Charles welcomed her with effusion.

"Where have you been, child, all this time? I thought you must have
flitted entirely."

Doris explained--while she set up her easel--that for the first time in
their lives she and Arthur had been seeing something of the great world,
and--mildly--"doing" the season. Arthur was now continuing the season in
Scotland, while she had stayed at home to work and rest. Throughout her
talk, she avoided mentioning the Dunstables.

"H'm!" said Uncle Charles, "so you've been junketing!"

Doris admitted it.

"Did you like it?"

Doris put on her candid look.

"I daresay I should have liked it, if I'd made a success of it. Of
course Arthur did."

"Too much trouble!" said the old painter, shaking his head. "I was in
the swim, as they call it, for a year or two. I might have stayed there,
I suppose, for I could always tell a story, and I wasn't afraid of the
big-wigs. But I couldn't stand it. Dress-clothes are the deuce! And
besides, talk now is not what it used to be. The clever men who can say
smart things are too clever to say them. Nobody wants 'em! So let's
'cultivate our garden,' my dear, and be thankful. I'm beginning a new
picture--and I've found a topping new model. What can a man want more?