n retreating.

"Certainly," replied the lady.

"Mr. Greenleaf," said Easelmann, "I wish you to know some friends of
mine."

The gentleman so addressed turned and approached the party, and was
presented to "Miss Sandford, Mr. Sandford, Mrs. Sandford, and Mr.
Charles Sandford." Miss Sandford greeted him with her most fascinating
smile; her brother shook his hand warmly; the other lady, a widowed
sister-in-law, silently curtsied; while the younger brother inclined his
head slightly, his collar not allowing any sudden movement. In a moment
more the party were walking about the room, looking at the pictures.

When at length the Sandfords were about to leave the room, the elder
gentleman said to Mr. Greenleaf,--

"We should be happy to see you with our friend, Mr. Easelmann, at our
house. Come without ceremony."

Miss Sandford's eyes also said, "Come!" at least, so Greenleaf thought.

Mr. Charles Sandford, meanwhile, who was cultivating the sublime art of
indifference, the distinguishing feature and the ideal of his tribe,
only tapped his boot with his slender ratan, and then smoothed his silky
moustaches.

Greenleaf briefly expressed his thanks for the invitation, and, when the
family had gone, turned to his friend with an inquiring look.

"Famous, my boy!" said Easelmann. "Sandford knows something about
pictures, though rather stingy in patronage; and he is evidently
impressed. The beauty, Marcia, is not a judge, but she is a valuable
friend,--now that you are recognized. The widow is a most charming
person. Charles, a puppy, as every young man of fashion thinks he must
be for a year or two, but harmless and good-natured. The friendship of
the family will be of service to you."

"But Marcia, as you call her, was depreciating my picture not a minute
before you called me."

"Precisely, my dear fellow; but she didn't know who had painted it, and,
moreover, she hadn't seen you."

Greenleaf blushed again.

"Don't color up that way; save your vermilion for your canvas. You _are_
good-looking; and the beauty desires the homage of every handsome man,
especially if he is likely to be a lion."

"A lion! a painter of landscapes a lion! Besides, I am no gallant. I
never learned the art of carrying a lady's fan."

"I hope not; and for that very reason you are the proper subject for
her. Your simplicity and frankness are all the more charming to a woman
who needs new sensations. Probably she is tired of her _blase_ and