ometimes damning what they call the artificial
lighting of the studio, sometimes exclaiming against the carnival of
harmonious or crude colour generally known as 'plein air.'
Impressionists scorn the classic, and _vice versa_. But, Miss West, as a
matter of fact, all schools are as good as all religions.

"To speak of studio lighting as artificial and unworthy is silly. It is
pretty hard to find anything really artificial in the world, indoors, or
out, or even in the glare of the footlights. I think the main idea is
that a man should prefer doing what the public calls his work, to any
other form of recreation--should use enough reason--not too much--enough
inspiration--but watching himself at every brush stroke; and finally
should feel physically unfettered--that is, have the _a b c_, the
drudgery, the artisan's part of the work at his finger tips. Then, if he
does what makes him happy, whether in a spirit of realism or
romanticism, he can safely leave the rest to Fate."

He looked at her, curiously for a moment, then a smile wholly
involuntary broke over his face:

"Lord! What a lecture! And you listened to all that nonsense like an
angel!"

The dreamy absorption died out in her eyes; she clasped her hands on her
knee, looked down, then up at him almost irritably:

"Please go on, Mr. Neville."

"Not much. I've a few stunts to execute aloft there--"

He contemplated her in amused silence, which became more serious:

"You have talent, Miss West. Artistic talent is not unusual among
Americans, but patience is. That is one reason why talent accomplishes
so little in this country."

"Isn't another reason that patience is too expensive to be indulged in
by talent?"

He laughed: "That is perfectly true. The majority of us have to make a
living before we know how."

"Did you have to do that?"

"No, I didn't."

"You were fortunate?"

"Yes. I was--perhaps.... I'm not sure."

She touched the lump of green wax gravely, absently. He remained looking
at her, busy with his own reflections.

"Would you like to have a chance to study?" he asked.

"Study? What?"

"Sculpture--any old thing! Would you like to try?

"What chance have I for such expensive amusements as study?" she
laughed.

"I'll be responsible for you."

"_You_?"--in blank surprise.

"I'll attend to the material part of it, if you like. I'll see that you
can afford the--patience."

"Mr. Neville, I don't understand."

"What don't you unders