"No; I'm not. If he were, I doubt whether he'd have let himself go so
wrong."

"Perhaps it isn't too late," said the amateur missionary hopefully. "Is
he a man to whom one could offer money?"

The Bonnie Lassie's smile broadened without change in its subtle
quality. "Julien Tenney isn't exactly a pauper. He just thinks he can't
afford to do the kind of thing he wants and ought to."

"What ought he to do?"

"Paint--paint--paint!" said the Bonnie Lassie vehemently. "Five years
ago I believe he had the makings of a great painter in him. And now look
what he's doing!"

"Making marks on sidewalks, you mean?"

"Worse. Commercial art."

"Designs and that sort of thing?"

"Do you ever look at the unearthly beautiful, graceful and gloriously
dressed young super-Americans who appear in the advertisements, riding
in super-cars or wearing super-clothes or brushing super-teeth with
super-toothbrushes?"

"I suppose so," said the girl vaguely.