There's one
of the first Lady Richanda, and one of the missing Rick. That's the best
of the lot, according to LeFleur. I saw a photograph of it once. Come to
think about it, Val looks a lot like the boy in the picture. He might
have sat for it."
They all turned to eye Val. He arose and bowed. "I find these
compliments too overwhelming," he murmured.
Rupert grinned. "And how do you know that that remark was intended as a
compliment?"
"Naturally I assumed so," his brother retorted with a dignity which
disappeared as the piece of corn-bread in his hand broke in two, the
larger and more liberally buttered portion falling butter side down on
the table. Ricky smiled in a pained sort of way as she attempted to
judge from her side of the table just how much damage Val's awkwardness
had done.
"If you were the graceful hostess," he informed her severely, "you would
now throw your piece in the middle to show that anyone could suffer a
like mishap."
Ricky changed the subject hurriedly by passing beans to Charity.
"So Val looks like the ghost," Charity said a moment later. "Now I will
have to go to town and see that portrait. Just where is it?"
Rupert shook his head. "I don't know. But it's listed in the catalogue
as 'Portrait of Roderick Ralestone, Aged Eighteen.'"
"Just Val's age, then." Ricky spooned some watermelon pickles onto her
plate. "But he was older than that when he left here.
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