"Oh, no; I don't think he'd like it at all. In fact, I doubt if he'd
take it from me."

"Why not?"

"Well, you see," explained Julien blandly, "we're rather intimately
connected." He raised his voice. "Hello, Dad!"

The decorator furled his tongue, lifted his head, changed his crayon,
replied, "Hello, Lad," and continued his work. "What d' you think of
_that_?" he added, after a moment, triumphantly pointing a yellow crayon
at the green-headed red-bird.

"Some parrot!" enthused Julien.

"'T ain't a parrot. It's a nightingale," retorted the artist
indignantly. "You black-and-white fellows never do understand color."

"It's a corker, anyway," said Julien. "Dad here's a--an art patron who
wants to contribute to the cause."

The girl, whose face had become flushed and almost frightened, held out
her quarter.

"I--I--don't know," she began. "I was interested in your picture and I
thought--Mr. Tenney said--"

Peter Quick Banta took the coin with perfect dignity. "Thank you," said
he. "There ain't much appreciation of art just at this season. But if
you'll come down to Coney about June, I'll show you some sand-modeling