ings. Even here I owe a few schillings. If
I could sell some of my sketches--"

"Perhaps," suggested Mrs. Nougat-Jones, "if you were to offer them for a
little less, some of us would be glad to buy a few. Ten shillings is
always a consideration, you know, to people who are not over well off.
Perhaps if you were to ask six or seven shillings--"

Once a peasant, always a peasant. The mere suggestion of a bargain to be
struck brought a twinkle of awakened alertness into the artist's eyes,
and hardened the lines of his mouth.

"Nine schilling nine pence each," he snapped, and seemed disappointed
that Mrs. Nougat-Jones did not pursue the subject further. He had
evidently expected her to offer seven and fourpence.

The weeks sped by, and Knopfschrank came more rarely to the restaurant in
Owl Street, while his meals on those occasions became more and more
meagre. And then came a triumphal day, when he appeared early in the
evening in a high state of elation, and ordered an elaborate meal that
scarcely stopped short of being a banquet. The ordinary resources of the
kitchen were supplemented by an imported dish of smoked goosebreast, a
Pomeranian delicacy that was luckily procurable at a firm of
_delikatessen_ merchants in Coventry Street, while a long-necked bottle
of Rhine wine gave a finishing touch of festivity and good cheer to the
crowded table.

"He has evidently sold his masterpiece," whispered Sylvia Strubble to
Mrs. Nougat-Jones, who had come in late.

"Who has bought it?" she whispered back.

"Don't know; he hasn't said anything yet, but it must be some American.
Do you see, he has got a little American flag on the dessert dish, and he
has put pennies in the music box three times, once to play the
'Star-spangled Banner,' then a Sousa march, and then the 'Star-spangled
Banner' again. It must be an American millionaire, and he's evidently
got a very big price for it; he's just beaming and chuckling with
satisfaction."

"We must ask him who has bought it," said Mrs. Nougat-Jones.

"Hush! no, don't. Let's buy some of his sketches, quick, before we are
supposed to know that he's famous; otherwise he'll be doubling the
prices. I am so glad he's had a success at last. I always believed in
him, you know."

For the sum of ten shillings each Miss Strubble acquired the drawings of
the camel dying in Upper Berkeley Street and of the giraffes quenching
their thirst in Trafalgar Square; at the same price Mrs.