"There, there!" says he, pattin' her soothin'. "We all make our
mistakes, old and young; only us old fellows ought to know better."

"But--but they aren't daubs!" sobs out Edith. "And--and you said they
were, without even seeing them."

"Just like me," says he. "And I'm no judge, anyway. But perhaps I'd
better take a look at some of them. How would that be, eh? Couldn't
Tupper bring a couple of them down now?"

"Oh, may he?" says Edith, brightenin' up and turnin' off the sprayer.
"I have wished that you could see them, you know."

So Tupper is sent for a couple of paintings, and Brooks chases along to
bring down two more. They ranges 'em on chairs, and wheels Uncle Jeff
into a good position. He squints at 'em earnest and tries hard to work
up some enthusiasm.

"Ferryboats, sugar refineries, and the North River," says he. "All
looks natural enough. I suppose they're well done too; but--but see
here, young man, couldn't you find anything better to paint?"

"Where?" says Brooks. "You see, I was able to get out only
occasionally without----"

"I see," says Uncle Jeff. "Tied to a cranky old man in a wheel chair.
But, by George! I could take you to places worth wasting your paint
on. Ever heard of Yangarook? There's a pink mountain there that rises
up out of a lake, and on still mornings--well, you ought to see it! I