Eugene de Blaas paintings

It would be stranger if they weren't," said Marilla crisply. Now that all was safely over, Marilla was herself again.
"Oh, I know--but it seems as if they couldn't be quite finished, you know--and they are, even to the tiny nails. And his hands--just look at his hands, Marilla."
"They appear to be a good deal like hands," Marilla conceded.
"See how he clings to my finger. I'm sure he knows me already. He cries when the nurse takes him away. Oh, Marilla, do you think--you don't think, do you--that his hair is going to be red?"
"I don't see much hair of any color," said Marilla. "I wouldn't worry about it, if I were you, until it becomes visible."
"Marilla, he has hair--look at that fine little down all over his head. Anyway, nurse