impatient curiosity. "I want to see what you are doing. I may look?"

"But certainly, mademoiselle."

She came eagerly forward and looked.

"Oh," she said, "is that the dragon? What an awesome creature! Is he
really like that? How splendidly you have done his scales! And what
frightful claws! Why"--she turned upon him--"you are an artist!"

He shrugged his shoulders, with his ready smile. "I am whatever
mademoiselle desires."

"How nice!" said Chris. "Well, go on being an artist, please. Draw
something else!"

"I think it is your turn now, mademoiselle," he said.

"Oh, but I'm no good at it," she protested. "I can't compete. You are
much too clever."

He laughed at that and began again.

She seated herself on a rock and watched him, deeply interested.

"How quick you are!" she murmured presently. "Whatever is it, I wonder? A
horse with a man on it! Ah, yes! St. George killing the dragon!
Excellent!" She clapped her hands. "It is a real picture. What a pity for
it to be washed away!"