on me. "Oh, I say, though," he goes on, "it would be all right,
wouldn't it, if I sent a--er--a commissioner?"

"I suppose that would do," says Marjorie.

"Good!" says Mr. Robert. "Torchy, go with Marjorie and look at that
lot. If they're any good, buy one for me."

"Wha-a-at!" says I. "Me buy a picture?"

"Full power," says he, startin' back towards the meetin'. "Pick out
the best, and tell Bladen to send me the bill."

And there we're left, Marjorie and me, lookin' foolish at each other.

"Well, he's done a duck," says I.

"If you mean he's got himself out of buying a picture, you're
mistaken," says she. "Come along."

She insists on callin' the bluff, too. Course, I tries to show her,
all the way up in the limousine, how punk a performer I'd be at a game
like that, and how they'd spot me for a bush leaguer the first stab I
made.

"Not at all," says Marjorie, "if you do as I tell you."

With that she proceeds to coach me in the art critic business. The
lines wa'n't hard to get, anyway.