shock-headed young fellows with neighboring studios,
prophesied great things for her, partly because she was beautiful, and
partly because her work, as far as she had gone in it, was really good.
What she lacked, they said, was inspiration, experience, and knowledge
of life. When these things came to her in due time, her technique would
be quite equal to expressing them.

Wilmot's dream of being much in Barbara's studio proved negotiable only
as a dream. Barbara began a fountain for her father's garden at
Clovelly, and during the modelling of the central figure the studio was
no place for a modest young man. He had one glimpse through the
half-open door of a girl with very red hair and very white skin, and he
turned and beat a decided retreat, blushing furiously. He did not repeat
his visit to her studio until Barbara assured him that the nymph had put
on her clothes and gone away. Then, much to his disgust, he found there
a young fellow named Scupper, who smoked a vile pipe and had dirty
finger-nails and was allowed to make himself at home because he had
recently exhibited a portrait bust that everybody was praising (even
Wilmot) and because he had volunteered during a delightful contemplation
of Barbara's face to do her portrait and tell her all that he had
learned from his great master, Rodin.

The little beast had the assurance of the devil. He praised, blamed,
patronized, puffed his pipe, and dwelt with superiority on topics which
are best left alone, until Wilmot wanted to kick him downstairs.
Scupper, aware of Wilmot's dislike for him, and thoroughly cognizant of
its causes, did his best to goad the "young prude" (as he chose to
consider him) into open hostility. He strutted, boasted, puffed, and
talked loosely without avail. Wilmot maintained a beautiful calm, and
the more he raged internally the more Chesterfieldian and gorgeously at
ease his manners became. Barbara enjoyed the contest between the terrier
and the Newfoundland hugely. Personally she disliked Scupper almost as
much as she liked Wilmot, but artistically she admired him tremendously
and felt that his judgments and criticisms were the most valuable things
to be had in the whole city.

Wilmot not only kept his temper, but outstayed his antagonist. The
latter gone, he turned upon Barbara, and she in mock terror held up her
hands for mercy; but Wilmot was not in a merciful mood.

"When you imagine that you are uplifting the cause of art, Barbs, are