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Updated: June 3, 2025
And when Hastings left his easel and came around, he nodded toward the astonished Laffat. "This man has been disagreeable to you, and I want to tell you that any time you feel inclined to kick him, why, I will hold the other creature." Hastings, embarrassed, said, "Why no, I don't agree with his ideas, nothing more."
"There is a nouveau here," drawled Laffat, leaning around his easel and addressing his friend Bowles, "there is a nouveau here who is so tender and green and appetizing that Heaven help him if he should fall into a salad bowl." "Hayseed?" inquired Bowles, plastering in a background with a broken palette-knife and squinting at the effect with approval.
"His name," continued Laffat, hurling a bit of bread at the hat-rack, "his name is Hastings. He is a berry. He knows no more about the world," and here Mr. Laffat's face spoke volumes for his own knowledge of that planet, "than a maiden cat on its first moonlight stroll." Bowles now having succeeded in lighting his pipe, repeated the thumb touch on the other edge of the study and said, "Ah!"
"He was correct," said Clifford from his easel in front. "What what do you mean?" demanded Laffat, turning red. "That," replied Clifford. "Who spoke to you? Is this your business?" sneered Bowles, but nearly lost his balance as Clifford swung about and eyed him. "Yes," he said slowly, "it's my business." No one spoke for some time. Then Clifford sang out, "I say, Hastings!"
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