proceeded at once to the little town on the coast where his painter
lived, and presented himself. The man never took pupils, but because
Hedger had come so far, he let him stay. Hedger lived at the master's
house and every day they went out together to paint, sometimes on the
blazing rocks down by the sea. They wrapped themselves in light woollen
blankets and didn't feel the heat. Being there and working with C---- was
being in Paradise, Hedger concluded; he learned more in three months than
in all his life before.

Eden Bower laughed. "You're a funny fellow. Didn't you do anything but
work? Are the women very beautiful? Did you have awfully good things to
eat and drink?"

Hedger said some of the women were fine looking, especially one girl who
went about selling fish and lobsters. About the food there was nothing
remarkable,--except the ripe figs, he liked those. They drank sour wine,
and used goat-butter, which was strong and full of hair, as it was
churned in a goat skin.

"But don't they have parties or banquets? Aren't there any fine hotels
down there?"

"Yes, but they are all closed in summer, and the country people are poor.
It's a beautiful country, though."

"How, beautiful?" she persisted.

"If you want to go in, I'll show you some sketches, and you'll see."

Miss Bower rose. "All right. I won't go to my fencing lesson this