h nearly closed eyes, with his head thrown back, or turned
in every side angle his fat neck would permit: peered through his
half-closed fist; peeped through funnels of paper; sighted over and under
his open hand or a paper held to shut out portions of the painting;--the
others _thought_ they saw him expertly weighing the evidence for and
against the merit of the work. In _reality_ it was his _ears_ and not his
_eyes_ that helped the critic to his final decision--a decision which was
delivered, at last, with a convincing air of ponderous finality. Indeed it
was a judgment from which there could be no appeal, for it expressed
exactly the views of those for whose benefit it was rendered. Then, in a
manner subtly insinuating himself into the fellowship of the famous, he,
too, turned to Conrad Lagrange with a scholarly; "Do you not agree, sir?"

The novelist answered with slow impressiveness; "The picture, undoubtedly,
fully merits the appreciation and praise you have given it. I have already
congratulated Mr. King--who was kind enough to show me his work before you
arrived."

After this, Yee Kee appeared upon the scene, and tea was served in the
studio--a fitting ceremony to the launching of another genius.

"By the way, Mr. Lagrange," said Mrs. Taine, quite casually,--when, under
the influence of the mildly stimulating beverage, the talk had assumed a
more frivolous vein,--"Who is your talented neighbor that so charms Mr.
King with the music of a violin?"

The novelist, as he turned toward the speaker, shot a quick glance at the
Artist. Nor did those keen, baffling eyes fail to note that, at the
question, James Rutlidge had paused in the middle of a sentence. "That is
one of the mysteries of our romantic surroundings madam," said Conrad
Lagrange, easily.

"And a very charming mystery it seems to be," returned the woman. "It has
been quite affecting to watch its influence upon Mr. King."

The artist laughed. "I admit that I found the music, in combination with
the beauty I have so feebly tried to out upon canvas, very stimulating."

A flash of angry color swept into the perfect cheeks of Mrs. Taine, as she
retorted with meaning; "You are as flattering in your speech as you are
with your brush. I assure you I do not consider myself in your unknown
musician's class."

The small eyes of James Rutlidge were fixed inquiringly upon the speakers,
while his heavy face betrayed--to the watchful novelist--an interest he
coul