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Lord! if what you fellows say in your pictures is true, the whole earth must be blazing and burning and glowing and " Hawker went into a rage. "Oh, you don't know anything about colour, Hollie. For heaven's sake, shut up, or I'll smash you with the easel." "Well, I was going to tell you what Grace wrote in her letter. She said " "Go on." "Gimme time, can't you?
That?" he shouted, pointing thrust-way at it "that? It's vile! Aw! it makes me weary." "You're in a nice state," said Hollanden, turning to take a critical view of the painter. "What has got into you now? I swear, you are more kinds of a chump!" Hawker crooned dismally: "I can't paint! I can't paint for a damn! I'm no good. What in thunder was I invented for, anyhow, Hollie?"
"You don't, eh?" cried Hollanden scornfully. "Well, let me tell you, young woman, there is a great deal of truth in it. Now, there's Hawker as good a fellow as ever lived, too, in a way, and yet he's an artist. Why, look how he treats look how he treats that poor setter dog!" "Why, he's as kind to him as he can be," she declared. "And I tell you he is not!" cried Hollanden. "He is, Hollie.
My meaning is very plain, Hollie. I supposed the words were clear enough." "Yes," he said thoughtfully, "your words were clear enough, but then you were of course referring back to some event, or series of events, in which I had the singular ill fortune to displease you.
"Hollie is there, too," whispered Grief. "Billie is unlocking the door. Now they're going in. Hear them cry out, 'Oh, isn't it lovely! Jinks!" He began a noiseless dance about the room. "Jinks! Don't I wish I had a big studio and a little reputation! Wouldn't I have my swell friends come to see me, and wouldn't I entertain 'em!"
A man in your condition why, confound you, you are an infant!" Hawker seemed again overwhelmed in a great dislike of himself. "Oh, well, of course, Hollie, it " He waved his hand. "A man feels like like " "Certainly he does," said Hollanden. "That's all right, old man." "And look now, Hollie, here's this Oglethorpe " "May the devil fly away with him!"
Finally, a white-flannel young man walked into the landscape. Hawker waved a brush. "Hi, Hollie, get out of the colour-scheme!" At this cry the white-flannel young man looked down at his feet apprehensively. Finally he came forward grinning. "Why, hello, Hawker, old boy! Glad to find you here."
Hollanden seemed plunged in mournful reflection again. "Well, it's a shame, Grace, anyhow," he observed, wagging his head dolefully. "It's a howling, wicked shame." "Hollie, you have no brains at all," she said, "despite your opinion." "No," he replied ironically, "not a bit." "Well, you haven't, you know, Hollie."
It was about your treatment of your friends." "Well," he said sagely, "it only goes to show that there is nothing impersonal in the mind of a woman. I undertook to discuss broadly "Oh, Hollie!" "At any rate, it was rather below you to do such scoffing at me." "Well, I didn't mean not all of it, Hollie." "Well, I didn't mean what I said about the dog and all that, either." "You didn't?"
"Oh, hurry up, Hollie!" they cried, because with his great load he frequently fell behind them in the march. He once positively refused to carry these things another step. Some distance farther on the road he positively refused to carry this old truck another step. When almost to the inn he positively refused to carry this senseless rubbish another step.
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