roof. When at length the natural perversity of the lamp had been
mastered and the metal shade replaced, George got a general view of the
immense and complex disorder of the studio. It was obviously very
dirty--even in the lamplight the dust could be seen in drifts on the
moveless folds of the curtains--it was a pigsty; but it was romantic
with shadowed spaces, and gleams of copper and of the pale arms of the
etching-press, and glimpses of pictures; and the fellow desired a studio
of his own! He was glad, now, that Mr. Buckingham Smith had invited them
in. He had wanted to keep Marguerite Haim to himself; but it was worth
while to visit the studio, and it was especially worth while to watch
her under the illumination of the lamp.

"Lucky we have a clean tablecloth," said Mr. Buckingham Smith, opening
his packages and setting a table. "Brawn, Miss Haim! And beer, Miss
Haim! That is to say, Pilsener. From the only place in Chelsea where you
can get it."

And his packages really did contain brawn and beer (four bottles of the
Pilsener); also bread and a slice of butter. The visitors learnt that
they had happened on a feast, a feast which Mr. Buckingham Smith had
conceived and ordained, a feast to celebrate the triumph of Mr. Alfred
Prince. An etching by Mr. Prince had been bought by Vienna. Mr.
Buckingham Smith did not say that the etching had been bought by any
particular gallery in Vienna. He said 'by Vienna,' giving the idea that
all Vienna, every man, woman, and child in that distant and enlightened
city where etchings were truly understood, had combined for the
possession of a work by Mr. Prince. Mr. Buckingham Smith opined that
soon every gallery in Europe would be purchasing examples of Alfred
Prince. He snatched from a side-table and showed the identical authentic
letter from Vienna to Mr. Alfred Prince, with its official heading,