dimmer, leaning closer to his canvas to see. When
it had become almost dark in the room, he lit a
student-lamp with a green-glass shade, and, placing
it upon a table beside him, continued to paint.
Ariel's voice interrupted him at last.

"It's quitting-time, grandfather," she called,
gently, from the doorway behind him.

He sank back in his chair, conscious, for the
first time, of how tired he had grown. "I suppose
so," he said, "though it seemed to me that
I was just getting my hand in." His eyes brightened
for a moment. "I declare, I believe I've
caught it a great deal better. Come and look,
Ariel. Doesn't it seem to you that I'm getting
it? Those pearly shadows in the flesh--"

"I'm sure of it. Those people ought to be very
proud to have it." She came to him quietly, took
the palette and brushes from his hands and began
to clean them, standing in the shadow behind him.
"It's too good for them."

"I wonder if it is," he said, slowly, leaning
forward and curving his hands about his eyes so as
to shut off everything from his view except the
canvas. "I wonder if it is!" he repeated. Then
his hands dropped sadly in his lap, and he sank
back again with a patient kind of revulsion. "No,