wrong.

As a matter of fact, besides (although I never suspected it), he was
already seeking consolation with another of the muses, and pleasing
himself with the notion that he would repay me for my sincerity, cement
our friendship, and (at one and the same blow) restore my estimation of
his talents. Several times already, when I had been speaking of myself,
he had pulled out a writing-pad and scribbled a brief note; and now,
when we entered the studio, I saw it in his hand again, and the pencil
go to his mouth, as he cast a comprehensive glance round the
uncomfortable building.

"Are you going to make a sketch of it?" I could not help asking, as I
unveiled the Genius of Muskegon.

"Ah, that's my secret," said he. "Never you mind. A mouse can help a
lion."

He walked round my statue, and had the design explained to him. I had
represented Muskegon as a young, almost a stripling mother, with
something of an Indian type; the babe upon her knees was winged, to
indicate our soaring future; and her seat was a medley of sculptured
fragments, Greek, Roman, and Gothic, to remind us of the older worlds
from which we trace our generation.

"Now, does this satisfy you, Mr. Dodd?" he inquired, as soon as I had
explained to him the main features of the design.

"Well," I said, "the fellows seem to think it's not a bad _bonne femme_
for a beginner. I don't think it's entirely bad myself. Here is the best
point; it builds up best from here. No, it seems to me it has a kind of
merit," I admitted; "but I mean to do better."

"Ah, that's the word!" cried Pinkerton. "There's the word I love!" and
he scribbled in his pad.

"What in creation ails you?" I inquired. "It's the most commonplace
expression in the English language."

"Better and better!" chuckled Pinkerton. "The unconsciousness of genius.
Lord, but this is coming in beautiful!" and he scribbled again.

"If you're going to be fulsome," said I, "I'll close the place of
entertainment"; and I threatened to replace the veil upon the Genius.

"No, no," said he; "don't be in a hurry. Give me a point or two. Show me
what's particularly good."

"I would rather you found that out for yourself," said I.

"The trouble is," said he, "that I've never turned my attention to
sculpture--beyond, of course, admiring it, as everybody must who has a
soul. So do just be a good fellow, and explain to me what you like in
it, and what you tried for, and where the merit comes in. It'll be a