outside, I adds a word of warnin'.

"It's a case of pictures, you remember," says I.

"Oh, the deuce!" says Mr. Robert. "Hang Brooks Bladen and his
paintings! I can't go, positively. Just explain, will you, Torchy?"

"Sure; but I'd go hoarse over it," says I. "You know Marjorie, and if
you don't want the meetin' broke up I expect you'd better come out and
face the music."

"Oh, well, then I suppose I must," says he, leadin' the way.

And Marjorie wa'n't in the mood to stand for any smooth excuses. She
didn't care if he had forgotten, and she guessed his old business
affairs could be put off an hour or so. Besides, this meant so much to
poor Brooks. His very first exhibit, too. Ferdy couldn't go, either.
Another one of his sick headaches. But he had promised to buy a
picture, and Marjorie had hoped that Robert would like one of them well
enough to----

"Oh, if that's all," puts in Mr. Robert, "then tell him I'll take one,
too."

"But you can't buy pictures without seeing them," protests Marjorie.
"Brooks is too sensitive. He wants appreciation, encouragement, you
see."

"A lot I could give him," says Mr. Robert. "Why, I know no more about
that sort of thing than--well, than----" And just here his eye lights