caught the gleam which came into the dealer's eyes. It was
instantly masked.

"Too late in the spring for a picture show. Couldn't put on an
exhibition before next season."

"But why not have a private pre-exhibition showing?" Larry argued--"with
special invitations sent to a small, carefully chosen list, putting it
over strong to them that you were offering them the chance of a first
and exclusive view of something very remarkable. Most of them will feel
flattered and will come. And that will start talk and stir up interest
in your public exhibition in the fall. That's the idea!"

Again there was the gleam, quickly masked, in the dealer's eyes. But
Larry got it.

"How do I know this picture here isn't just an accident?--the only one
of the sort Mr. Hunt has ever painted, or ever will paint?" cautiously
inquired Mr. Graham. "You said you had a second picture. May I see it?"

Larry hesitated. But he believed he had the dealer almost "sold"; a
little more and Mr. Graham would be convinced. So he brought in Maggie's
portrait. The dealer looked it over with a face which he tried to keep
expressionless.

"How much is this one?" he asked at length.

"It is not for sale."

"It will bring more money than the other. It's a more interesting
subject."

"That's why I'm keeping it," said Larry. "I think you'll admit, Mr.
Graham, that this proves that Mr. Hunt is not now painting accidents."

"You're right." The mask suddenly dropped from Mr. Graham's face; he was
no longer merely an art merchant; he was also an art enthusiast. "Hunt
has struck something bold and fresh, and I think I can put him over.
I'll try that scheme you mentioned. Tell me where I can find him and
I'll see him at once."

"That picture has got to be sold before I give you his address. No use
seeing him until then; he'd laugh at you, and not listen to anything.
He's sore at the world; thinks it doesn't understand him. An actual sale
would be the only argument that would have weight with him."

"All right--I'll buy the picture myself. Hunt and I have had a falling
out, and I'd like him to have proof that I believe in him." Again Mr.
Graham was the art merchant. "Though, of course, I can't pay the five
thousand you ask. Hunt's new manner may catch on, and it may not. It's a
big gamble."

"What will you pay?"

"What you paid for it--three thousand."

"That's an awful drop from what I expected. When can you pay it?"

"I'll send you my check by an