f critic," he said "who properly ought to have been a
wardrobe dealer: he is eternally reaching down the 'mantle' of somebody
or other and assuring the victim of his kindness that it fits him like a
glove. Now no man can make a show in a second-hand outfit, and an artist
is lost when folks begin to talk about the 'mantle' of somebody or other
having 'fallen upon him.' A critic can do nothing so unkind as to brand
a poor poet 'The Australian Kipling,' a painter 'The Welsh Whistler,' or
a comedian 'The George Robey of South Africa.' The man is doomed."

"And what particular offender has inspired this outburst?"

"Some silly ass who has dubbed me 'the Dana Gibson of the trenches'!
It's a miserable outrage; my work isn't a scrap like Gibson's; it's not
so well drawn, for one thing, and it doesn't even remotely resemble his
in form. But never mind. When I come back I'll show 'em! What I
particularly want to ask you, Paul, is to get in touch with Duveen's
girl; she has really remarkable talent. I have never seen such an
insight into wild life as is exhibited in her rough drawings. I fear I
shall be unable to come down here again. There are hosts of sisters,
cousins and aunts, all of whom expect to be taken to the latest musical
play or for a week-end to Brighton: that's how we victimised bachelors
spend our hard-earned leave! But I promised Duveen I would do all in my
power for his daughter. It would be intolerable for a girl of that kind
to be left to run wild here, and I am fortunately well placed to help
her as she chances to be a fellow-painter. Will you find out all about
her, Paul, and let me know if we can arrange for her to study properly?"

"You really consider that she has talent?"

"My dear fellow! go and inspect her work for yourself. Considering her
limited opportunities, it is wonderful."

"Rely upon me, Don. She shall have her chance."

Don grasped his arm. "Tell Mrs. Duveen that she will receive a special
allowance on account of her husband's services," he said, bending
towards Paul. "Don't worry about expenses. You understand?"

"My dear Don, of course I understand. But I insist upon sharing this
protegee with you. Oh, I shall take no refusal. My gratitude to the man
who saved my best pal _must_ find an outlet! So say no more. Do you
return to London to-night?"

"Unfortunately, yes. But you must arrange to spend a day, or at any rate
an evening, with me in town before my leave expires. Are you thinking