* * * * *

Benrimo, the dramatist, who wrote "The Yellow Jacket," relates that
when he was a young writer, fresh from the breezy atmosphere of San
Francisco, he visited London. Coming out of the Burlington Gallery one
day, he saw a little man mincing toward him, carrying a cane held
before him as he walked, whom he recognized as Whistler. With Western
audacity he stopped the pedestrian, introduced himself, and broke into
an elaborate outburst of acclamation for the works of the master, who
"ate it up," as the saying goes.

Waving his wand gently toward the famous gallery, Whistler queried:

"Been in there?"

"Oh, yes."

"See anything worth while?"

"Some splendid things, magnificent examples--"

"I'm sorry you ever approved of me," observed the master,
majestically, and on he went, leaving Benrimo withered under his
disdain.

* * * * *

Whistler had a French poodle of which he was extravagantly fond. This
poodle was seized with an affection of the throat, and Whistler had