance, turned to the painter and said, “Sir, it is your masterpiece.” For a few seconds Annabel lost her aplomb and squealed with true fifteen-year-old delight. She even jumped up and down a couple of times, and rewarded Leon with a kiss on the cheek, which seemed acceptable enough in the heat of the moment.

“An excellent likeness,” Sarah agreed, and knowing she was not observed, let her eyes meet those of the painter. Casey Troy laughed out loud, which might have been interpreted as gratification at the enthusiastic reception given his work. In fact, his laughter came because he knew from Sarah’s eyes that she had seen exactly what he had done. Certainly the likeness he had painted flattered the sitter. Edna had been the first to see and say that. But Casey had done something more. By the degree he had exaggerated Annabel’s beauty, he had mocked it, and the expression he had given the eyes was purest mirror vanity.

“I don’t wonder,” Sarah said to Annabel, “that you burst into tears when you first saw it. To look upon such—a revelation is not a common experience.”

“Oh, Aunt Sarah, what a lovely thing to say!” Annabel cried and made a sort of ritual dart of affection toward the older woman, although their cheeks did not quite touch, and all that really did was Annabel’s hand on Sarah’s, and that but briefly. “I am certain that Mr. Troy will be able to make something very creditable out of you when your turn comes!”

This effrontery allowed Sarah to smile openly at Casey Troy with a clear conscience.

Casey’s portrait of Doreen took him longer than Annabel’s had done. She was not an easy subject, although she sat for him quietly, as if, had she spoken or laughed, the finished work would somehow reflect her lack of strict attention, and her father might withhold the promised horse. Doreen was between girl and woman, and that made her difficult for the painter to catch in a way that would not look absurd two years hence. Her facial features had not come clear: they were still disguised in youth-fat, youth-ambiguity. Casey talked to Doreen seriously about horses and gained her confidence by his knowledge and appreciation of them. When the picture was done, and Casey worked on it for nearly three weeks, Doreen was glad to be released from the chore of sitting. Annabel had followed its progress, not being committed this time to surprise at the finished product.