asked to swallow a non-skid headache
tablet. At last he gets out this bleat about how he'd always held his
art to be too sacred a thing for him to commercialize and he really
didn't know whether he could bring himself to drawin' ad. pictures or
not. He'd have to have time to think it over.

"Very well," says Mr. Robert, restrainin' himself from blowin' a fuse as
well as he could. "Let me know tomorrow night. If you decide to take the
place, come over about 6:30; if you find that your views as to the
sacredness of your art are too strong, you needn't bother to arrive
until 8:30--after dinner."

I expect it was some struggle, but Art must have gone down for the full
count. Anyway the Beans were on hand when the tomato bisque was served
next evenin', and in less'n a week F. Hallam was turnin' out a perfectly
good freehand study of a lovely lady standin' graceful beside a
Never-smoke oil stove--no-wicks, automatic feed, send for our
catalogue--and other lively compositions along that line. More'n that,
he made good and the boss promised him that maybe in a month or so he'd
turn him loose with his oil paints on something big, a full page in
color, maybe, for a leadin' breakfast food concern. Then the Beans moved
back to town and we heard hardly anything more about 'em.

I understand, though, that they sort of lost caste with their old crowd
in Greenwich Village. Hallam tried to keep up the bluff for a while that
he wasn't workin' reg'lar, but his friends began to suspect. They
noticed little things, like the half pint of cream that was left every
morning for the Beans, the fact that Hallam was puttin' on weight and
gettin' reckless with clean collars. And finally, after being caught
coming from the butcher's with two whole pounds of lamb chops, Myrtle
broke down and confessed. They say after that F. Hallam was a changed
man. He had his hair trimmed, took to wearin' short bow ties, and when
he dined at the Purple Pup, sneaked in and sat at a side table like any
tourist from the upper West Side.

Course, on Sundays and holidays he put on the old velvet coat, and set
up his easel and splashed away with his paints. But mostly he did heads
of Myrtle, and figure stuff. It was even hinted that he hired models.

It must have been on one of his days home that this Countess Zecchi
person discovered him in his old rig. She'd been towed down there on a
slummin' party by a club friend of Mr. Robert's who'd heard of Hallam
and had t